Just Curious

As promised, part 3 of 4 of my lovely adventure into the unknown. This is the part that got a little bit dark, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

(No fictional characters were hurt during the writing, or reading, of this story.)

I lost control. The worst thing to do right now is to leave her alone, to give her time to think, but I have to regroup. That was bad. That was really bad. I leave the room and take the elevator to my floor. After a quick and cool shower, I slip on a pair of comfortable jeans and a t-shirt. Taking the elevator back to the main floor, I walk out toward the bar area.

There are several women cleaning the tables, and two more up on stage sanitizing the equipment used last night. Harper sees me and starts walking to intercept me. "Hey boss, that was fast. Did she BOLT on you?" He's grinning at his own bad pun. Dork.

I walk behind the bar and grab a bottle of Aberlour single malt whiskey and a glass. Turning toward the bar I see Harper's frowning face taking a seat across from me.

"What are you doing? Did you let her go?"

"No." I open the bottle and start pouring myself a long drink.

Harper grabs the bottle and pulls it out of my hand. "Again I'll ask: What are you doing?" He's serious now; I've known him long enough. "Did you let her go? Or should I get her dressed and drive her home?"

Damn him. I swallow the little bit of whiskey I got into the glass. "She's still up there, and I'm not ready to let her go yet."

"Then what the fuck are you doing drinking? They're YOUR rules, and they're good ones. What's wrong with you? Why are you down here so soon? "

I stare at him, not quite sure what actually happened. I just know something did. "I lost control."

The sentence hangs in the air for a moment. Harper doesn't move or say a word. He just waits for me to elaborate.

"I started simple, with a signal whip. I was just going to put a little design on her back, five or six strokes, to let her get a feel for it. She didn't scream once. Not once, Harper! No begging. Nothing. She just groaned and whimpered and I could see the cream oozing out from between her legs. I was getting so hard." I'm watching Harper, judging his reactions. "I put a full sunburst on her back."

"What? That's like 20-25 lashes. Are you insane? And she has NO experience in this. What were you thinking?" The women cleaning the bar turn to us, but soon go back to their tasks. He's right. I know he's right, but I lost control.

"I know. Her legs were so long, I had to peg them to the front of the bench. She was so scared, and so strong, standing there, naked. She was juicy before I even started, and she just kept creaming. When the sunburst was done, I had to fuck her. I had to. I slammed inside her, and she came almost immediately. I didn't know, I swear. I don't even think she knows." I try to take another drink from the empty whiskey glass.

Harper looks shocked. "She came from the whipping? Are you serious?"

"I only fucked her with two or three strokes. She came so hard it was almost painful. It WAS painful. I just left her there. I had to get control again. Harper, I had to just leave her there."

"Dustin...It's her first time. You can't do that kind of shit to a newbie."

"I know. I know. I'll fix it." Harper doesn't look convinced. "I'll fix it." He gives me one more of his 'looks' and wiggles the whiskey bottle at me. "I gotta go see this." He hops off the bar stool, whiskey bottle spinning in his hand, and heads straight for the viewing rooms. Pointing at the door, he shouts across the room, "Ladies, I'll be in here if you need anything." He's a bastard, but I love him.

Hopping back on the elevator I try to plan my next move. She's been alone for almost half an hour now. I never should have left her, but I couldn't stay there if I wasn't in control of myself. I make it to the door, and I stand there for a few moments, deciding what to do. I pick the Bluetooth earpiece off the floor where I tossed it, and secure it to my ear. I know Harper will have the live video feed on at least one of the screens, while he watches the recorded audio/video on the other screens.

**********

I've actually managed to stop crying. I usually don't cry, so it's annoying that I keep doing it today, even though today is kind of bizarre. The burning sensation over my back has become manageable pain-wise. My pussy is very sore, and between my legs has gone from warm and slick to cold and sticky. I just want to go home. The minutes tick by as I watch the little red blinking lights.

I hear the door finally open, and I can hear someone walking in.

Then nothing. No sounds. No movement I can see. Nothing.

"Hello. Is someone there?"

"Shhhh girl." It's the voice. Then I feel it, his warm hand on my ass. He's looking at my back. His hand starts stroking down the whip marks on my back. I hiss as he strokes some of the more tender spots.

"Can I go home now?"

**********

Shit, I never should have left her alone. I have to fix this. I have to regain control, of myself and of her. "No. I'm not done with you yet." I watch as a delicious shiver rolls down her body.

I do a quick assessment of her condition. Her pulse is a little high, but that's expected. Her temperature is good. Her back is covered in welts, her ass is red, but her arms and legs are cool to the touch. She's in better condition that I thought she'd be in. She's a strong one.

I kneel down by her head, stroking her hair out of her face. Those big beautiful blue/green eyes turn to me. I kiss her forehead. I kiss her eyes. I kiss her cheeks. I kiss her nose. I look into her eyes again. Her eyes are puffy from crying, but in them I see everything that excites me about her: scared, confused, exhausted, and aroused. Running my thumb over her soft lips, my faith is restored as she parts them slightly, letting my thumb slip into her mouth. So fucking perfect.

"Girl, listen to me. I shouldn't have left you alone just now, but something came up. I want to continue. I want to see how far I can take you. I know what you are. I know what you need, but you have to ask, girl. You have to say the words before I can continue.

"Have you ever even been spanked before? Whipped? Have you ever cum that hard before? Don't you want to find out where this goes? What you can do? What you are? You are so impressive and you don't even know it. Just say the words girl."

"I have to say the words? I don't know. I don't understand. Please, I don't know." I am so confused right now. My pussy tingles every time he speaks. I've never cum that hard before. I don't know why I keep doing the things he says, but somewhere deep down inside me wants to. Needs to. My head and my body are going in two completely different directions. I don't know what to do.

Dustin taps the Bluetooth in my ear. "You have to consent to this. You have to say the words. I know you can do it. I know I can make you cum again, but you have to choose. You have to say the words, girl." Dustin reaches for one of the whips, holding it before me. "What is this called? What do you want me to do with it?"

It's the signal whip with the tuft on the end. The name has something to do with a ship. I think for a second, forcing myself to remember. "It's called a galley whip, and you said it'd hurt more than the last one."

He kisses me on the forehead and whispers "Good girl." He takes a long look into my eyes before he asks again. "What do you want me to do with it?"

I feel my body tremble; it knows what I'm going to say before my mind does. "Please, whip me with the galley whip." I watch as a large smile brightens his face. Even though it was humiliating to say those words, they somehow seem right. Maybe they just seem right because they made him happy.

He doesn't start in on me right away like I thought he would. The first thing he does is reposition me. He releases my arms and has me scoot forward so I'm sitting in the middle of the whipping bench. He then puts some chains into loops on the floor and attaches my wrists to them so my arms are pulled straight out from my body. After caressing my legs for a few moments, he repositions my legs the same way he did my arms. Basically, I'm spread eagle, my stomach on the bench with my arms and legs chained to the floor. My tits are hanging over the edge of the bench.

Dustin runs his hands over my body, sending a shiver down my spine. His fingers trace some of the welts on my back before reaching underneath me to grasp my breast. "Whose tit is this, girl?"

Huh? That's a strange question. "It's my breast." AAHhhhh. That was definitely the wrong answer. He's squeezing and pulling my breast out to the side. The pain is flaring through my body, from my tit to my toes and all the way back into my pussy. His voice is deep and penetrating. "Whose tit is this?" He's still hurting me. It's hard to breath; hard to think.

Gasping for breath; "It's your tit. It's your tit." The pain subsides and Dustin rubs my breast for a while. Soon he works his way down my body. I feel his hand running over the marks on my back, before squeezing my ass a few times. "Whose ass is this?" His hand is distracting me. The caress feels so good, but I can't help but expect him to slap me again.

"It's your ass. My ass is yours." He makes a noise that sounds like approval. Slowly he dips his finger down my crack and into my pussy. It's wet and slick, and he slides right in. How the hell did that happen, he's only been here a few minutes. His finger feels so good sliding in and out of me. My hips automatically try to lift up to meet him. "Good girl. Whose pussy is this? Who gets to use this pussy?" Ah, damn it. I know I'm lost now. My pussy is demanding more, and I know I'll do anything to get it.

"It's yours. My pussy is yours to use. Yours to fuck. Yours to fill with cum." It was still humiliating to say, but my pussy seems to be in charge now. And it doesn't seem to care how humiliated the rest of me is.

I get three hard quick slaps on my ass. "So eager to please, my greedy little girl." Dustin slowly drags the galley whip across my back. Please, please not my back. Not again. There's a moment, only a moment, of nothing. No sound, no smell, nothing to feel except the bench under me and the leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles; nothing to do but stare at the ground and wait. Wait for the inevitable.

The sound comes first; the whining whistle of leather slicing through air. Then the sharp CRACK immediately before the pain flares through my arm, just above the elbow. My breath catches as I allow the pain to flow through me, define me. Slowly it ebbs down to a sting and the pattern repeats: whistle-crack-pain. My mind goes blank as Dustin works my legs and arms; knee to ass and elbow to shoulder.

I internalize the pain, making it a part of me, owning it. I let it flow through my body like blood. The rest of the world ceases to exist. There's just the rhythm of the blows, the soft cooing words Dustin whispers to me, and the moisture pooling between my legs. This is where I belong. This is what I am.

The whipping stops and all I can hear is Dustin's breathing coming from behind me. I wait for a few seconds to see if it's over or if he'll whip me more. I wait and nothing happens. Is he done? Did I do something wrong? That last thought makes me panic. What if he isn't happy with me?

"Please. I'm yours. I'm yours to hurt, yours to fuck, yours to use. My pussy is yours. My ass is yours. My mouth is yours. Please fuck me. Please make me cum." I'm babbling, not sure what I'm saying or why, but somewhere deep down inside me says I need to say them. I need to please this man.

Again I hear a cabinet opening from somewhere behind me. A few seconds later Dustin is using his fingers to open my pussy. Please fuck me. Please fuck me. Please fuck me. Something cold is pressed against the entrance of my pussy. A loud moan escapes my lips as something hard, cold, and huge pierces all the way into me. Oh my gawd! I try to move away or arch my back to relieve the pressure, but the thing is still there. Dusting slowly pulls it out and slams it back in over and over. I'm writhing on the whipping bench, the burning of my back, arms and legs forgotten. All of me is focused on the sensations pouring through my pussy. It's too much.

With a blinding intensity, my body explodes. Every nerve ending, every muscle, every fiber feels like it is struck by lightning. My breathing stops entirely. Everything stops.

When my surroundings come back into focus, Dustin is kneeling down by my head, stroking my hair. He's holding a huge blue glass dildo. The head is over-exaggerated; the thick shaft is covered in nubs, and the base has several spiky protrusions sticking up out of it. There is no way that fit inside me; except that it's covered in my cum.

"Please. Please. What's wrong with me? I don't know what's happening. I don't understand. Please" I'm babbling again. Crying and babbling. Why do I keep doing that?

"Shhhh Shhhhh There's nothing wrong with you, girl. I know what you are, and it's absolutely perfect." He's smiling at me as he brushes my hair out of my face, calming me.

I struggle to keep my head raised enough to look at him. I'm exhausted. I can't seem to think straight. But in my fog filled brain, I'm starting to make the connection. "It's the pain. The pain makes me cum."

A look of pride crosses Dustin's face. "Yes, I believe so. You took a hard whipping and came too soon after I started fucking you. I'm betting I could get you to cum from just the whip. And that is a rare and extraordinary trait. " He sees the fear and doubt cross my mind. "There's nothing wrong with you, girl. It's just something you are. You just are. "

"Why do you keep calling me that? Girl. I have a name." I get defensive when I feel lost, and I am so very lost now. A lost little girl.

Dustin just keeps smiling. "You do have a name, and a beautiful name it is. But right here, right now, you're just a toy. A thing for me to play with. In time you could earn your name back, but for now, you're just my fucktoy. And speaking of fucktoys, I'm going to use you again. Are you ready? Say the words, girl. Give me permission to use you."

His words hurt me. Almost as if he hit me in the gut. I'm not a thing. I'm a person. "It's humiliating. I don't wanna talk like that. I'm sorry. Please." I just can't keep humiliating myself. Some small part of me is fighting for my identity. I'm a person. I have a name. A real name. He can't expect me to make myself a sextoy. He can't.

He takes a deep breath, and I wonder if I offended him, but it looks more like he's thinking. He's toying with my nipples as he organizes his thoughts. His voice is soft and calm, like a teacher. "You have to say the words, for many reasons. First, it excites me, it makes me hard. That should be reason enough for you to beg. A submissive wants to please. You should want to please me."

"I don't want to be submissive."

He laughs again. I always feel like a said something stupid when he laughs like that. "You might have thought of that before you came back here, alone, and let me strap you, naked, to a whipping bench. Besides, your sexual preferences aren't something you want or don't want. They just are."

"Kind of like how you are just an asshole." I knew the second those words left my mouth, that I shouldn't have said that. I really need to think before I speak. My body tenses waiting for Dustin's response. He just laughs a little and shakes his head. "Normally I would punish you for that, but I'm in a very good mood right now. I'll let that one slide; this time." He gives me a stern look, emphasizing the last two words.

He continues: "Second, it internalizes the submission. Your submission. Otherwise it would just be me doing things to you. If you're the one begging for a whipping or a hard fuck, you are an active participant in the experience. It becomes more real."

He waits while I process that one. It does kind of make sense. "And third, it helps me know if I've pushed you too far. Anyone can say 'Yes' or 'No' over and over. You have to be lucid to speak full, coherent sentences. Sometimes if you push a person too far, their mind separates from their body, protecting themselves. I need to know if you're OK, and how much more I can push you. It a safety net for you." He watches me for a few moments, gently petting my hair.

The voice he uses next is the commanding one. The voice that fully expects everyone to obey every word he speaks. "I'm going to use you again. Say the words, girl. Say them and give yourself to me so I can use you." His eyes are locked on mine, waiting.

Can I do this? My breath is coming is short sharp gasps. I just look into his eyes, and I see his excitement there. This is what he is. This is what he does. It doesn't seem wrong for him, it fits him. Is this who I am? He's leaning in until his lips brush softly against mine. My tongue slips out, searching for his. The kiss is long, slow, and sensual. "Such a good girl. What do you want? Tell me."

The soft kiss and the words of praise melt any resistance in me. I do want to please this man. I do want him to make me cum over and over. I know any pain he gives me will get me closer to both of those goals. I know I have to say the words so he knows if I'm safe. He wants me safe. He wants me.

"Please Dustin, Please fuck me. Use me. I'm yours. My body is yours. My mind is yours. Everything is yours. Use me. Please." I watch fascinated as Dustin smiles. I know he's happy, and somehow that makes me proud, because I'm the one that made him happy.

Dustin stands and I watch as he starts to open his jeans. The button pops open and he lowers the zipper. For the first time tonight, I see the thing I've come to crave. His cock is semi-hard and it's long and thick. I see the prominent vein snaking along the underside. He rubs the head over my face, before pressing it against my lips. My tongue eagerly slips out as I open my mouth to taste him.

The next few minutes are a slow, instructional blow job. Dustin is telling what to do, and what he likes, and I am eagerly trying to please him. His masculine, musky scent and taste engulf me. I'll do anything he tells me to. He tells me when to suck, when to lick, when to moan, and I do it all. Soon his cock is hard again, and he's ready to fuck me.

Dustin places his hands on the back of my head, and tries to press himself into my throat. I start gagging almost instantly, and he has to pull out of my mouth. As much as I love giving oral, I've never been able to take it deep. He waits for me to recover and slides himself back into my mouth. He repeatedly tries to fuck my throat, trying to talk me through it, but every time his cock hits the back of my mouth I start gagging. Dustin tries about a dozen more times before he pulls out and steps back.

Is he mad? I can do better. "Please. Please. I can do it. I'll try harder."

"Shhh. It's OK, girl. I know it's your first time. It takes practice." He kneels down in front of me again. "I need you to take a deep breath, hold it, and open your mouth as wide as you can. Will you do that for me?"

"Yes, I can do that." I hold my breath with my mouth open and watch as Dustin shakes a small bottle and sprays it into my mouth. An overpowering taste of cinnamon makes me cough.

"Just give it a minute, girl." He strokes my hair again. He's telling me I'm a good girl, and how good I'm being. It's kind of demeaning, but I'm distracted by the strange feeling in my mouth. He asks how I feel, and I tell him about the tingling. "That's a good thing. That means it time to start again."

Dustin stands again and slides his still hard cock into my mouth. He rocks himself back a forth a few times before pressing into me again. I concentrate, trying to keep from gagging, but this time something is different. He's numbed my throat with the cinnamon spray. I feel the head pressing into my throat. He tells me to swallow, but I can't with his cock pressing into me. I shake my head 'No'. I can't.