Take Me Home with You Pt. 13

Joy couldn't stop touching her new collar. It was a simple half-inch wide band of brown leather, fitted with just enough room to put four fingers under it snugly, and closed with a flat metal clasp at the back.

The leather felt soft and warm and right around her throat.

Her life with Lawrence had been quieter the last few days. She was on the placebo pill stage of the packet all through her period, and although she'd been occasionally moody and reserved, they'd laughed together and shared their favourite shows, eating popcorn with the projector screen rolled down. It felt good to be together. Like they'd been living like this for years, instead of days.

He had been true to his word, though. He'd used her mouth and had her stroke him with her hands, but he hadn't even touched between her legs since he put up the calendar 8 days ago.

It had been torturous at first, then she'd gotten used to it. But now, with the feeling of his ownership on her throat, a renewed need was building in her belly, making it difficult to focus on her schoolwork.

She was trying to review sample exams for commercial law, but her eyes kept drifting back to the calendar on the wall, filled with X's that might end soon. Tonight and tomorrow she'd take the last two pills in the packet, then she'd make a decision.

She'd promised herself she would decide, but it seemed impossible to consider it--having a baby, before even finishing her undergrad degree. Wasn't that something women only did by accident? Wasn't it shameful?

She forced her fingers away from her collar, but was still acutely aware of the feeling in her lower belly. Its ache for him was constant now.

Lawrence would be home soon from work. She decided to have a shower to reset, and then maybe start making some dinner.

~~~

Joy was naked in front of the mirror, with the clasp of her collar turned to the front. There was no obvious mechanism; the metal clasp was smooth and flat, with only a very fine seam and small circular indents along each side.

She couldn't bathe with it on, but she couldn't remove it by herself.

She pondered putting her clothes back on, since Lawrence might be home late. But then she heard his key in the lock.

It was a good time to turn the shower on, and when he came in, she was standing with her hand in the stream, checking the temperature.

"I couldn't--" she touched her collar with her dry hand.

Lawrence nodded and stepped closer, pulling something shiny from his pocket and bringing it up to her throat. With a soft but solid-sounding click, the mechanism released. He slid the collar away and set it on the nearby countertop, and returned the tool to his pocket.

So it needed a sort of key. But it hadn't looked like a key, and there was no keyhole she'd been able to find in the clasp. She was curious, and her gaze lingered on his pants pocket.

"Let me get in first, kitten. I'll wash off the hospital and then you can join me." He started setting his clothing aside, piece by piece.

Joy blinked. Was that where he worked? At the hospital?

It made sense he always wanted to shower right away, then.

"What do you do, for work?"

"Radiology." He stepped into the shower and closed the glass sliding door.

"You do x-rays and stuff?" She spoke up a bit more over the falling water.

"Yes. And stuff."

She pondered that for a moment. Lawrence never offered much more than what she asked for, in conversations about him. But that's just how he was: direct and to the point.

She sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, watching him through the wet glass. He cleaned himself systematically, from head to toe with just water first, then did a second round with soap.

Head, shoulders, arms, torso, legs, feet. Top to bottom, right to left.

Joy smiled. It was an intimate thing to know about a person.

Eventually he finished, and turned slowly, rinsing off remnant suds. "You can come in."

She did, and he stepped past her to let her take his place under the water. It was wonderfully warm, and her shoulders relaxed immediately.

Then his hands were on her, soapy and smooth, sudsing up around her neck and down to her collarbone. He was gentle, but the feeling was oddly taboo. Like he was cleaning a pet, or an object.

He stepped away for a moment and she heard the pop of her shampoo bottle opening, and smelled the vibrance of oranges filling the shower. It was a smell she adored, and she stayed still for Lawrence as she heard him set the bottle aside, then rub his hands together.

He used more shampoo than she normally would. It made suds so dense she could feel their weight as he scrunched and massaged her hair and scalp, while fresh water flowed over her chin and chest.

When he leaned her forward again to rinse, one of his arms slid down to her ribs and then around her, until his hand reached her sternum and his body pressed against her back.

She could feel his erection.

Suds flowed down her shoulders and between their bodies, but he ignored them, with one hand on her chest and one stroking in her hair. His breath was heavy near her ear, and soon hers was heavy too. She arched slightly in his arms, pressing back against his penis, to feel it, to let him know how much she craved him.

"Not here, kitten."

He seemed to shake himself from his thoughts, and returned to washing her as systematically as he'd washed himself. Hair, shoulders. Right arm, then left. In each armpit he paused, paying special attention to her axillary hair and letting his fingers linger and play. Eventually she jerked away, ticklish, laughing.

He smiled when she turned to face him, but he continued all the same, over her breasts and her sides, then her tummy.

The taboo feeling returned, which she pondered for a moment and then laughed at herself for. She'd asked him to pee on her once, and hadn't felt this way then. But why not?

As his hands slid around to her back, he pressed his lips to hers and slid his tongue between them.

Her heart raced, and her skin tingled just beneath the surface. She pressed her own tongue forward to dance with his, feeling his strength and warmth. Saliva mingling.

Nothing else mattered. He could dirty her and clean her again. He could explore every part of her with his hands and claim each piece. She was his.

The water vibrated like thunder around them, drowning out the world.

The ache was so strong now.

His body so close. His penis swollen against her thigh.

Her shape melting into his.

The pills didn't matter. She could leave them behind for this. For his body filling the spaces he'd carved in her.

And he was meant to carve more. Her body was made to take his semen, to grow it inside of her.

She was pressing to him now, squirming, with her leg climbing his thigh. Their arms wrapped around each other in close embrace.

When his tongue withdrew, he kissed her lips again softly, then disentangled from her.

Joy whined audibly.

He put a hand on the side of her face, thumbing down along her cheek. "Finish up kitten. I'll get dinner started."

Then he stepped from the shower.

She saw his erection again as he turned to close the glass door behind him. It was beautiful, and it was meant to be in her.

It was several long moments before she could finish bathing on her own, but she did; washing away the slick fluids of her arousal with everything else.

Her heart still fluttered and her skin still tingled, her thoughts filled completely with him.

~~~

When she'd dried off, she put her collar back on and stepped from the bathroom naked, headed for the bedroom.

"Come here,"

She stopped and turned to see him looking at her from the kitchen island.

"I'll be right there, I just have to put on--"

"No. Come here."

She drew in a sharp breath, but obeyed.

The light outside was waning but the curtains were still wide open in the living room. She felt exposed as she walked through to the kitchen, with the damp still evaporating from her skin.

"Dice." He gestured to a nearby cutting board with two bell peppers on it.

Onions were already sizzling in a pan, and Lawrence was de-boning chicken thighs and slicing them into long strips. She glanced out the large windows again, chewing her lip. Once she reached the island, her lower half was out of sight to anyone outside. But her breasts were still on display to anyone who looked far enough inside.

She diced.

He was dressed in his houseclothes; loose cotton pants and a black tee shirt she'd snuggled into once before while watching movies. The contrast made her nakedness all the more impactful.

But still, she diced.

She was sure she could feel eyes on her from everywhere, but she refused to look outside or even at Lawrence.

When she finished with the peppers he swept them into the pan and handed her a colander of freshly-washed cilantro. "What's happening this week?"

"Oh-- uh," she paused with the knife in her hand, unable to think and strip the leaves at once.

He turned to the sink to wash his hands, giving her a moment to think.

"My friend Ava from school is moving back East. So she's having a send-off downtown on Saturday, at a bar. I think I-- I mean, she wants me to dress up."

She'd been pretty insistent about it, actually. Joy only had one dress, and it'd have to do the job. She wondered if her nice shoes were still in good enough shape to go out in.

"Sounds like fun." He scraped the chicken into the pan and the hiss was near-deafening.

Joy made a noncommittal noise that Lawrence probably couldn't hear over the chicken. She finally managed to run the blade down the cilantro stems, shaving off the leaves in short strokes.

"Anything else?"

"Just studying. But I don't think I can get any more done tonight."

~~~

They ate fajitas at the table, with lime soda she hadn't known was in the fridge. When she exclaimed over it, he laughed.

"It's no good keeping veggies hidden away at the bottom. They end up forgotten. I keep drinks in both the drawers."

He poured them each a glass over ice, and she took a sip.

He still hadn't let her dress herself. The air flowed around her body in constant reminder, and she could feel her bottom imprinting with the texture of the dining chair.

It made her sit a little straighter, though; aware that he could see so much of her.

The feeling of his hands on her in the shower hit her again, and her breath caught in her chest, her belly and groin tensing. She remembered what she'd said to herself.

"I-- I made a decision."

He set down the fork he was using to fill a second tortilla, and looked back at her. He always seemed so calm, but this time she was sure there was something more there.

"Yes." His voice was restrained.

"I won't take the pill, after tomorrow. I'm-- done. With them. I need-- I mean I--"

She floundered for words, trying to express the feeling to him, and what she felt inside her belly and her groin every time he was near. But before she could finish, he'd stepped around the table.

He hooked a finger under her collar and tugged. She could feel the pull right through her body, drawing her up against him. He kissed her lips softly, then without a word, pulled her by her hand into the bedroom.

The lights were already dim, and he paused to draw back the covers, pulling one pillow halfway down the bed before he wrapped his arms around her, grasping her bottom and lifting. She wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him, feeling the energy building in her core.

This was where she belonged. In his arms, in his bedroom.

They fell into bed together, kissing and groping. He spread her thighs open around him, on top of her.

Her head was lower than her hips, because of the pillow he'd moved, and the angle felt awkward but exciting. His hands were on her where he hadn't touched in over a week, climbing her thighs and cradling her vulva. She ground against him, rejoicing in his attention.

His clothing was in the way. His penis was stiff but hidden away, and she pressed at his waistband until he groaned in his own frustration and rose to remove the pants and shirt.

"Daddy," she breathed up to him.

Then he was on her again. His breath hot in her ear, and the head of his penis seeking her entrance.

"Daddy please,"

She pressed up, trying to align her labia for him, and feeling the press of her fluids shifting inside.

"Daddy, breed me again--"

He pressed past at an angle and the side of his shaft slipped upwards against her vulva, dragging through her slick fluids. Up and down he continued, until it slid freely; half of his shaft coated and dripping. His breath in her ear was still heavy, and hoarse now too.

He reached one hand down, aligning them better.

She pressed upwards immediately-- but he'd kept his hand wrapped around the head, blocking its entry. She groaned loudly in need, pressing again.

"Daddy please!"

He rubbed it on her, teasing, making her cry out louder in need.

Then he shifted his sopping tip downwards. Into her crack.

A mistake.

"Daddy-- move up a bit-- that's too low."

He shifted lower, though. Pressing until it touched her puckered hole.

Not a mistake.

Joy gasped, reaching for his penis to move it-- but he grabbed her arm with his free hand and pinned it beside her.

She tried to jerk away, crying out.

"I can't-- that's where I-- please don't, Daddy, I beg you!"

But it was too late. He was pressing harder, denting her anus inwards.

"DADDY NO!"

His body was over hers. His chest heaving with his own arousal.

He gave a small thrust.

Joy screamed as her anus finally gave way, opening around him, stretching wider than it had ever needed to before. The pain was intense, and she felt the first tears falling.

He paused in her, growling.

A sob caught in her throat.

It was too much, and too-- too dirty.

She should tell him no.

He'd given her a moment, but only that. He pulled back slightly, then thrust again, slower and deeper.

Joy wailed, long and loud, clawing at his shoulder with her free hand until he grabbed that arm too, pinning her completely.

His invasion was deep. She could feel her rectum stretching wide around him, filling. Her skin flushed deep pink from her face to her chest in horror. It felt like when she had to go. And what if she had to-- what if--

He thrust again.

Every movement was too much.

Her tears flowed freely, and she could feel the trails down her temples into her hair.

His movements were smoother now, but deeper with every thrust, until it felt like he was stroking her spine from inside her body.

As the pain dulled, a new feeling grew. An unknown, built of pressure and momentum.

"AAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH!" Joy yelled almost directly into his ear, her body trying to curl and align around his shaft, with both arms still pinned at her sides.

What was this feeling? How was her body turning this intrusion into something else?

It wasn't right, but she couldn't stop it. It grew and grew with every thrust, with every long stroke that reached her core.

Her empty vagina still ached, dripping fluids that she could feel cooling on her perineum on their way to surround his penis and join his thrusts.

He moved faster now, stroking himself in her tightest hole. His breathing came in gasps and growls, and the pressure on her arms was almost too much.

His body curled, clenching, and he roared.

She was shocked not to feel a hesitation in his ejaculation as it pressed past her anus. It flowed as easily into her as ever, pulsing all along his length until it spread in her, coating and filling her bowels.

He'd thrust in deep, with his scrotum pressed tightly to her. Her legs were spread-eagle.

Her body marked inside, in the most secret of places.

Lawrence shifted one of his hands up higher, to her wrist, and caught his thumb under the edge of her collar. She felt it pulling, then tightening on her throat.

Her eyes widened, her cries caught short--

He shifted in her again, rocking in and out with his still-pulsing penis. She could feel his balls shifting in her crack.

The pressure was neverending.

His control of her complete.

Suddenly, all the building momentum inside her, all the built up power and pressure, released at once, flooding her with a pleasure she'd never even heard of.

It spread like fire, raging and consuming her.

Rushing through her body and her head until everything around her faded to a deep ash-grey.

~~~

Eventually, she came back to herself.

He was still on top of her, breathing heavily. She couldn't feel the pulse of ejaculation anymore; but although he was softening, his body hadn't left hers.

He'd let go of her arms, and was resting partially on her chest and partially on one forearm braced in the mattress. She wiggled a little, enough to raise a hand to touch his face.

The texture of his beard-stubble grated under her fingertips.

"Kitten." His voice was hoarse.

She tried to respond, but there were no words for the feeling in her. She stroked his jaw again instead, with her wet eyes on his.

He didn't seem to have any words left, either. But he managed to lift himself from her. His penis pulled free with a gentle pop of suction, and she could feel a long drip fall into her crack, then the smear of his shaft across her bottom as he shifted behind her, turning her.

A moment later he pressed his body to her back, curling around her. Holding her tightly.

He'd marked her in the last place she had left.