The First Five Hours

Author's note: This is the second story in a 3 story arc. I do think that each story stands on its on as enjoyable. If you want to know what happened earlier, read "One Hundred and Ninety Two Hours". If you want to know what happens next, read "Controlled Surrender".

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They had been planning this vacation for months. There were the discussions on where to go, when to go, how to coordinate their work schedules to get the time. She suggested the mountains; he lobbied for the beach. They both wanted someplace private; isolated even. Where they knew they wouldn't be disturbed by nosy neighbors or wandering kids. Where the noises he wanted her to make wouldn't prompt someone to call the cops. Where they didn't have to care about who might see what through a window.

They settled on a place in the foothills, situated at the end of a spit of land that jutted into a lake. It was smaller than they'd planned on, and more expensive. So they had to compromise on the timing too, settling for that indeterminate part of September that wasn't quite summer, and wasn't yet fall. Whatever; the point was to get away, to have time and space to be themselves.

Their relationship had evolved into a power exchange over time. She couldn't have explained to anyone how exactly, or why; it wasn't something that had happened with any of her other boyfriends. He told her once that he'd occasionally role played power games before; but only as a lark. Over the course of time, they found they'd unwittingly tapped into something neither had realized they needed.

The Saturday before they were supposed to leave, he'd told her that he wanted absolute surrender from her. That he needed the entire time they were away to explore and test his ability to control, and her willingness to submit. It was a monumental step in their relationship, and not something she'd anticipated. Over the course of that rollercoaster weekend, she'd convinced herself that it would be worth it. That obeying him fully was a gift she could give him, and that would pay her dividends.

The Sunday evening, after she'd told him her decision, he asked for two additional concessions, and she'd laid out a boundary of her own. She agreed to have no say in packing or preparing for the vacation, to not ask or be aware of what clothing, supplies, or toys he brought. She also agreed to wear whatever he wanted on the journey to the rental. In turn he agreed that any marks, cuts or bruises would be confined to the parts of her that would be covered by her work clothes, or timed to have faded by the time they got back. He readily agreed, which had the effect of increasing her nervousness.

On Monday, he surprised her by contracting with a cleaning service to come to the apartment while they were at work on Friday. The apartment would be thoroughly scrubbed, all the clothes washed, and everything put away so that there was nothing to take care of when they got back. On Tuesday, he told her that he'd arranged with the building super to let a grocery delivery service into the apartment, on the Thursday that they were gone. The fridge and pantry would be fully stocked when they got back; one less thing to concern themselves with. Tuesday night they made love; a sweet, tender and emotional coupling. Then he told her that he wasn't going to touch her again until Friday. He asked her not to touch herself and said he'd keep the same promise. She agreed, intrigued, and a little surprised.

Wednesday she realized how distracted she was at work. She kept replaying some of the things he'd said to her that previous weekend. How he'd told her that he had a picture of her in his mind "on the floor, naked and bound; bruised, bloodied and covered in my cum and piss." She kept remembering how her stomach had flipped, and how the blood had all rushed to her cunt. How she kept imagining what it would take to fulfill his vision. When her co-workers asked her about the upcoming time off, she gave her standard, nonchalant answers about just relaxing and being able to sleep in late. But every time they asked, her pussy clenched.

On Thursday evening he started loading the car, a rental gotten just for the vacation. Two or three trips to the garage with big duffle bags. He said that he wanted as much done as possible early, another thing taken care of so that on Friday they could just leave. Each time he left he apartment with something, he had a devilish grin, and he'd refused to even let her carry the bags down. She didn't even bother asking what was in them, though her imagination was running wild.

Friday morning they both woke up before their alarms. They were taking the afternoons off from their jobs, so that they could get back to the apartment, finish anything that needed done and head out before the traffic got bad. She had to be at work before he did, so she'd left him in bed when she went to do her morning routine in the bathroom. They both usually slept nude and she hadn't gotten dressed yet. She'd just used the toilet and was washing her hands and face when he walked into the bathroom.

He grinned at her, wolfishly. "I'd like to note for the record that it's been Friday for six hours now."

She stood and met his gaze reflected in the mirror. "And I'd like to note for the record that vacation doesn't start for another six hours."

He'd walked up behind her while she was responding, and was nodding. "That's why this is a request, not an order." He placed a washcloth on the sink counter, and added a butt plug, set of ben wa balls, and a bottle of lube. These were toys they'd had for a long time, but rarely used.

She turned to face him, leaning against the counter with one hip. She looked at the collection, then back at him. He said earnestly, "I want you to wear those all morning. I want you to feel them inside you and think of me every time you move. Think of what I'm going to replace those with. Think of what else I'm going to do to your cunt and your ass."

Involuntarily, she shivered and saw that he noticed. Involuntarily, she felt a rush of blood to her pussy. She nodded, looking down at the counter; he stepped forward and gently tilted her head so she would meet his eyes. "Say it out loud."

She shivered again. "I agree."

He turned her to face the sink, told her to bend over, he pulled on her hips until her feet were far enough away that she would lay her head on the counter and not watch what he was doing. She spread her legs and arched her back without him telling her. He used her back as a table, putting the washcloth down, then adding the toys and lube.

She heard the bottle opening, felt items being moved, smelled the scent as he lathered something with the lube. Then he touched her asshole, first with his finger, then with the tip of the butt plug. As soon as she relaxed, he pushed the plug into her. He quickly did same to her vagina with the ben wa balls, which were attached to each other and had a loop to make them easier to retrieve.

He cleaned off the residual lube, and tapped one butt cheek. Without thinking about it too much, she wiggled her hips side to side and around in a couple of circles. She stood upright and looked at herself, and him, standing right behind her.

The butt plug wasn't so big, and once it was seated properly didn't even feel uncomfortable. But it did have the effect of making her acutely aware of every motion of her ass. The ben wa balls had the same effect, making her feel full in an interesting way, and setting off little vibrations as the weights inside them shifted around.

He looked incredibly pleased with himself, and stepped up to stand close behind her. He traced his fingertips down her back and reached around to hug her from behind. She leaned back into him and watched him in the mirror as his hands roved over her breasts, abdomen and down to her vulva. They were standing far enough away that her whole torso, down to mid thigh, was clearly visible to them. He wrapped one arm around her tightly, stroking and massaging the breast that was easily in reach.

As his other hand moved toward her pussy, he whispered. "Now I would like you to cum."

His hand cupped her pussy and he slid his long middle finger between her lips. "I thought we were waiting?" She said as she sighed.

"Until Friday. Which it is. Will you cum for me?"

"Yes."

"Good." He was moving his finger in and out of her, sliding the tip in a long elliptical to touch her inner and outer lips, but always keeping contact with her clit. As she got wetter and more flushed, he spread her lips, and turned his hand get better access to her clit. He flicked, rubbed, and circled her clit, now faster, now slower, now harder, now softer. All the while he was watching her in the mirror and talking to her.

"You're so beautiful like this. You're such a beautiful wanton hussy. Look at yourself. Watch yourself. See what I see. Soon enough I'm going to show you. I'm going to show you what a wonderful slut you are. So easy. So fucking easy. Come on. Cum for me. Show me how much you like it. You want to cum. You want me to finger fuck you. You want me to get you off. So fucking easy. Such a good fucking slut."

He settled on a rhythm and pressure, directly on her clit, that he knew would make her orgasm. For once he wasn't trying to tease her. This time he wanted her to cum, hard and soon; he was getting off watching her in the mirror. Getting off on telling her to watch herself. She was sighing and gasping, letting out loud moans, and little shuddering breaths. Making wordless noises that sound like sex in any language. And they were echoing there in the bathroom, reverberating on the glass and tile. For once he didn't give a shit if the neighbors heard. He actually wanted her to wake them up.

He worked her clit a little more, still talking, telling her how proud he was of his easy fucking slut. How lucky he was to have such a good cunt to fuck. Then she was cumming, and he held her pussy in his hand while it twitched and she took a few long hard breaths. He held her up while she caught her breath, and when she was feeling steady again he patted her ass and suggested that she wash herself off.

She managed to get dressed and make herself presentable for work. She kissed him goodbye while he was stilling eating breakfast. Every step to the elevator, out of the building, down to the subway was a reminder of him and a warning of what was next.

All that morning at work she was distracted and a little giddy. She couldn't shake the notion that somehow her colleagues knew that she had these objects inside her. That they could smell her arousal or were somehow privy to her orgasm that morning. She kept going to the bathroom and touching herself, touching the plug end and tugging at the cord attached to the ben wa balls. She really wanted to masturbate. The closer she got to lunch, the less she was able to concentrate. Luckily she had planned ahead and the major responsibilities were handed off already. She composed one last email, detailing coverage assignments and what was delegated to who.

He texted her at 11:59AM, reminding her that per their agreement, vacation officially started at noon. He would be at his job for another hour and a half. His text told her that there were instructions for her at the apartment, and she was to complete them by the time he got home. The tone in his text made her equally nervous, excited and horny. She decided to get a taxi, thinking that it might be faster, that time of day.

When she entered the apartment, she noticed that it really had been thoroughly and deeply cleaned. It was spotless in a way it hadn't been since they'd moved in. There was a note on the hall table which simply told her to go to the bedroom and follow the instructions in the letter on her dresser. She mused that he really didn't want her to miss anything.

In the bedroom there was an outfit laid out on her side of the bed. There was a bright blue bra, demi-cup, plunge and front hook. There was a matching blue thong that was essentially transparent. There was an extremely short skirt, a rib knit tank top, and a white button down shirt that looked like one of his work shirts.

On her dresser was a letter delineating her next steps. She was to remove the plug and ben wa balls, wash them completely, and put them on his dresser. She was to use the bottled depilatory cream to remove all her body hair, including her pubes. She was to use the enema to completely clean her ass out. Then she was to shower, wash her hair, and apply a particular body lotion that he liked. When she was done, she was to wait, naked, for him on the couch.

He allowed that while she was waiting, she could make herself a small meal, and directed her to drink two beers. His letter said that he expected to see evidence of the consumed meal and beers when he got in. Additionally, she was not allowed to speak to him. She was allowed to answer direct questions, but other than that, she was to remain silent.

She sat on the end of the bed, reading and rereading this letter. She felt overwhelmed; it was a little too real. She wasn't sure if she'd ever told him, but this was a particular fantasy of hers come to life. It wasn't something she ever thought she'd experience, and now that the opportunity was in front of her she wasn't sure what she thought.

Her phone buzzed and it was a text from him, asking if she was home. Directing her to indicate if she had read his instructions. And telling her that once she responded to his text, she was to put her phone in her purse and not look at it again. She responded. Put the phone away, and started taking off her clothes as she walked back to the bedroom.

By the time she was done massaging in the lotion she was mostly calm. She checked herself in the full length mirror in the closet, making sure that she had gotten all the hair, and that she was clean everywhere. Amused at herself for feeling so small and dependent on his approval, so quickly.

Suddenly she was starving; she drank the first beer while she was making her lunch, and the second while she was eating. She left her plate and the bottles on the coffee table, then decided to put them in the sink. She paced around the living room, unsure of the time, but expecting him soon. Finally she made herself sit on the couch, where he would see her as soon as the door opened. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, recrossed them and uncrossed them again.

Finally made herself take a deep breath, and decided to sit with both feet on the floor, knees slightly apart but not wide, and her hands on her knees. This was a posture that felt formal and correct. Then the air conditioning kicked on and she got very cold. She shivered, nipples erect, goose bumps all over her arms and stomach; she sighed, and just waited.

When he walked in the door, he deliberately left it wide open. Any neighbor walking in the hallway would see her naked on the couch. She'd looked at him, expectantly, and he'd ignored her. Put his belongings down, walked into the bedroom. The door was still open, and it was her first test. He watched her from the bedroom door and she sat up straighter, staring at the door. He took his time changing his clothes, and only when several minutes had passed did he give the order.

"Go close that door. Then come in here."

He could tell she was nervous because it took her a second try to stand up. He watched her run over to the door and close it as quickly as she could. Watched her sigh of relief once it was closed and she'd turned to come into the bedroom.

As she walked in he barked, "Present yourself to me."

Another test. He hadn't planned to give her such a cheesy, cliché order, but he did want to play with the idea of ambiguity, to see how she would react, and to help him figure out what he wanted from her. She hesitated for a split second, then stood arms out at shoulder height, head slightly tilted back, and legs spread. He walked around behind her so she wouldn't see him chuckle, then he roughly ran his hands over her limbs and torso. He stood behind her and grabbed each of her tits, crushing them against her chest and squeezing as hard as he could. He ran one hand down her spine and into her ass crack. He ran the other down her stomach and crushed her whole vulva in his hand. He felt her wince, and felt his own balls twitch with pleasure.

He leaned against her and slapped her pussy as hard as he could, four or five times in a row. She gasped and he did the same again. She let out a moan that almost sounded like a word. So he said "I told you not to talk, cunt." And kept slapping her pussy with all his might, faster than she could recover, until it and his hand were both reddened. She was breathing hard and there were tears in her eyes. He kissed her neck and gently stroked the skin he'd just assaulted. When he slid his finger into her pussy, she was very wet and he laughed in her ear. "Such a good masochist."

He walked around in front of her, lightly touching her as he did, and then told her to go to the bed, stand at the end and bend over. When she did, he spanked her on each ass cheek a few times and told her to bend over more so that her elbows were on the bed. Told her to spread her legs wider. He left her like that for a while, as he puttered around in the apartment, collecting things he wanted.

When he came back in the bedroom she heard him pulling open drawers. He put several items on his dresser, and found the bottle of lube. He squirted a large dollop right down her ass crack, and she heard him slathering something. Felt him tap her asshole again, and then he shoved something in. It was another butt plug, bigger around and longer than the one she'd had in that morning. Enough larger that it hurt, even once it was settled in place. She winced and shifted her weight, moving her hips.

He hit her ass again, spanking her like he had her pussy, seemingly really angry. She forced herself to stop moving and dropped her head onto her hands. Then he lubed up and put something in her vagina. It was larger than the ben wa balls and a much different shape. She thought it might be a vibrator, and soon enough he proved her right. He walked around the bed and held the remote control for the vibrator where she could see it. Kept pressing the button to change the pattern and intensity. The way she was bent over, with the butt plug filling her ass, the vibrator almost touched her clit.

He kept cycling through the vibration patterns, watching her reaction. Watching which one made her jump, which one made her arch her back. Watched her skin flush, waited for the right moment, and shut it off. She cried out when the sensation stopped, and almost dropped to her knees.

In response he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her over to the wall, told her to raise her arms and hold her hands against the wall. She was scared by the look on his face; he slapped her tits a few times, but with less force than he'd used on her pussy. He teased her nipples, pinching and pulling on them. He lightly slapped her face and whispered that she'd pay for her disobedience later.

He gestured to the clothes laid out on the bed and told her to put them on. He watched as she got dressed, amused that the thong and bra were too small for her. Knowing from her previous complaints how uncomfortable ill fitting underwear were. He intended her to experience different layers of discomfort, didn't want it to just be one note of pain or sexual frustration.

The tail of his shirt almost met the hem of the skirt he'd bought, and he liked that effect. She'd buttoned the shirt all the way, but he unbuttoned it except for two right in the middle. The tank top clung to her curves and the neckline was low enough that parts of her bra were visible. Overall, he was pleased. She was standing there, showing off as much as she was concealing, barefoot. He actually liked that, but realized it wasn't practical. So, as another test, he told her to pick out her own shoes. He decided that he was going to hate and threaten punishment no matter what she picked out. So he didn't really pay any attention, just told her that she'd displeased him, but there wasn't time to change anything now.