Chapter 3
Trust me, Feed me, Fuck me
I went downstairs just as Tina was pouring out my vodka martini. Her rum and pineapple was already fixed and waiting. I stood behind her and reached both arms around, allowing my left hand to dabble with her breast as I picked the olives out of my martini and popped them in my mouth. She took a deep breath and leaned her head back on my chest. She wasn't wearing her heels so the top of her head was just above my shoulder. I tilted my head down and grazed her temple with a breezy kiss. "Are they too sore now? I have more in store for you tonight and these will continue to play a leading role."
"Not terribly sore but could use some TLC. Do I get to know what your evil mind has planned?"
"No, you are going to relax and allow the events to happen. You will spend some time being very vulnerable, very helpless, a little exposed, possibly uncomfortable, more than likely you'll be mostly naked, but most of all aroused and excited all night. I promise you I'll know when to stop, I'll be very careful in taking you just beyond your limits but not too far beyond."
I could feel her tensing up so I turned her around in my arms and had her look me in the eye. "'Vulnerability and trust' those were your words, not mine. You've given me as much as you think you can, but I want more and I know you can do it. Let go and give it to me. You know you want to, you know you need to if you still want to cross that line and be able to say none of it affects you anymore." She tried to look away again but I held her chin in place even as her eyes filled with tears. "I'll take your fears, but you have to give them to me. Don't hide from me. If you want to cry, then cry. But don't let your fear warp into rage. Don't shut down and turn me away. You're not in control tonight, I am. You don't need to protect yourself because I will protect you. Give me your trust. I will take care of you."
I had to let her come to her decision. In the past I wouldn't have pushed her like this. This day was the product of a convergence of... psychic strength and "right time right place" and "I've had enough" and maybe some hormonal flow peaking her desire, allowing her the extra oomph to get to her imaginary finish line where she could breathe and exclaim, "You don't affect me anymore, you don't exist anymore, you have left no trail behind in me, on me or about me. You are gone from my life." That was how she defined normal, that was what she'd set out to do when her life came crashing down and all the hiding and pretending stopped working. Our marriage barely survived her breakdown. Once she understood herself and was able to help me understand what she needed I could give it to her.
I spent the first ten years of our marriage wondering who the hell I'd married. She became, well, she was simply crazy. Unpredictable was the best way to describe her. Some days she was an honest to god scary bitch and other days she was incredibly loving and affectionate. About eight years ago she was walking down the street when some punk kid snatched her purse and took off. That night she couldn't sleep and it was several more months before I was aware she wasn't sleeping more than two hours a night. By then she was a basket case, she stayed inside all the time, she hadn't allowed the boys to go visit friends, and she stopped talking to her family and friends. The house was a mess and that was what I noticed more than anything else. She had been a very picky neat freak.
I figured the best course of action was no action. She was an intelligent woman and eventually whatever was bothering her would come out and she'd get over it. But it didn't, she didn't, and our son was the one who finally got help when he came home from school and his mother wouldn't come out of the closet she had been hiding in all day. Bright boy bypassed his father, who would have bungled it, his aunts who would have covered it up, and went straight to an ambulance.
She spent two weeks in a psychiatric ward and when she came home she was filled with guilt, fear and rage. The gist was that she'd been molested several times when she was a child and the purse snatching triggered crippling fear. Shortly after we got married she had told me she'd been molested, but she made it sound like it was no big deal and she was over it. I didn't know she was nowhere near over it. How could I have known any different?
Actually she had a lot of work to do and so did I if we wanted the marriage to last much longer. I would not have been willing to work as hard as I did and learn all that I'd learned if she hadn't experienced that breakdown. It was worth every effort because the woman I was now holding was like no other woman on this planet. She was shining, she was glowing, she was exuding warmth and love, affection and sex appeal. People responded to her so willingly, everyone loved her. When she walked into a room she was noticed. She just had that...something.
I dropped my arms and stepped back, taking my martini with me. "Grab your drink and come with me," I called over my shoulder as I walked into the dining room. I pulled out a chair for her and scooted her in. I had to smirk at the picture she presented. Sitting regally in a high back dining chair, in front of the cherry Queen Ann table, with her grandmother's crystal chandelier overhead, breasts exposed, wearing a cup-less corset, no panties, garter belt and stocking feet. She held up her drink and toasted cheers.
"Breathtaking!" I toasted right back. I went to the hall closet and pulled out the old lace table cloth and the new lace table cloth. The new one I spread on the dining room table while I carried the old one upstairs. I came back downstairs carrying my ties, a bottle of soothing body oil and wearing a fairly unsettling grin on my face.
"I don't think you've been as good as you should be lately. I'm not seeing the kind of effort I usually see from my herculean willed wife." I nuzzled the back of her neck as I gently brought her hands behind the chair and tied them together. Then I licked her ear as I whispered, "If you put up a huge struggle, you will be able to get out of these bindings. I say that because I know you're wondering when you should begin to freak out. Are you afraid?"
"Yes."
"What are you thinking right now?" I opened the bottle of cucumber oil and began to massage some onto her breasts, soaking her nipples particularly.
"I'm telling myself that I trust you, that I'm safe with you and being afraid is not the same as being harmed. Thank you, that feels so nice."
"I promised to protect you. In either case you already agreed that these tits are mine and I take care of what's mine. I remember oiling up my baseball glove after practice and every game. I still have that baseball glove, you know." Her nipples were back to what we used to call high beams. I went to the side board and brought over the candle sticks and lit them. "I really think there should be a way to keep MY nipples erect twenty-four/seven."
"Well there is, you just don't stop playing with them, or keep the room very cold. And are you equating these nipples with your old baseball glove?" Up came that imperial eyebrow as she attempted to put me in my place. An overused strategy of hers I was now immune to.
"Yes, actually I am. I think there is a perfect relation between the love and care I gave to my baseball glove and these tits. I remember how I wanted that glove and saved for that glove; how I credited that glove with losing my virginity. If it weren't for that glove I might not have made the baseball team and if I hadn't made the baseball team I wouldn't have gone steady with Cindy Taylor who, as you know, gave me my first blow job and allowed me to learn the wonders of the female body under her tutelage, inept as I was regardless. I might remind you, madam, that baseball glove is a mere five years younger than you and I have cared for and kept that baseball glove for forty years now. Think, my lovely, how that relates to how well I will care for, protect and cherish you? You, who have given me something far more valuable than popping my cherry. You've given me my very own set of tits with which to play any time my heart desires."
"And I thought you'd be most impressed with your three strapping sons."
"As impressive as I find my sons, these tits hold my attention much longer." I knelt beside her and held her drink up to her mouth. She took several sips. "You know they really are magnificent. You nursed each of our sons; you alone nourished them through their nine months inside you and another eight months afterward."
"Yes, the sagging and stretch marks bear further witness to my maternal sacrifice."
"Stop looking at your body as a means of comparison. I don't look at you that way and even if I did you'd still come out in the top ten percent, sagging stretch marks and all. Look at me, this is a trust issue and it's important. I say your breasts are magnificent. Who the hell are you to tell me I'm wrong? Do you know how incredible it is that I can make you cum by playing with your breasts? These breasts that nourished our sons are the same breasts that nourish my soul as a man. I can make my wife cum by playing with her breasts in just the right way, under just the right circumstances. That makes me feel ten feet tall and more macho than a platoon of marines. Now say it with me, these breasts are magnificent!" She looked a little dumbstruck so I fed her the line again and waited for her to repeat it.
"Shoulders back my love, and keep your head up. Smile at me because I've just told you, again, how very silly you are and how magnificent these breasts are." I gave another few sips of her drink and changed tactics. "If you looked at a Monet would you see the odd way in which the landscapes are represented, with bits and dots of color? Unless you were blind the answer would be yes, but not until after you'd spent serious time marveling at the beauty, genius and talent. Would you cover the Monet so only those who can appreciate its value can look at it? No, you bring in groups of people to study and admire and learn the value of beautiful art." The doorbell rang. Fate was so on my side I couldn't have timed it better if I'd had the kid waiting for my signal to ring the bell.
