Just Curious

Chapter 6 (Sunday)

I'm falling. It's pitch black. I can feel the dirt falling all around me. It gets in my eyes and my mouth and my nose. I grab desperately for something, anything. All I get is more dirt. I can't see anything. I feel the side of the pit. My hands desperately digging in every chance they can, but the sides just give way, and more dirt is falling all around me. I'm choking. I'm falling. I can't breathe.

My feet hit something. They dig in, with my hands grabbing on to anything for more support. Panting, I hang there in absolute darkness. My fingertips are bleeding. I'm coughing dirt out of my throat. How far did I fall? How am I going to get out?

I feel a presence. I can't see it, but I know it's there. It's always there. I shift to try to locate it and one foot slips. The added weight on the other foot is too much, and the ground breaks out from under that one also. I'm falling again. A scream pierces the darkness. The presence stays with me. It's always with me. My fingernails break as I try to find purchase on the dank crumbling soil.

Something hits me in the face, a rock I think. There's a flash a light. I keep grabbing at the sides of the pit, anything to keep me from falling. I hear a noise; maybe my name. The presence has never spoken to me before. Another rock hits me. Only this time when I open my eyes I see light. Real light.

I see the presence that been haunting my dreams for so long. It's talking. My mind starts to wind down from the panic that was overwhelming it. Someone's talking to me, but it's not the presence. It's a man. Marcus is above me. Searching my eyes. Screaming at me.

"Wake up! Good girl. Look at me. Come on, wake up or I'll slap you again. Good girl. Focus on me. Breathe."

I try to curl into a protective ball, but my wrists are still attached to the headboard. Marcus is sitting on me. This is the second time I've opened my eyes only to have him hovering over me.

"How often do you have nightmares?" He starts releasing my wrists. My heart is pounding in my chest. I don't want to do this right now. I try to curl up into my little ball again, but he holds me down. "Tell me. How often?"

"A few times a week." I see him clearly for the first time. He's dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He's soaking wet with a towel around his neck, sweat dripping down on my face.

"Tell me. Tell me about your dream." His hand is on my face, forcing me to look at him.

"No, I can't. I don't want to. Please." I just can't do this anymore.

"Tell me!" He shakes me head for emphasis. "Tell me." That was a command and I cave almost instantly. It may not be coherent, but I tell him about my dream. Once I start, I can't stop. It's cathartic just to get it out of me. Marcus doesn't talk, he just listens.

When I eventually stop my rambling, he pulls me into his arms and holds me. He's soaking wet from his workout, but right now that doesn't matter much. He solid, and he's real, I can feel the residuals from my nightmare start to drift away. He just holds me, his arms wrapped around me, and we sit in silence for a while.

Then the interview questions begin. When did they start? Are there situations or emotions that make them worse? Or better? How do you recover after a bad dream? Do you have trouble falling asleep? Insomnia? Sleep-Walking?

I don't think about my answers, I just let them slip from my mouth. Marcus's wet body is still wrapped around me. Then he asks me how I feel and I say the first thing that comes into my mind: "I just wanna go home."

Marcus leans into me and presses his face into my hair, inhaling deeply. "Do you have a preference for airlines, or do you want the first available flight?"

I open my mouth to answer automatically, then the question registers in my mind. "What?" I twist to look up at him.

His eyes are sad, but determined. "You asked to go home. I need to get you a flight. I asked if you wanted a particular airline."

"I don't want to go home. That's not what I meant."

Marcus looks like he's thinking. He draws in a deep slow breathe and exhales it. "In a relationship like this, your words are very powerful. If you say 'stop', I stop. If you say 'yes', you are giving me your consent to continue. And if you say you want to go home, you go home. It is my responsibility, my duty, to make sure you get home quickly and safely. You just said you wanted to go home."

"I don't want to go home. I don't."

"But you said you did. I just heard you." He's getting frustrated with me now.

OK, I have to find the right words to explain this better. "When I said home, I didn't mean the address when my mail gets sent. I meant someplace, anyplace, where I feel ... I don't know exactly. Safe? Normal? Sane? Someplace where I'm not so confused. Does that make any sense?"

"So you're saying you misspoke." He looks a bit more relaxed now.

"Yeah, I didn't mean that I wanted to leave."

He's thinking again. "OK, the 'go home' rule is usually nonnegotiable, but you're new and don't know many of the rules yet. So this is what I'm going to do: Three times this morning I'm going to ask if you want to go home. If you say 'no' all three times, I'll allow you to stay and we'll keep exploring. I'll ask you now, after your shower, and after breakfast. If you answer 'yes' at any time, then I'll get you home as quickly as possible. Deal?"

I nod my head yes.

"Do you want to go home?"

I shake my head no. Marcus scowls at me, but I smile back at him until he rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"You're incorrigible." I nod my head 'yes' again.

"Do you want a shower?"

"Definitely. You got sweat all over me." I scrunch up my face as Marcus pulls me into a bear hug. Gross! Soon I'm laughing and the terror from the nightmare is behind me.

"Do I have your word that you won't touch yourself if I leave you alone?"

I hadn't even thought of sex yet this morning. "I promise I won't touch myself inappropriately. But thank you for reminding me I haven't had an orgasm in weeks."

My sarcasm isn't wasted on him. "You are most welcome, my lady. Shower, no touching, then breakfast. Got it?" I nod 'yes' again and Marcus untangles us from on top the bed. He turns me toward the bathroom and spanks my ass. "Take your time. I need to shower and then make us some breakfast."

I take a long hot shower. I need to clean not only my body, but my soul as well. I don't even think of masturbating, which clearly tells how badly the nightmare has affected me. I let it all wash away and flow down the drain; all the fear, the nervousness, the uncertainty, everything. When I'm ready to rejoin the world, I brush my teeth and dry my hair. There is a hair band on the countertop that wasn't there before, so I put my hair in a ponytail. Walking into the bedroom I find my clothes laid out on the bed, and not the sundresses, actually my clothes. There's the tank top I like to sleep in and my cargo shorts. No bra or panties though. I do a few stretches before I get dressed and then head out to the kitchen to find Marcus.

I walk into the kitchen and stop. And stare. I just figured out the question about how little he ate yesterday. There is oatmeal, a bagel, a skinless chicken breast, milk, broccoli, toast with jam, green grapes, and Marcus is just sliding a big omelet onto a plate and putting it on the table. "Perfect timing. Are you ready to eat?" I nod my head 'yes', that's a lot of food! Marcus pulls out a chair and I sit in it and he sits down also.

"First things first: Do you want to go home?"

"No, I do not want to go home." He nods his head.

"We have a busy day, so eat up." He seems happy this morning. He cuts off a portion of his omelet and slides it onto my plate, then asks what else I want. I choose half the bagel, some grapes, and a glass of milk. We start eating and chit chat a little bit, nothing serious or mind-numbing. Mostly, I try to get information out of him about what we're doing today.

About half way through breakfast I notice a small dog bed I the corner of the kitchen. "Where's your dog?" Marcus looks at me and I tilt my head, indicating the dog bed.

A small smile plays across his face. "That's not a dog bed; it's a kneeling pad, so your knees don't get sore on the hard floor." He watches me for my reaction.

What! "What?"

"I usually feed my submissives while they kneel on the floor right here." He points to a spot near his feet. "You had a bad morning, so I gave you a chair ... today. Tomorrow you'll kneel and I'll feed you."

"Like a dog! You'll feed me like a dog?" My voice is low and angry.

"I'll feed you however pleases me. Watch your tone of voice. Today is an important day for you." A surge of energy sparks as I recall him saying today he would, might, fuck me. Is he holding that over my head?

"I won't. I won't do that."

"You will." He is calm and confident.

"I won't."

"You might not realize this yet, but everything I ASK you to do, I can MAKE you do. It's better for both of us if you obey. You will kneel for me tomorrow, whether of your own decision, or bound in ropes and chains. You will kneel." Crap. I can tell from his tone that he's done that before; forced someone to kneel for him. His voice was powerful and confidence was oozing off him. I look down at the remnants of my breakfast on the plate. The silence is excruciating.

Marcus finishes his meal a few minutes later. "Grab some plates and take them to the sink." I still can't look at him, but I grab my plate and a few others and set them in the sink. Marcus brings the rest, rinses them off, and loads the dishwasher as I stand silently a few feet away.

When he finishes he walks over to me. He takes my head by the pony tail and forces me to look up at him. "Tomorrow you will kneel for me and I will feed you. Do you understand?"

"Yes." It comes out as more of a squeak.

"Do you want to go home?" I look up at him. He did that on purpose! He knew I'd see the dog bed thing. He knew I'd ask and he knew what my reaction would be. I don't want to go home, but if I say 'no' I'm basically agreeing to kneel and be fed like a dog. Sneaky bastard!

"No, I don't want to go home, but I'm not agreeing to the kneeling thing either." There, I stood up for myself. Take that, sneaky bastard.

"That's three, so I'll allow you to stay. And you will kneel for me tomorrow. The sooner you accept that fact, the easier it will be." He looks down at me, reinforcing his words. "We're leaving in five minutes. Go use the bathroom one more time before we go, it'll be a while before we get back." He releases my hair and watches me as I slink back to my room, defeated.

Five minutes later were in the garage below the building. Marcus has a big dark metallic blue SUV in his assigned parking spot. We head southeast toward Boulder City. He still won't tell me what we're doing, but he's dressed casually in black shorts and a sleeveless shirt. His arms look huge in that shirt.

We drive to a house in Boulder City. I ask if this is his house, and he says that it's a friends place. Marcus hops out and opens the garage. He loads two kayaks and some gear into the SUV. I smile when he gets back into the vehicle. "What?"

In a sing song voice "I know what we're doing. I know what we're doing."

Marcus leans over and kisses me unexpectedly, "You look beautiful when you smile." I think we're past the drama from this morning. We make a quick stop at a local grocery store. Marcus has me wait in the car while he goes in. He comes out and puts his purchases in a cooler he has in the back. We cruise down some back roads until we reach the Colorado River. He parks at a small, deserted, boat launch. It only has 4 long parking stalls, I presume for vehicles with trailers.

Marcus starts unloading everything. I ask if he needs help, but he doesn't, so I investigate the shoreline. A short while later, I hear the click of the camera and turn to find him ready to go. We smear on sunscreen and put on the floatation vests. He asks if I've ever kayaked before, I tell him about half a dozen times on calm lakes. He shows me the basics, loads me into a yellow kayak. He climbs into an extra long red one. He pushes off, then maneuvers to help me launch. It only takes me a few tries to get the hang of it and we're off on our next adventure.

We float down the river for over two hours. Marcus points out different things; animals, rock formations, coves, old native paintings. He takes a few more pictures of me while we're going down the river. We race a few times and I might have, accidentally of course, splashed him with water a few times. Yeah, he didn't believe that either.

He points out another cove and we head over toward it to land on a small sandy beach. I wait while Marcus hops out, then he helps me out. My legs are stiff from being in the kayak for so long. He pulls the kayaks higher up on the beach and pulls out the cooler. He takes my hand and we walk up a small hill to what I can only call a plateau. It's maybe 10 feet up from the river and maybe 10 feet wide and 30 feet long.

I look up the steep sides of the canyon, with the iconic layers of colored rock. Even though it's about 10AM the sun isn't high enough to shine down on us. There is more native art on the walls and Marcus poses me in front of it, taking more pictures. "Come, let's have a picnic."

He goes back to the cooler he set down earlier and lies down on the long grass. He stops me before I can lay down myself. He's on the ground, looking up at me when he tells me to strip. My first instinct is to look around, but I keep my eyes on him. I take a deep breath and remove my shirt and let it drop to the ground. My cargo shorts, shoes and socks follow shortly after.

Every sound is someone coming up the hill. Every movement out of the corner of my eye is a shadow of another person. It takes all my willpower not to look around, but I keep my eyes on him. "Good girl." He takes out that damn camera again and takes a few more pictures before allowing me to sit down across from him.

He opens the cooler and we have a wonderful snack of pistachios, almonds, pita chips, carrots, olives, apple slices, M&M's, and bottled tea. I lay on my back as he feeds me bite by bite. We eat and talk; he poses me a few more times and takes pictures. He runs his fingers through my reddish landing strip. He investigates my breasts, my neck, my tummy, and my face. Soon I forget my nudity, and just enjoy the picnic.

After we finish the food, Marcus packs up the empty bags and bottles into the cooler. He stands effortlessly and helps me up. We walk over to the cliffs again for more pictures. These are a bit more risqué. He lies between my legs and takes pictures up the length of my body. He has me face away from him, bend at the waist, and place my hands on my ass. He has me sit on an outcropping, knees bent and spread wide, hands raised high above my head. I do it all. No questions. No hesitation. He tells me to kneel, and I drop down to my knees.

"Kneel." I didn't place my hands on my thighs. Crap. I spread my knees wide and place my hands, palms up, on my thighs. He walks around me; once, twice, three times. "Good girl."

He stops in front of me and slips the waistband of his shorts down, releasing his gorgeous cock. It's semi hard, bobbing up and down in time with his breathing. "Pleasure me." He says it with the cool, calm confidence of a man who knows I'm going to do exactly as he says.

I sit up slightly and lean forward wrapping my lips around the smooth purplish head. The scent of a man envelopes me as I suck gently on the tip. I slide my tongue along the length of the underside of his cock, snaking along a large prominent vein. I go back to sucking him again, taking the first few inches in my mouth, I spend the next few minutes bobbing up and down. I tried using my hand to tease his balls, but he ordered me to 'kneel' again. So it looks like this is an 'oral only' exercise.

I work at this for about ten minutes. My knees are sore and my jaw is getting there. I tried to take him deep, but each time I started gagging. He praised me every time I tried, so I kept at it. It was almost a relief when he placed his hands on the back of my head. Anticipation, nervousness, and a little bit of fear are at the forefront of my mind. I try to relax as his fingers take hold of my hair.

He presses himself in and out of my mouth several times, always stopping before I gag. I'm not sure if I can do this. His cock is bigger than most, nine inches and thick. Dustin got down there; maybe I can take Marcus as well. I guess we'll find out. "Take a deep breath and hold it."

He is already filling my mouth, so I inhale through my nose and hold my breath. As soon as I do that, I hear him say: "Swallow."

I can't. I just can't. "Come on, girl. Swallow me. I've seen you do this." His deep husky voice gives me confidence. I force myself to make the swallowing motion, and he simultaneously presses himself into my throat. He only holds it there for a second or two before my gag reflex kicks in. I can't believe he got in there in the first place!

He doesn't let me go, but he does let me recover. As soon as I am, he tries again. "Deep breath." That's the easy part. "Swallow me." This time I can do it without more prompting. He forces his cock into my throat again and holds it there as I start gagging. "Relax." I start panicking and try pulling off him. He doesn't let me go, but he does pull back so he only filling my mouth. "Don't bite me, girl." My mouth is filling up with saliva, and there's no way I'm making the swallowing motion again, so it starts spilling out the corners around the huge cock.

When I recover enough, Marcus tells me to swallow again. This is going to be a long morning. I take a breath, hold it, and swallow. We do this over and over. Marcus coaching me on tips and tricks to control the gag reflex. I close my eyes to help me concentrate. My chin and chest are covered in my spit and I can feel it slowly sliding down my stomach. I'm not sure how many times we do this, but all of a sudden something bumps into my chin. My eyes pop open, and strong, well-defined abs are right in front of my face. He's in! He's all the way in.

"Good girl." My stomach is churning from all the gagging. I'm getting used to the timing by now; Marcus doesn't have to speak anymore. When he puts pressure on my hair I inhale. When he pulls my head forward I swallow. When he pulls out I don't bite down.

He slides down my throat again and again, the pace increasing ever so slightly. I can hear him groan above me. One last time, only this time he doesn't pull out. It's a weird sensation having a cock twitching and pulsing in your throat. He starts pumping cum directly into me. This time, when I start gagging he doesn't pull out. He stays in me until he drains every drop in my convulsing throat.

When he's done he pulls out and I try to collapse, but he still has me by my hair. He lets me rest against his thigh, but he doesn't let me go. We stay quietly like this for a while. After I've stopped coughing and gasping for breath, the questions begin. How do you feel? (nauseous) Does your nudity bother you right now? Did it when I first told you to strip? Did you think you could take all of my cock? You didn't look around when I told you to strip, why not? Do you prefer nudity in front of strangers or somewhat secluded, like this place? I answer them automatically.

"Do you think you pleased me?"

"I hope so." My head is still resting against his thigh. He releases my hair and tilts my face up to look at him. I know I'm look like a complete mess, but the way he smiles down at me makes that meaningless.

"You did. I am very proud of you this morning. I think I should let you have a reward. What would you like, girl?"