Painful Pleasures

Coms

Monica: Are you guys excited for tomorrow?

Jamie: I am packing as we speak.

Me: Packing? For what?

Jamie: Necessities really. Cleaning wipes, a change of clothes, a few toys. These types of events can get pretty messy.

Me: Oh, should I be packing too?

Monica: Only if you really want to. They usually sell a bunch of stuff, but it can get pretty expensive. Do you plan on wearing lingerie for your boy-toy?

Me: Hell no, I’m not spending 20 dollars on something he’ll just rip off 2 minutes later.

Jamie: Yo, keep the convo pg. I’m letting my lil sibling use my phone to play games.

Monica: You’re worried about us while you’re literally packing your dildos around them?

I put my phone down so I could focus. I was following a recipe for crispy skin trout with salsa verde and farro salad. I will not be explaining it because I literally googled high protein meals and picked the first thing that looked good. I was also finishing up a chapter on my computer. Well, I was thinking about finishing the chapter. For the past week, I’ve been suffering from major writers’ block. It’s likely due to my lack of an outline. I know I should try to be a bit more organized as a writer, but it’s tiring trying to come up with a complete outline. Most of the time when I come up with an idea, it’s a theme surrounded by a bunch of random scenarios. I don’t think of an ending or beginning. I start to feel overwhelmed trying to force myself to connect an entire story in one sitting. Throughout the day, I’ll get random ideas that I like more than my original thought, resulting in me having to change the entire outline. I know it’s unprofessional and risky, but I much prefer to wing it and let the story write itself. I’ve done pretty good so far, so why would I change my technique? My phone buzzed. I thought it was the group chat, but it was Nate. He sent me a photo of him cooking with a woman. It was probably his mother. They shared the same eyes and smile. She looked fairly young for having a son well into his 20s. He then sent me a picture of the pot roast they were cooking. In return, I took a selfie to show the food I was making. He replied: Yummy, with the winking and drooling emoji. Considering I was wearing a low-cut tank top, I had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the trout. I zoomed in on his photo, smiling to myself. He was unshaven with his hair put up in a bun. He wore checkered pants and a black v-neck. This was the most unkempt I’d seen of him. Still, he was remarkably handsome. So this was what he looked like outside of his normally professional attire. If I’m being honest, I couldn’t imagine him outside of a button up and trousers. This look had a different type of allure to it. His biceps were completely uncovered. Peaking just below his sleeve was an abstract tattoo. I wanted to rub the tips of my fingers across the stubble on his cheek. I imagined him smelling like sawdust and fabric softener. He looked like the type of man who liked working with tools or camping. I’d bury my face in his chest and breathe in all his pheromones. What I wouldn’t give to get a good handful of those man bitties. I laughed to myself. He was such a tease, even without trying. I could do better. I plated my food and sat at the small island. I propped the camera in front of me and tugged my shirt down to give him a better view of my cleavage. I leaned over slightly and puckered my lips so he’d think I was blowing on the food. It took a few tries, but when I was satisfied, I sent him a photo saying, It sure is. I didn’t open his next text. I wanted him to think about me. It must have worked because 20 minutes later, he called me as I was running a bath. “Yes?” I answered sweetly.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said back.

“Where's the fun if there’s no danger?”

“You’re having fun now, but will you be able to handle the repercussions when the time comes?”

“I think I’ll manage. Are you trying to scare me or something?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

I paused. Truth be told, I was shaking, but it was likely from being too excited. Or maybe anticipation. What can I say? Just hearing his voice does it for me. “You wish. You like to pretend to be intimidating, but deep down you’re just a big softy.” I slipped into the hot water, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself? Try saying that again without the tremble in your voice.”

I laughed. “Don’t read into it. I’m just a little cold.”

“Oh? Shall me warm things up a bit?” before I could even answer, he face-timed me. I got nervous and almost dropped my phone in the water. I sunk a little further down into the bubbles. When I picked up, he was in the bathroom wiping his face. “Well, isn’t this a pretty sight?” I looked away bashfully. He laughed. “You were so vigorous a moment ago. Why are you acting shy now?”

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you hiding?”

“I told you, I’m just cold.”

“Sit up.” He ordered. I made a face.

“I don’t wanna..” I felt a smile coming on. It’s not like he could force me anyway. He looked down at the camera, narrowing his eyes. It gave me the chills.

“If I have to say it again, you won’t like the outcome.”

“I might be more inclined to listen if I knew the consequences.” he didn’t respond. I lost my nerve and slowly sat up. My n*****s stood on end as they peeked through the water. Bubbles clung to my collarbone, making their way down the middle of my breasts. He smiled.

“That’s my girl.” He left the bathroom and lay down on the bed. “Play with them.”

“Aren’t you with your family right now?”

“Don’t change the subject. They’re preparing for bed.” He put an arm behind his head and waited. Reluctant, I ran my hand over my breasts. I tugged at my n*****s, lifting them just to watch them jiggle back into place. I watched him watching me. Well, he was watching my breasts. The more I played, the more sensitive they became. I enjoyed the mesmerized look on his face.

“You like what you see?”

“I’d like it more if it weren’t through a screen.” I frowned.

“Well, who’s fault is that?” I asked with an attitude. He smiled. Needing something to do to lessen my embarrassment, I started cleaning myself. I lathered up the soap and spread it across my chest. He silently watched me, making me more nervous. “Shall I put on a show for you?”

“Please do…” I got a small boost of confidence as I moved around in the water. I ran my little scrubber over my chest and down my belly. Slowly I lifted my legs, watching the bubbles fall and glide down my smooth skin. There was a slight increase in his breathing. I spread my legs and used my fingers to gently wash my flower in the water. He couldn’t see what I was doing, but he could make a pretty good guess.

“Does it feel good?”

“Not as good as when you do it,” I admitted. Maturbating can only be so satisfying. After a while, it can get boring. I wanted something more. I wanted to feel Nate's hands. I wanted to feel his warmth and watch his lust build with mine. Imagining it wasn’t enough.

“Stand up.”

“No.” I say. He looked a little surprised. “Why am I the only one who has to perform? Why aren’t you showing me your titties?” He laughed.

“Do as I say first.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“Too bad, you’ll have to make it work.” I stood up, but I wasn’t happy about it. The water cascaded down my body. I was relieved to be out. The hot water was making me a bit dizzy. “Prop your phone on the sink, turn around and bend over.” I did as I was told. Showing him my butt. My face felt flushed. This wasn’t fun in the slightest. I felt so humiliated. Why was I even doing this? “Play with it.” I uttered a complaint as I reached a hand underneath and massaged my labia. He let out a deep breath. Was he m**********g? I peeked behind me and smiled to myself. I opened and closed my lips to tease him. After 2 minutes, I sank to the floor and sat on my towel. “I didn’t tell you to move.”

“Yeah well, I got tired.” Then I grew shy. “Why are you having fun by yourself? I want to see you too.” He was quiet for a moment, before the camera shifted down. My cheeks flushed as he placed his shaft in the camera.

“Is this what you wanted?” He stroked it slowly. My heart raced and the shivers returned. I didn’t get to admire it the first time, so I was a little taken back. He really did have a beautiful p***s. How lucky of him. Ha! How lucky of me! I bit my lip, wanting nothing more than to kiss it. Precum leaked from the tip. I held my phone the same way so he’d have a clear view. I couldn’t believe I was m**********g with him over the phone. I wanted to laugh, but it’d ruin the moment. To my surprise, he muffled a groan. His eyes fluttered and then it happened. So much c*m shot out. I let out a squeal as I watched it leak over the camera. I placed my phone down to contain myself. Holy s**t, that was hot! Why was it so perfect? If this were in person, it would have shot onto my face. I giggled. When did I become such a pervert? I wish I'd recorded it. When I finally looked back at my phone, Nate was in the bathroom again, washing his hands. “Why did you scream?”

“It caught me off guard.”

“Then why’d you stop?”

“After seeing that, I don’t think I’ll be able to finish alone.” he grinned.

“Guess I’ll have to make up for the one you missed,” he said. I tilted my head. “It’s getting late, I shouldn’t have kept you up as long as I did.”

“You’re not trying to hang up are you?” I whined.

“Of course not. But you still have work in the morning, right?” I began to pout. Was it too late to call out? “I’ll stay on until you fall asleep.”

He said that, but I was having a harder time falling asleep having him on the phone. I was so excited. “How long have you been a part of this…lifestyle?” I asked.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

“The suspense will only keep me up longer.”

“I wouldn’t say there was a specific time I got into it, but I suppose I started taking my role a bit more seriously sometime after high school. I did a lot of…social research.”

“Is that your subtle way of telling me you got around in college?” he chuckled. I felt a little jealous. With his looks, I’d already assumed he was quite popular among women. Hearing him admit it made me a little uneasy. He wasn’t much older than me, so he was in college fairly recently. I wondered if he were- No, stop it. I’d only just upset myself by overthinking.

“Aida? You’ve gone quiet.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be trying to sleep?” I asked, trying to dodge the question.

“Did that upset you?”

“Why would it?”

“Just making sure you’re not overthinking,” he added. When I didn’t say anything, he continued. “If you truly want a dynamic with me, I suggest we lay down some rules.” That peaked my interest.

“Rules?”

“It’s best we communicate what is and isn’t to be expected of both of us. As your dom, I need to be sure of your limits and what you need from me. What are your hard limits?”

I thought about it. “Do you mean during s*x?”

“I mean in general. Things that will break your trust in me, or make you want to stop seeing me.” I felt a smile coming. It seemed to me like he was trying to make our relationship a bit more official. “For me, I’m big on personal space and privacy. I don’t like people going through my belongings or snooping through my phone without my knowledge.”

“You got something to hide?” I asked, becoming suspicious.

“To hide anything would mean acknowledging I did something wrong. I don’t mind showing proof of my innocence if necessary, I just ask that you ask me first. We need to be able to trust each other if this is to work. Also, do not steal from or lie to me.”

“That’s a given, isn’t it?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“So you’ve had dynamics with other women?”

“Don’t do that..” he said. It made me nervous.

“Do what?”

“Ask questions you know will upset you. I won’t lie to spare your feelings, so don’t put me in that position. Let’s focus solely on what we have, not what we had.”

That made me feel guilty, as though I was being told off by my parents. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Ugh! I felt like I was blowing it. I’m being too transparent, letting my insecurities show. To avoid ruining the mood, I thought of my own hard limits. “I don’t like being yelled at. Even if you’re mad, don’t…yell at me.”

“I would never,” he breathed.

“I doubt that. It’s a normal reaction for some people.”

“Okay. No yelling, what else?”

It was hard thinking on the spot. “Don’t be toxic.”

“Explain.”

“You know, gaslighting me and s**t. Making me feel bad for…feeling. Calling my worries overthinking, belittling me in any way or calling me out of my name.” he went quiet. “Also, I won’t stand for abuse. Unless…I say it’s okay. If I start to feel endangered by you, it’s over. And if at any point you feel bored with me, you have to let me know before you go off doing things with other women. Don’t lie to me about what you’re doing.”

“Aida..”

“And don’t try to change me either. Don’t try to isolate me and tell me who I can and can’t talk to. Also-”

“Aida, forgive me for interrupting, and please let me know if this is out of line, but are you just trying to tell me not to be like your father?” This time I went quiet. This was supposed to be healthy communication and I turned it into a rant. I was embarrassed and angry at myself.

“Hard limit three, we don’t talk about my father.”