SPLASH! The ice cold water hit me like the wallop of a hammer. I was instantly aroused from the trance-like daze I had been in.

My current state started several hours before. Our relationship started over a year ago.

We first saw each other in a old, shabby, but safe, bar in my neighborhood—walking distance from my apartment; I had left my car there. I was significantly imbibing to forget my sleazy, abusing, cheating husband, from whom I was almost divorced. This was not my first foray into numbness; it provided a certain palliation period that I needed.

He arrived after I was well on my way to the numbness I sought. He sat a few stools away. I had never seen him before. Dressed in a better than average suit, he loosened his tie and ordered a Gibson Martini, extra onions. He never looked around, just down at the bar, lazily running his finger in a complex but repeating design. His drink arrived; he looked up for the first time. Seeing himself in the mirror, he seemed to toast himself, then a long pull on the drink, snatching several onions out and crunching them down.

He was a handsome man, well turned-out. Athletic build, dark hair going grey at the temples. In my semi-stupor I was attracted to him. On another day, in another place in time, I would have shown subtle interest to see what would develop. Now I just ordered another drink, having just finished my last. I had a small inward smile; it was nice to know that I could still feel a tingle—maybe again someday...

He finished his and ordered another, still just sitting there. We both could have been taken for unconscious or even dead from our lack of movement, except raising and lowering the glass in front of us.

I was sufficiently numb after my uncounted consumption, time to get home ran through my muddled mind. I paid the bartender, who knew me well, leaving him a nice tip. As I stood, or attempted to stand, my red pumps went all wobbly. Taking them off and holding them, I proceeded towards the door, weaving my way through non-existent objects.

Soon my unknown man was at my side, holding my elbow.

“You are not planning on driving are you?” he asked

“No, only live... there,” I said, vaguely motioning towards the right. “Gonna walk.”

“I will escort you to make sure you make it okay. You really are a bit unsteady.”

“Fine,” I sort of mumbled and stumbled out the door with him holding my arm.

We headed down the street, not talking, me weaving, until we reached my townhouse.

“Here,” I said, gesturing as I fumbled for my keys. Finding them, I aimed for the lock several times and missed. He gently took them and opened the door.

”Will you be okay from here?”

“No problem, thanks,” I said, wobbling into the house and closing the door. Somehow making it to my bedroom, I collapsed on the bed and never moved ‘til the morning alarm went off.

This was not an every night thing, only when I felt the need. My work never suffered. I did not have a meet the public job so my looks did not matter, much anyway. Everyone knew why I was the way I was. They knew I needed time and space; they gave it to me.

I ran into the same guy in the same bar once or twice a week for several weeks. The night always ended more or less the same, he helped me home, got me inside and left. We never even knew each others names.

Then one night he sat next to me, instead of several seats away.

“My name is Jack,” he said.

“Kitty,” I replied.

Slowly, over a few nights, our stories partially came out. His was different than mine but his reasons for wanting solace were at least as valid as mine, maybe more.

One night, after about a month of walking me home, we arrived at my door and he said, ”I believe a really good fucking is at least one of the things you really need.”

Not being as drunk as usual, I made a snap decision, saying, “I believe you may be correct. Are you up to it?”

“I only had two so I believe I am.”

“Good! C’mon in and let’s see what kind of trouble we can get in.”

Now with no thought but getting laid, I walked to my bedroom, shedding clothes as I went, never looking behind. He was right, I needed this, it had been months and months. I hoped he was good.

I flopped down on my bed, legs spread, apologizing for my lack of pubic grooming and telling him I hoped he liked oral because that is what I really wanted first. He did not disappoint. By the time I focused on him and forgot about myself a bit, I caught a quick glimpse of his well-sized cock just as he dove between my legs.

His lips and tongue were breathtaking, in more than just a mental way. I was a bitch in heat. “Do it, do it, eat that pussy! God damn, it has been so long. Fuck yes!”

I was close to cumming when he reached up and grabbed a nipple with each hand, squeezing hard and tweaking them.

“OW! Mother fucker that smarts!”

I tried to twist away and pulled at his hands, but he just held on tighter, creating even more pain. At the same time he increased his excellent work on my pussy. My body did not know which way to go, what to feel most. I was ready to climax in the midst of the pain. Finally that is what happened, an earth shaking orgasm that had my whole body shuddering uncontrollably.

“Holy mother of god!” I finally managed to scream out. “Jesus, Jack, you like to turn me inside out. And my tits, fuck man they are... well they are...” I did not know what to say, they still hurt a bit, but it was sorta good, I was baffled. My shit-bird, now fully divorced, ex never did anything like that.

He grabbed me by the hair, pulled me to the edge of the bed and then to the floor.

“You said you liked oral. Now it is your turn to prove your abilities. On your knees and suck this!”

I was kneeling in front of him, his perfectly shaved cock jumping up and down in front of me, my body still shaky from that “fucking” produced orgasm. I had needed that for so long. Taking him in my hands, I licked his cock head, just a small drop of liquid was there. The need I just had fulfilled now made me realize just how much I had missed and craved this intimacy. I took him in, licking, sucking, and fondling him; it was delicious.

His balls were big, something the ex lacked. I held them gently in one hand, caressing and coddling them, wondering how much they held for me, what would it be like after so long?

Then he grabbed my hair with both hands and began fucking himself with my mouth. He tested my gag and found none, so he pushed fully in and down, holding me tight. His sense of timing was perfect, releasing me just before I would have had to struggle. I let him have his way, fucking my mouth as I relaxed, savoring his cock.

My ex was mean, he was not. He was rough in a way that thrilled, a man who treated me almost like his property, but we both instinctively knew I was not. I did not understand why I enjoyed it; but I did.

I felt his balls begin to constrict, his leg muscles stiffening; I prepared for his onslaught of cum, but it never happened. He pulled out just before I knew he would explode. Such control.

“Still waters run deep with you don’t they? Back on the bed, legs spread. You are going to cum again before I fuck you, fuck you ‘til you beg for mercy.”

There was nothing to say. I didn’t want to protest, I wanted to cum. I wanted him to do whatever he pleased.

This time on his knees over my puss, he stared deeply in my eyes, distracting me.

THWACK! “God,” I blurted out. THWACK! “Jack, Jesus Christ I—“ THWACK!

He was whacking my clit with his cock. I was totally startled at first and then tried to bring my legs together; he held them apart with his knees. Twisting did no good, I was pinned by his weight. THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! It just kept up.

The initial shock and distress were gradually replaced by a creeping sense of gratification and even ecstasy. I still did not understand my passion for his ravagement of me, but I knew it was out of some yearning. It was not much longer...

“Oh fuck Jack! I am going to cum. Damn you! Yes, yes, now! Ahhhh, shit! Shit!”

He stopped as I lay there shaking like a willow tree in a wind storm, barely able to breathe. He leaned forward and gently kissed me. I tried to return it, but I was trembling so much I could not.

“Get on your knees woman. Now is the time for fucking!”

Oh my god, I thought, I am almost spent and now he wants to fuck. Who is he? What have I unleashed?”

I began to try turning over when he grabbed my hips, flipped me and pulled me up.

“Keep you head and arms down, just keep that ass in the air. I see you are dripping down your thighs. I love a soaked cunt, but first I think your ass needs a bit of attention.”

I did not understand exactly what he meant, but I wanted his cock desperately. Then the first slap hit me. SMACK! And then more. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

I did not complain, made no sound. After the surprise of it, I just took it. Even though it hurt, something about it touched me. Besides the pain, there was a certain indescribable feeling in me. Something was being released, something good. God I wanted his cock stuffed deep in me, but this would do for as long as it lasted.

My ass was really stinging when I felt his cock rubbing up and down my slit. He was gathering my slippery juice. My wish was soon to come true. Then the slight pushing, feeling for my opening, and then... wham, he rammed fully deep in one plunge.

“Ohhh YES Jack! Fuck me, fuck me hard, fast and deep. I love your cock. Make me scream and fill me!”

He did everything I asked and more. I was soon reduced to shouting crude, brazen, slutty desires and gasping for breath to do it with. Then the orgasms started. I was soon beaten into a blithering crazy woman, shivering and shuddering as each climax ran through me.

In the depths of my mind I felt him stiffen even more. I knew what was happening. YES! I thought. Any moment now...

“Oh fuck Kitty! Here it comes! Yes, ooh god yes!”

When his first wave hit my cervix I screamed and clenched his dick. Maybe my strongest orgasm ever began to run through me as he shot more and more hot spunk into my hungry tunnel. He soon collapsed on me, taking me to the bed.

He did not move, and I loved his weight. I lay there in ecstasy. Reveling in everything he had put me through. I began to think there just might be a glimmer of light at the end of a very long tunnel.

He eventually shrunk and pulled out, which I hated, but we kissed, really kissed, for the first time. I was in heaven.

He asked me to shower with him. I told him, “No way. I am not moving for quite awhile. You do what you want.”

He showered quickly, dressed, another quick kiss and he left. Few words had been exchanged the whole time we were together. I did not mind, I was a satisfied woman with many new things to contemplate.

It had been a moment in time. Other than each others names and a few details about our unique troubles and issues, we were almost ships passing in the night.

I did not go to the bar for the next few days. I did, however, think about him and our time together, trying to make sense out of my consent and submission to him. Why did I let that happen and most important, why did I enjoy it so much? This was not me, especially after my life with the ex. I never came up with a totally satisfying answer, but I knew I enjoyed it and wanted it again—it did not feel wrong.

I went to the bar Friday night. He was there. I sat next to him. We drank and talked more about ourselves, slowly letting out more and more detail. He looked good to me, made me feel again; I wanted him again.

He spoke first. “Not to be too bold or assuming, but I would like to show you my house. It is only a block farther than yours. Also, I want to fuck you again. Since I have not heard different, I assume you enjoyed our time together? You were wonderful and I can only imagine this fucking would be even better.”

I looked at him. I wanted the same thing. I knew we were not in love, maybe lust, but certainly not love. It was just that he wanted to “fuck” me. Not go to bed together or have sex or fool around or even screw, no he wanted to “fuck” me. This was a crude nasty word that hardly ever passed my lips, except in wild passion; he threw it around like everyday conversation. Of course he had thrown me around almost like a rag doll and I loved it. More confusion. He dressed so well, was so well groomed, was obviously intelligent. Such dichotomies.

“I did enjoy our time and would love to see your house.”

“Great! We will go as soon as we finish these. I’ll get the tab. I think this time you can walk in those beautiful red pumps. They show off your enchanting legs perfectly.”

“Thank you,” I said and finished my drink. I was relieved inside that I had shaved everything that needed it, put on new polish and styled my hair a bit. At least he would see that I was capable of turning myself out in a hopefully pleasing, feminine way.

We left the bar and headed to his place, walking with not many words passing between us. He did take the opportunity to pat and squeeze my ass several times, when we were alone on the street. After passing my home, we arrived at his about halfway down the next block. His was bigger and older than mine.

He unlocked the heavy oak door and invited me in. Then he offered me a brief tour. It was enough to tell me he not only had wonderful taste, but had way more money than me; it was impeccably, and expensively, decorated.

Leading me up the highly polished oak staircase, we entered his bedroom. His king size bed seemed almost lost in the size of the room. He turned and kissed me, a tender kiss accompanied by a warm hug. While still holding me, he felt for the zipper at the back of my dress.

“May I?” As he just exerted the lightest downwards pull.

“Please do.”

My dress dropped to the floor. I stepped out of it, now only my bra and thong remained, and of course my red pumps. He hooked my bra, I shrugged and it fell away. My nipples were already hard and he did not miss them.

Holding them firmly, he pulled me to him. “They do love attention don’t they?”

“Oh god yes,” I managed to say as his pressure increased.

That night he introduced me to leather ankle and wrist cuffs, along with the oiled hemp rope he used to tie me in an “X” on the bed. Then later the same rope was used to tie my wrists and ankles together while I was on my knees. He stayed true to form, ravaging me, causing pleasure and pain in just the right mix so as to cause maximum sexual fulfillment for both of us.

When I was finally released from my bonds, I was totally spent. I found it difficult to move very much. Even though I wanted to clean my dripping, leaking body, I just lay there, fluids slowly seeping from me.

The next thing I remember is the sun coming through a window. I was still on my back. All our bodily emissions dried on or in me; I was a mess. He was still asleep on his side, turned away from me. I slid out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom. A hot shower restored my muscles and washed away the coagulated bodily essence that coated me.

I felt invigorated, although my pussy still felt the after-effects of his assault on my body, joyful as it was.

He was sitting in bed when I came out. “My turn. Coffee is on. It will be done when I finish. I’ll be quick and then get us some. Make yourself comfortable anywhere, but please stay as you are, it is such a joy to see you au naturel.”

True to his word, he was quickly finished. Headed downstairs, he came back with a tray of coffee, cream, sugar and sweetener. We sat in chairs by a bay window, enjoying the morning. I was totally comfortable being so fully exposed. I reveled in what he had done and seen last night and the previous time. Unfortunately I did have to leave. I had plans for Saturday, things to do. I explained this and he understood.

As I was dressing he asked, “Last night you firmly said no anal and I respect that. I hope you know I will always respect all your wishes, but I wonder if you might consider something?”

Being a bit leery, I slowly replied, “What might that be?”

“Well... I sort of had the impression that you might be open to trying it under the right conditions. Did I misread you?”

“My ex tried it a couple times and it hurt like hell. Bad memories. But... you have shown me pain that is somehow rapturous, so I will consider your thoughts.”

“Good, good,” he said and produced a bag. “This contains three butt plugs of different sizes and a large tube of lube. I will demonstrate if you want, but I think it is pretty self-explanatory. Take it, experiment at your leisure. You can train yourself if you decide to at least give this a shot. I think, in the long run, it will give you great pleasure, but, of course, it is all your choice.”

I took the bag, wondering exactly what road I was going down. I never went through this with the ex, he was just mean, but Jack was showing me things I would never have considered and I was having fun. I liked him, enjoyed his company and craved having him “fuck” me.

As I was leaving, I said, “Hopefully we will meet at the bar next week.”

“Yes, I hope so too.”

For some reason neither of us had made or could make the next step of phone numbers. It would lead to more, to actual dates, not just chance encounters. I thought I was ready for that but would not make the first move.

After my Saturday errands and doing some work related research, the night was upon me. I had wine and a frozen dinner. Then I opened the bag. He was right, they were pretty self-explanatory, but I Googled them anyway. Not much more to learn there except to read some users opinions, all very interesting.

So I opened the small one, used a great deal of the lube, and inserted it. Went in fairly easy, was only mildly uncomfortable and that feeling passed. I left it there as I went about other things. By the time I was ready for bed, I debated about leaving it in overnight and decided no. Baby steps for this, but he just may have a point I thought.

On Sunday I decided to try the medium plug. The same process resulted in a bit more pressure to insert. Then a bit more pain, but it did not take long to dissipate. I took it in and out all day, trying to get used to the feeling of insertion as well as the fullness it created.

At times I thought myself crazy to be doing this for Jack. I did not know his last name or phone, yet we were becoming what I considered good friends and “fucking”, as he liked to say.

By Sunday night I was accustomed to the medium plug and decided to try the large, just to get an idea of what it was like. I am a curious person. I did not intend to put it fully in, just a quick try to see what it was like. It seemed to be about his size or even a bit bigger. I do know he was bigger than the ex, and that was very good.

So the test. Initially it went part way easily. I guess I was becoming accustomed, just like he said. As I pushed harder, it stretched me more; it began to hurt. I almost removed it but gritted my teeth and really pushed. It popped in. I was gasping a little. Deep breaths helped. I was amazed that the pain passed. The thing I considered big and was labeled “large” was in me, and I was not dying, in fact I was now curious about how he would feel back there. Could that really be enjoyable and make me cum? Now I wanted to know.

I went to the bar Monday after work. He was not there so I ordered my usual and sat as usual. There was no one there I wanted to talk with. The bartender, nice as he was, had learned long ago to just serve me and move on. Halfway through my drink, Jack came in; I was thrilled.

He sat next to me, kissed me and was ready to order when I said, “I experimented with the plugs over the weekend. Any interest in skipping your drink and having sex?”

“Good god Kitty, I think you may be coming out of your funk. I know I am beginning to. Off to my place?” he said as he threw a ten on the bar.

“Let’s go,” I said as I hopped off the stool. We both headed for the door.

That night was much like our first encounter. No rope this time, more energetic, lustful sex. My tits still got harshly treated and my ass turned red; I loved it all. After some time on my knees, my puss taking his lovely pounding as I screamed out my ecstasy, I felt the cool lube and a finger probing me. It went in smoothly and felt good. Then it was two.

“Okay lover, now is the time.”

His fingers came out along with his cock.

“Go for it Jack.” I wiggled my ass to show him it was ready and willing.

More cool lube and then the pressure.

“Breathe baby. Nice deep breaths, relax and breathe,” he said as he pushed harder.

“OH, damn,” I said as he popped in.

“Just relax. I’ll stay put until I feel you relax. We will both know when that happens.”

He reached under me and played with my clit a bit. We both felt the muscle release. He did not say anything, he just started to slowly push and retract. Going further each time, still rubbing my clit as he did. I was amazed; it felt good. Slowly his strokes got deeper and faster.

“Now you rub your pussy. I need to hold your hips and fuck you!”

He did just that. Soon he was pounding my ass like he did my puss. I was rubbing myself and beginning to cum from a combination of that and his penetration of me.

“God YES Jack! Fuck my ass. Pound it. Slap my ass! Take me, I am yours. Ohhh my fuckin god!”

Then the orgasms and my screaming started. He drove me senseless. What I had believed awful and impossible now had me in its rapturous grip. He could not last as long. I felt him stiffen and grasp my hips harder.

“Fuck baby I’m going to fill your ass. It is so damn exquisite. Ohhh YES, now! AHHh!”

It was different, but there was no mistaking it. His hot seed was gushing into my ass. His vented feelings brought on my last orgasm—a monster that shook me from nose to toes. He held me tight as I came down from it and then withdrew himself.

“Baby you should see what I see. You are wide open. What an incredible woman you are. I am so happy we met, so lucky to be with you. I love you.”

I was stunned. I knew it was in the throes of passion, but still he said those three words, I love you. Was that just another form of “fuck yah baby” or did he really mean what those words meant? A few tears leaked out before I could stop them. I quickly wiped them away.

We both lay down facing each other, hugging and kissing. Our kisses had progressed to much deeper, longer, passionate ones. I felt like a different person. My life had been renewed by this man who was cultivating my craving for pain and pleasure combined. At first I thought it was some suppressed slutiness coming out, but soon realized it was more a latent desire I had no idea I possessed.

We showered together, and afterwards I told him we needed to talk; he agreed.

“Jack this whole thing between us has been unusual, to say the least. I think we need to get it on a more normal track. So my full name is Kitty, well Kathryn, Spright, and my phone is 773-555-4657. It is a cell, that is all I use.”

“You’re right. My name is Jack, really Jack, Hawkins, and my phone is 773-555-2389. Cell like you. I hope I did not scare you with the “I love you” comment. It was in a moment of passion, but I also meant it. Maybe not like a life long commitment, but I have come to care for you greatly and want us to spend as much time together as you want.”

“I did wonder about that. I feel the same. I don’t want to meet at the bar anymore. We need to see each other like normal people do, when we both want. It is convenient we live so close. And I do not want to drink like I used to. I do not need it anymore.”

That was the real start of our commitment to each other. I cooked for him several times a week. He took me out to dinner several times a week. We spent much more time at his house, where he eventually introduced me to the dungeon in his basement. I didn’t think anything else could shock me, but this did. He had hooks in the walls, floor and ceiling. Ropes hanging from pulleys. A sybian machine. A collection of whips and paddles. A padded leather table that could be modified into almost any shape. Various wires going in and out of boxes, probes and patches. I am probably leaving things out. It was well equipped, as I would intimately learn in the weeks and months ahead.

He continued my education into the blurred line between pain and pleasure and how they met and overlapped. He was not my Master and I was not his sub. He did not try to control me, he tried to pleasure me, and he absolutely succeeded.

Two months before the ice water dousing, he proposed to me, in a sort of general way, but it was still a proposal. He suggested we live together full time for a year, give or take, and then marry if we both still wanted it. I understood his need to go slow. It had only been about ten months since the death of his wife and young daughter in a terrible car accident. So although I wanted to jump on him and smother him with kisses, I calmly told him that was a wonderful idea; I fully supported it. Over the next couple of weeks we had moved most of my things, except for the cheap furniture, to his house.

The next two months passed quickly and enjoyably. We became closer and closer to each other and our sex, of all kinds, just got better.

That brings me to the bucket of ice water. He had brought me to the dungeon where he bent me over the leather table and slapped my ass as he fucked me. Long ago I had learned his difference between fucking and making love, we did both at different times. This was a fucking. It went on until my ass was bright red, and he had expended his seed deep in me. I screamed in kinky, sensual, bliss through it all, my orgasms were legion. When I had recovered sufficiently, he had me put on the leather ankle and wrist cuffs. Then positioned me against the wall, where he used the rope and hooks to pull my arms up and out. The same with my ankles. I was in a “X”, unable to move.

He brought out the Hitachi vibrator in its special, adjustable stand. Positioned under me, he moved it up until its round head was buried between my lips, just touching my clit. I knew what was going to happen. The vibrator was diabolical. Its round ball head just kept going at whatever speed it was set at. I had been through this before.

Then he brought out two long cords with twenty wooden clothes pins on each. He started at a nipple and then worked downward, clipping each pin about two inches apart. When he was finished, I had forty pins clipped to my skin and nipples. The pain was intensely exquisite.

He started the Hitachi and watched my response as he adjusted its speed. When he was satisfied, he turned out the lights and left. I was alone in the dark. My body was beset with the pain of the clips and the stimulation of the vibrator. No one was there to hear my screams or my gasps for breath. Only the infrared camera he viewed from upstairs showed my condition.

Slowly the pain of the clips subsided as each pin position went numb. I was left with just the Hitachi. I had learned to retreat into my mind, leaving my body to react to the unending orgasms that assailed me. Soon I would fall into a stupor, between conscious and unconscious. Vague feelings of my magnificent, frenzied orgasms penetrated my brain, but I had no control over them. He always seemed to know just when to end it, just when it definitely had to stop.

SPLASH! The ice cold water hit me like the wallop of a hammer. I was instantly aroused from the trance-like daze I had been in. I was weak, but suspended by the rope. He came up to me.

“Are you ready?”

All I could do was barely nod my head. He began pulling the right cord slowly. Each clothes pin popped off, one by one, about every two seconds. Zingy bolts of agony ran to my brain with each pop. The last one stretched my nipple before it released, causing the biggest jolt. Then he reached for the left side. Zip! One hard, fast yank pulled them all at once. I screamed from the shock as I was cumming from the still vibrating Hitachi. Once again the pain was intensely exquisite.

He held me as he released me from my bonds and then carried me to the waiting soaking tub, filled with hot water, herbs and rare essential oils. Placing me gently into it, the water immediately began to soothe and rejuvenate me. He sat on a stool by my side as I recovered.

After the tub had done its work, he pulled the drain and picked me up in an enormous towel. He rubbed me as he carried me up the two flights of stairs to our bedroom. It was 10pm, time for bed and the sleep of the dead.

I woke up refreshed and began getting ready for work. It was Monday, a new week was starting. Jack was already up and dressed. The coffee was ready. He got to his office early every day. I did not need to be at mine until 9am.

I had been feeling a bit nauseated for the past few days, nothing bad but unusual for me. At noon I went to the drug store for some over the counter meds and a couple other things.

When we were home that night, I asked Jack if he still loved me as much as when he proposed two months ago.

“Kitty, why would you even ask? I love you more every day. You are my life.”

“Good because life is going to change somewhat for us.”

“How? Why?” he asked.

“Well,” I said, nervous and wondering how this would be received, “the fine print says it is ninety eight percent effective. I am the remaining two percent. We are going to have a child.”

His face changed from concern to joy. “For sure? You’re positive?”

“My period being three weeks late plus two positive home pee tests make it pretty much a done deal. Your flood of little swimmers has managed to impregnate me. Are you okay? Happy?”

He grabbed me and held me tight as he said, “Oh sweetie, I am thrilled and delighted! I never brought the subject up because you never seemed interested, and I did not want to push things. This is the best news I’ve had in a long time, besides meeting you of course!”

I laughed and cried at the same time. “I am so happy too! I was worried about you after your... ordeal.”

“They will always be in my heart, but you are my salvation and love. This is just frosting on the cake or some other silly metaphor. I could not be more elated. We have to be the most fortunate people on earth at this moment.”

A long hug and tender kisses followed. Life had transformed for both of us. He was right, we were very fortunate.