Roc and Water

This is a revised edition of my original chapter... Wonderful feedback from a few valued readers made me realize the scene in the restaurant was not consistent with the continuity of the story or Patrick and Corrine's relationship. Concerns of disregard towards her hard limits were valid and very constructive. I hope the new scene pleases you as much as it pleases me!

Thank you to FA_JF and Lindseymarsh for your original edits, along with voicing your own concerns for the original scene. Thank you to Masterfuljim for taking the time to give your stamp of approval for the new scene since it was your comment that initially brought the concerns to light!

***

Like most couples, certain patterns begin to emerge. Since our first night together in the cabin, once we've come down from the high of our orgasms and the intensity of our power exchange, we go back to laughing and debating on essentially equal terms. However, on this evening, after he has plugged my ass and trapped his seed inside of me, the energy between us has shifted. As we step into the shower, instead of walking in and immediately reaching for the soap, I just stand there. Passive. He seems to expect this, and quite naturally and casually begins to bathe me with a soap-lathered cloth.

With no words between us, he appears almost clinically detached as he sets about cleaning my body. Beginning with gentle caresses to my face and neck with the washcloth, he moves on to my breasts and torso using firm circular strokes. Individually lifting each wrist high above me, he cleans under my arms before carefully lowering them back to my sides. Lower still; he washes between my legs and ass cheeks, careful not to displace the plug that holds his seed inside of me, before finishing with my legs and feet. While it feels a little odd to surrender this ritual to him, the simple act of bathing myself, it also feels right that he should bathe his toy. For that's what this weekend is about. I'm his to fuck and control, to impart his will and satisfy his needs; but I am also his to take care of, to keep safe and to cherish. In this moment, I feel coveted.

My eyes remain downcast as he bathes me; my mind numb to everything but the water crashing down and the cloth against my skin. It barely registers when his hands gently but firmly move me under the shower's stream, facing me outwards towards him. I feel the soap on my body cascade down to the shower floor.

As if waking from a dream my eyes slowly rise to meet his, briefly pausing on his impossibly hard cock that belies his otherwise calm demeanor. When my eyes reach his, I jerk backwards as if shocked by a jolt of electricity. The intensity of his gaze shoots through me and straight down to my cunt.

Patrick moves on to washing his own body with what seems the same mechanical detachment as he had mine, except for the brief moment his eyes slowly close and his breath slips from his open mouth as he washes his cock and balls. He strokes his thick cock with a soapy hand, rinses, then continues to stroke himself with an unhurried rhythm. Eventually he releases himself to finish cleaning the rest of his body, his eyes returning to their study of me. His unattended cock remains rigid, moving slightly up and down seeking his hand again. His scrotum is tight against his body. His control fascinates me.

Under his scrutiny, I feel raw and exposed as if he can see every thought, experience, and emotion, both dark and light, which make up who I am. It's almost too much and I have to look away. I allow my eyes to break contact with his and lower them to take in his body. Rivulets of water cascade down his slim torso, over his tight chest and core. Beads of water cling to his tattoos, causing them to glisten in the light. The ice-blue eyes of the serpent almost shimmer with malevolent intent. The grey hairs, interspersed with the light brown on his head and chest only add to his raw strength and sexuality.

Patrick's thumb and forefinger firmly grasp my chin and draw me back to his eyes. His tone is stern, but his eyes are shining brightly now.

"What's in your ass Corrine?"

"Your cum, Patrick."

His eyes widen briefly in question.

"Your cum, Sir."

"How does that make you feel?"

Closing my eyes, I think for a moment. "Claimed...marked. Owned."

Brushing my wet hair off of my face, he smiles, then leans down and kisses my forehead gently.

"Good."

Turning off the water, he leads me to the center of his bathroom and dries me with his towel. He steps away, leaving me to stand alone on the soft bathmat as he dries himself. The warm, summer evening keeps me from developing a chill, yet I tremble just a bit anyway.

His sperm still deep in my ass, not a drop lost due to the thick, unrelenting plug. Although I've just showered, I feel so very dirty; so naughty. My tight ring still tingles with the memory of his thick cock stretching it; it's rigid length pulling on the virgin tissue as he stroked in and out of me for the first time.

With his cum trapped inside of me until he wishes otherwise, I revel in the feeling of being a receptacle for him; a vessel. My accomplishments, my profession, my family... In this moment they are safely tucked away. I belong to him, body and soul; reduced down to the purist form of submission I can give him. Yet...I don't feel subjugated. I feel lifted; elevated to a higher plane of acceptance of who I am and what I need. Patrick seems to know my needs even before I am aware of them; tapping into them at a slow but purposeful pace.

I feel my mind drifting; looking inwards. I think back to the days before we met, when my eyes sought him out at the gym. I recall the way my body reacted to his as he pressed himself against mine at the lockers, and then the electricity that shivered through me the first time his hand took mine. I think my body knew, before my conscious mind, that there was a restrained yet potent power inside of him; a strength that could not only match my own, but control and subdue the crashing waves inside of me.

I imagine him as the strong and silent rock, while I'm the current of water that flows around him, guided by his unmovable force. At times, the rock within him creates a barrier, a dam of some sort, which quells my flow until I become a placid, serene lake. At other times, he allows my waters to rage and crash against him; creating a blinding energy between us. I can almost hear the crash of a waterfall around me...

"Corrine."

"CORRINE!"

I feel his warm hands grip my upper arms and give me a slight jostle. "I need you to come back to me now..."

It takes me a moment to focus, and I realize how dazed I must have looked during my reflection. I give him a slight smile and blush. "Sorry....Sir. I just feel so relaxed...I think I drifted pretty deep inside my head."

He pulls me into his arms, my cheeks tickled by the soft hairs on his chest. "From what I could see, you've been dipping in and out of subspace since we got into the shower." He pauses. "It's a beautiful sight to see. Your features are so soft, so pliant. It makes me think there isn't anything you wouldn't do for me." Although it's a statement, there is a hint of question in his tone.

I think before I respond. I pull back and look up at him. His warm eyes caress over my body. My trust for him runs deep. I trust him with my body. I trust him with my heart. I recall a print from my parent's bedroom that said something along the lines of, "you hold in your hand my fragile heart; do not make a fist". I smile as I realize how vulnerable I feel, yet how much faith I have in his strength and adoration for me. My heart feels safe in the cradle of his strong hands.

I rest my head back onto his chest. "Yes Sir. I would do anything for you."

"Why?" he whispers. His tone is questioning; almost...hopeful?

I take a deep breath. "Because I trust you... I care for you... I love you Sir."

I hear his throat briefly catch as his arms pull me even tighter towards his body; his head tucked into my shoulder. Our two naked forms cling to each other quietly. With my head on his chest, I can hear the slow regular rhythm of his heart, which quickens after my declaration.

Patrick steps back, his firm hands holding me at arm's length. "Look at me Corrine."

I look up and see his eyes searching mine, as if he wants to make sure I'm of sound mind and not still drifting in subspace. Although I still feel a little otherworldly, I know I'm thinking clearly and have no misgivings for saying what I have, even if he doesn't reciprocate.

He gives a little nod, as if confirming to himself that my words were not born out of misdirected lust or servitude; that they are truthful and from my heart.

"Say it again... Use my name." His eyes are shining brighter than I've ever seen them before as he holds his breath waiting for me to speak.

"I love you, Patrick."

He slowly lets out his breath, briefly closing his eyes, as if he were savoring the words.

Opening them, he looks down at me with such warmth and sincerity I could burst. "I love you too, Corrine...with all of my heart. I've fallen for you so fucking hard it hurts."

Before I know it, he reaches down and lifts me from just under my ass cheeks, and throws me over his shoulder. I squeal, "What the hell?" as he carries me with long strides into the bedroom; tossing me on the bed before climbing on top of and straddling my hips.

Patrick looks down on me with a huge, cocky grin across his face. "You do realize this changes everything, don't you?"

I look up in confusion; a little worry laces my voice. "What do you mean it changes everything? What does it change?"

"How can I possibly tie up, spank, paddle, and sodomize a woman that I love so much? How can I call a woman who is so strong and independent, whom I respect with every fiber of my being, my cunt and whore?"

Now I look up in horror... This can't be happening. I practically sputter as I try to find my words. "What do you mean? Of course you can... SIR! Loving each other doesn't change any of that! PLEASE!!"

In a split second I suddenly find myself flipped over, one of his hands pinning my wrists above my head while the other gives my ass three hard and rapid spanks, directly over both cheeks. I squeal from the sudden pain penetrating my tender skin; from the force of the slaps pushing the plug even deeper inside my abused ass. My body responds to his assault with a burst of fire inside of me.

Leaning over my back until I can feel his hot breath tickling my ear, his hand on my neck, not tightly but still a clear sign of his control, he growls "That's right my little slut...my love...it changes nothing. If anything, loving each other allows us to go deeper, and darker, into your dirty little fantasies, and into mine. It deepens our commitment to each other. It allows us to expose every desire and depravity with a safe and trusted partner." He leans down and kisses the spot just behind my ear. "Oh....." he lets out with a guttural moan, "I've got so many ways for you to serve me; so many ways to pleasure you..."

The promise in his voice sends a shudder through my body. This is everything I've wanted, but can I handle it? He seems so assured and confident. Why am I suddenly unsure? As if sensing the anxiety that's beginning to creep through my veins, Patrick gently rolls me over onto my side, caressing my cheek.

His expression is warm and compassionate. He idly brushes an errant hair off of my forehead and behind my ear, sending a shiver through me. "It's been a crazy night, hasn't it sweetheart?"

"It has...but...it's been incredible for me; so special. Thank you." I pause a moment trying to collect my thoughts, to try and figure out why I'm a little uneasy. "Is this really possible Patrick...shit, sorry, Sir?" He lets out a little chuckle at my slip. "How do we do this? How are we going to balance everything... time for each other, the sex, our careers, Addie...?"

Pulling me closer, until my head rests in the crook of his shoulder, he gently caresses my head and quells my nerves with a quiet "shhhhh..." and murmurs of "it's okay, sweetheart... we'll figure it all out...we'll be ok." Against my normal nature, I believe him.

I lift myself up to kiss him, but my eyes glance over the bedside clock. "Oh shit Patrick! I think we've missed the dinner reservations!"

Calmly, Patrick begins to kiss and nibble on my earlobe; his hot breath sending shivers through me. "No worries...I'll just give Gil a call and let him know we're running late."

"Gil? Who's Gil?" I'm suddenly on high alert. I think I already know.

"Gil's the chef and owner of 'The Market', and an old friend. His wife Vanessa runs the front of the restaurant."

"Oh fuck," I think to myself. The northwest has become well known to foodies around the country for its sustainable cuisine, both rustic and refined; with many of the local chefs having attained celebrity status, including Gil Hartland. I should know. I interviewed him and Vanessa three months ago for my show.

"I've, um... met Gil and Vanessa. I interviewed them a few months ago."

Patrick moves his body off of mine and helps me sit up. "I know," he says with a big smile. "They loved you."

Letting out a huge groan, I grab a pillow and cover my face with it. "I made a total ass of myself that night! They must have thought I was a total drunk!" My interview had involved indulging in their Spring tasting menu, which was a five course meal, each accompanied by a local wine or spirit. The interview went great; we had so much fun talking about the local food and music scene, I almost forgot I was on a job.

After the interview was over, they'd invited me to stay. The three of us, along with their young, cute bartender, stayed up until after one o'clock in the morning drinking and sharing stories. At the end of the night, the bartender, a good eleven or twelve years younger than me, drove me home and we made out and groped each other like giggling teenagers in front of my house. Addie was inside, so there was never any question of him coming in. He'd asked if I'd like to get together another time, but understood when I declined, citing a busy schedule.

Gil and Vanessa had given me their home number and told me to call them anytime to hang out again, but I was too shy, and a little embarrassed, to call them. We spoke once more, just before the interview aired, and once again Vanessa invited me to come by the restaurant any time, but I never did. I have no idea whether the bartender, Marc, had told them about our kiss; I don't want to know...

"As I said, they love you. When I told them we were dating, they were ecstatic and have been begging me to bring you by."

I look at him questioningly. "Why didn't you tell me you knew them? That you knew about my interview with them?"

Patrick looks a little impish when he answers. "Well, it's not as sinister as it seems. I knew they'd been interviewed by someone local, but admittedly after reading a trough load of articles and hearing multiple radio and television interviews over the years I have to admit I don't follow them much anymore. When I told them about you, after our weekend in the gorge, they told me about your evening together. Honestly, I'd meant to say something but kept forgetting. When I decided we'd go to their place tonight, I thought it might be fun to surprise you. No?"

"It's just that... I pride myself on my professionalism, but that night I'd had so much fun I let myself get a little crazy." I look at him a little pensively. "Did they mention anything else about that evening?"

It's his turn to look questioningly at me. "Should they have?"

"Um....no....not really. I had to get a ride home that night because I was too drunk to drive." I realize it's only a half-truth.

"No worries, baby. It happens to the best of us sometimes."

I decide in that moment that it's probably best to leave it at that. No reason to bring up kissing Marc when it was really no big deal to begin with. Patrick and I hadn't even met yet at that point anyway, and maybe Marc wouldn't even be there tonight.

Patrick hands me my Jade dress to wear; thankfully he allows me to wear panties so I feel more secure that the butt plug won't slip out by accident at any point during the evening. I'd brought a strapless bra to wear with the dress, but he quickly nixes it.

I brush my hair out, leaving it loose around my shoulders, and apply a little light makeup before we head out the door. The restaurant is across the river in the revived industrial district. I ask if we can take his motorcycle, but Patrick declines.

"I won't have you wearing dresses and sandals on the back of my bike, Corrine, even for short rides. I don't want to take any chances like that. Not everyone is looking out for motorcycles and although I'm cautious when driving in the city, you never know."

I appreciate his concern for safety, and get up on my toes to quickly kiss him on the cheek.

The night is warm but breezy, and despite the plug holding his seed inside of me, I feel a giddy nervousness as if we're going out on our first date. He parks the Bronco near the river, about six blocks from The Market. Usually I wouldn't mind, but after two blocks I start to feel the plug shifting inside of me with each stride. Excitement quickly builds and I feel my pussy respond by becoming swollen and wet. I stop and look up at him in panic as wetness begins to seep into my panties.

With a knowing look, his gaze travels to between my legs, currently squeezed closed as I shift back and forth from one leg to the other.

"Need me to carry you?" he asks with a mischievous grin.

I weigh out my option, trying to figure out which would be the least humiliating, and it's a draw. With resolute determination, I begin to walk again, carefully trying to create the least amount of stimulation as possible. I'm only marginally successful and by the time we reach the restaurant I can almost smell my own arousal. My nipples are erect and easily seen under the thin material of my dress. We both know the flush on my cheeks has little to do with the warm summer evening.

Before we walk in Patrick pulls me off to the side a little, and leans down close. "Honestly, I wasn't trying to set you up... Do you need a moment to come down a little?"

"Maybe a moment, please, if that's okay Sir."

Admittedly I feel a little overwhelmed knowing his cum is still plugged inside of my ass. It's having a powerful effect on me; taking my submission to him to a much deeper level than I've ever felt. Coupled with our exchanges of love, I feel utterly consumed by him, in only the best way, but I need my head to be little more focused before seeing his friends.

To help distract me, he shows me the façade and sign on the front of the building which he had made for Gil when The Market had opened four years ago. It turns out they've known each other for double that. Both are kayak and rafting enthusiasts, and since meeting Patrick has introduced Gil to his love of motorcycles, specifically BMWs, and the two regularly go for rides together.

"Ok, Sir. I think I'm ready now." We walk in, his arm comfortably around my shoulders. For the moment I feel as composed as I possibly can, until I see Marc behind the bar chatting with Vanessa. They both look up at the same time and when they see us huge smiles appear on their faces. Vanessa walks over with arms extended. A petite woman, also in her early-forties, with auburn hair and a style that could only be called vintage punk; Vanessa has an energy that a woman in her twenties would be jealous of.

"Corinne! How amazing is this?" She embraces me in a huge hug before pulling back. "When Patrick told us the two of you were seeing each other, I nearly jumped up and tackled him!"