Authors: William Doughty
Aqua Domination
This book is a work of fiction.
In real life, make sure you practice safe sex.
This book is made available in electronic form by permission of VirginBooks by RoverBooks.
www.RoverBooks.com
First published in 2006 by
Nexus
Thames Wharf Studios
Rainville Road
London W6 9HA
Copyright © William Doughty 2006
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-10: 0-7952-9913-3
ISBN-13: 978-0-7952-9913-1
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The author and publisher specifically disclaim any responsibility for any liability, loss, or risk, personal or otherwise, which is incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly, of the use and application of any of the contents of this book.
Stretched out on the bed, Mary tried to concentrate on Jack’s cock and her physical sensations as Jack screwed her on and on. Too on.
She would not think of David. But how can you not think about something?
David and his damn bathroom. David and his insanely peculiar fetish for combining watery soapy sex with extreme domination. She would not think of him. Or his bathroom. And all the strange equipment he kept there. At all costs she must instead concentrate on Jack’s penis. Straight sex. Nothing kinky.
‘Hold my wrists!’ she blurted out. ‘Hold me down! Fuck me without being so damn polite.’
‘Oh, Mary, you know I’m not like that,’ Jack replied, the calm voice of reason. ‘But I’ll do it for you.’
‘You’ll do it for me,’ Mary muttered in disgust. ‘If only you could do it for yourself, we might get somewhere.’
Having her wrists held down above her head helped Mary a little. Surely she could come now, and stop thinking about David.
But then she had a horrible suspicion that Jack was too polite to truly hold her down and fuck her brains out, so if she struggled she would win. That was sickening.
David was a nasty little sadist, a creep, but at least he made a woman know for sure that it was useless to struggle, so then she could struggle if she wanted to, without the fear that she might win.
Mary knew she should not struggle against Jack, and yet she simply had to know if he was man enough to hold her down. So she tried, and instantly flipped him over. She was a big, strong and fit young woman. She freed her hands, gripped his wrists and rode his body, grinding her hips down on him, devouring his cock.
‘Oh, ah,’ he moaned as he started to come.
Mary could not let Jack shoot inside her, he was too weak to deserve the honour. She slid her pussy away, still holding his wrists tightly, raised her hips high, and watched his silly penis spray lots of juice over his belly. Served him right, damn him. David would never have let her get away with anything like that. Jack could only groan like a dying dog as his cock jerked and shot, all untouched. Unwanted.
‘Why did you do that, Mary?’ Jack moaned.
‘Because I could. Because you let me.’
All at once, not knowing herself what she was doing, Mary turned and sucked up Jack’s juice. She spat it all over Jack’s face, and then she lowered her unsatisfied pussy on his wet features, engulfing and submerging him in her slobbery hot femaleness. Holding his wrists, she rubbed her gaping wet lips on Jack’s face, and came powerfully while he struggled and protested. His cries turned to meaningless gurgles and splutters under her arse.
‘You’re crazy,’ Jack gasped a few minutes later, after she had satisfied herself. ‘You should go back to that crazy bastard David. You complain about what he did to you, but really you’re just as crazy as he is. Or even more. I bet you encouraged him.’
‘Even I wouldn’t be crazy enough to go back to David.’ Mary laughed. The very idea struck her as ridiculously funny.
Go back to David, with his insane bathroom, designed and equipped for nasty kinds of watery domination.
Aquatic restraint. Severe bathing. Bondage bathroom. Shackles in the bath and whips for a soaped female. The water bed with straps. Good clean fun! Slippery sadism. Costumed cleansing, with bizarre equipment.
Nasty David, oh so cunning, so quiet and polite and funny, so good to be with. So cruel. She would not even waste time thinking for one instant about him, that was for sure.
Forget the wonderful lubrication inside and out, forget the heat, slipperiness and pressure. The breathless yearnings. The shocking orgasms of breathlessness.
Mary refused even to think of David. For the millionth time she refused.
Instead she looked at Jack, and thought of her victory over him, her triumph. Which filled her with loathing, disgust and contempt.
* * *
Three days later, Mary got out of her car in front of David’s house.
So there it was again, the place where she had suffered, leaving her with nothing left to do unless she could make it all happen again, only even more so. And she told herself she would never be that stupid. And she rang the doorbell, she rang the doorbell of such an ordinary-looking, yellow-grey brick, early 60s house in Leighton Buzzard that she could hardly believe her own memories. Leighton Buzzard, for God’s sake.
She rang the doorbell though the bottom had fallen out of her stomach and there was suddenly sweat all over her hands. People were mowing their lawns, that was how Sunday it was. Either he was there or he was not there, she told herself, and it did not matter either way, and yet she knew the fear that he was not there and she knew the fear that he was there, he and all himself.
And David opened the door.
‘Oh. Mary.’
‘Hi,’ she said. She waited for him to say something, but the silence went on too long. ‘Christ. You could try to be a little bit glad to see me. You could even try to pretend, it’d be better than nothing.’
‘Well. It’s a surprise.’
‘I tried to phone you, but I couldn’t get through.’
‘I got rid of my phones and computer.’
‘So now you have to expect surprises like me turning up,’ said Mary. ‘That’s an interesting contradiction, having to expect surprises.’ She paused, but nothing happened in the pause. ‘You’re not even going to ask me in, are you? You selfish bastard. Always were and still are.’
‘It’s not a good time,’ said David.
‘There are no good times with you, David.’
‘Ha.’
‘You don’t want me to come in, do you? I’m coming in anyway,’ she told him angrily, and pushed past him into the house. It gave her a little frisson of delight. He had been her master, yet now she was not afraid of him. But even at that moment of pleasure, there was a little disappointment. She was so tall, and so strong from working out, while he was really quite small. Had he always been so small? ‘Don’t worry if you have a new victim here. I’ll tell her you and I finished a long time ago.’
‘I’ve finished too. With all that. There’s nobody here,’ said David. He seemed so empty and down that the word ‘nobody’ might have included himself. ‘I’m sorry, but I really want to be alone right now.’
‘Do you think I care about that?’ Mary stated. ‘Do you seriously think I give a fuck?’
‘No, I guess you don’t,’ David murmured, averting his grey eyes from her gaze. ‘Come in, if you must.’
‘I must,’ Mary insisted. She stepped into the house and David shut his front door with a heavy sigh.
‘Are you moving?’ Mary asked, seeing boxes of stuff packed and apparently ready to go.
‘I hope so. I don’t know where I’ll go, and if I did I wouldn’t tell you. I won’t tell anyone from the old days.’
‘What old days? We’re too young to have any old days.’
‘Those bad old SM days.’ He led the way into the kitchen and turned on the kettle. ‘That’s all over. I’ll sell the house and take off.’
‘Why did you quit work? I phoned your office. Pete said you were burned out.’
‘Oh, he said that, did he? Fuck him. Well, he’s probably right. But fuck him anyway. That boring arsehole. Not that I give a toss what that slimy little shit said. I’ll kick his fucking head in.’
Mary felt oddly pleased to see David wake up and show some healthy nastiness. Then the state of the kitchen sank in: it could have been a set for a post-apocalypse movie, in which the last remnants of mankind hid out in the ruins of their destroyed civilisation, while outside roamed mutant insectoids intent on eating human brains or having sex with big-breasted young women. There were half-empty cartons and dirty dishes on every surface, and the smell was not good. In the midst of it all, David leaned against a wall, stared at nothing, and blended into the scene of defeat as effortlessly as if he had died there last year.
It was not easy for Mary to find clean cups or anything else, but David did not look capable of helping, so she did her best, reflecting that in this house nothing had ever been easy. She made two coffees and found some biscuits that had not gone soft or mouldy.
‘You’re taking a rest between jobs?’ Mary said brightly. ‘That’s a good idea.’
‘What’s the use of talking?’
‘How many points do I get if I know the answer?’
‘You talk too much.’
‘Not at all,’ Mary snapped. ‘You used to gag me so I could only moan and whimper, but now I’m going to talk for once. You don’t have to listen, I know you’re not interested, so I’ll just talk to myself. I suppose that’s all people ever do anyway, talk to themselves even if they imagine they’re talking to someone else. Nobody’s listening. You’re lucky in this world if someone even pretends to listen. Nobody cares about anyone else – and maybe that’s a good thing. At least it’s a kind of freedom. So I’ll talk to myself. I’ll tell myself about myself, what else can anyone do? I lost my job and I thought I’d drop in and see you on the way to visiting my parents. I was just curious to see how badly you were getting on. And it does look bad. Anyway, I’ve proved something to myself, so I’ll soon be on my way.’
‘OK.’
‘I’m going to the bathroom,’ Mary announced.
‘Why?’ he asked in surprise, looking at her more sharply.
‘Because the joy and excitement of our conversation is making me piss. No, I just have to say goodbye to it. Is it locked?’
‘No.’
David’s house had two bathrooms. The one upstairs was ordinary. Mary went to the one downstairs. How simple it was to just walk in. And yet how terrifying and complex. A bathroom. The bathroom. The place that haunted her dreams and nightmares. Or she haunted it. Surely she had died here, and came back now as a ghost. To this very same bathroom. As she opened the door her stomach churned, and she farted. She had come back to that bathroom.
We all like to say that we can recover from the mistakes of the past, that we can deal with the suffering that has been forced on us by the world’s evil. We tell ourselves that we will never make the same mistakes again, for we are better people now, stronger and more intelligent, armoured by all our bitterly won experience. We not only claim that the shocks, agonies and horrors of our former selves had some value, but also we expect that there will be no suffering in our futures, for now we can succeed where previously we failed and failed and failed.
We lie. Mary knew that for sure as soon as she took her first step into that bathroom. Her eyes darted around, she tried to see everything at once. Then she sat down and took a piss. Terrible. It was terrible how dirty the bathroom had become, almost as bad as the kitchen. What had happened to David? Once he had kept everything so clean, and it was a sick disappointment now to see the grime and stains and dust and mould, this disgusting deterioration.
No, she could not accept this filthy bathroom’s judgement on her past. She had to clean it all until it looked sparkling and new, to put right her memories. Make the past serve the present and all that crap.
Empty was the large black cupboard in one corner, which had once held a wealth of perverse, bizarre equipment and costumes, a truly shocking mass of frightening, cruel items. The sight of the empty cupboard gave her the strangest pang of sadness. He must have thrown it all away. That part of her life had gone. It is scary to think that anything has finished, even something bad.
She returned to the kitchen where David sat, apparently lifeless, though the level of coffee in his cup had certainly dropped, proving he was still alive.
‘I have to do something here,’ she told him firmly. ‘It’ll only take an hour or so.’
‘An hour or so?’ David exclaimed.
‘The bathroom is filthy. I can’t leave it like that. This is the last time I’ll ever see it, so it has to be bright and clean and cheerful, not dirty.’
‘It sounds like one of those girly things.’
‘Yes. And the other thing is, what did you do with the garments and equipment? Did you just throw it all away?’
‘I will do, but I haven’t yet,’ said David with sudden defensiveness. ‘It’s in the shed. I’ll throw it all out tomorrow.’
‘Huh! I bet it’s been there for months,’ Mary exclaimed. ‘And you tell yourself every day that of course you’ll throw it all out tomorrow.’
‘I don’t give a damn what you think,’ David insisted, but he looked annoyed.
Mary was pleased to have annoyed him. Anything was better than being ignored. ‘I want a few things from your collection, if you’re really going to throw it all out.’
‘Take anything you like. I don’t care.’
‘Thanks. Those things were around my body, David. And inside. I can’t just leave them all to be thrown out. It’s not ordinary rubbish, not after what happened to me. Think how the binmen would laugh.’
‘Let it go, Mary. Forget the bathroom. Just leave. Yes, go now. I won’t let you stay here any longer. I just want to be left alone.’
‘I’m staying an hour or two, David. Let’s talk frankly: if you try to throw me out, I’ll beat the shit out of you.’
‘Let’s not talk quite so frankly,’ said David, the ghost of his old good humour showing in his eyes. Fuck, Mary thought. She would have to punch and kick the little rat if he started to regain his charm.
‘I’ve been working out a lot, and I’ve taken courses in karate and self-assertion.’
‘All right, do what you like for one hour,’ David cried, raising his hands in mock surrender. ‘Karate and self-assertion! One or the other might be OK, but both is overkill. You’ve become an American.’
Mary went to the garden shed and found five big black plastic bags containing David’s collection of fetish garments and domination equipment. She took them into the bathroom, then went back into the kitchen and gathered all the cleaning materials she could find and deposited them beside the bags. It struck her that she might want to hold out for a long time, so she got a bottle of mineral water and a stock of muesli bars from the kitchen. It pleased her to think she had provisions for a siege.
She locked the bathroom door and looked around. What a mess. The only good things were the sunlight streaming in through the big windows at the far end of the room, and the view of David’s overgrown, untended back garden, a line of trees fine in the sunlight, and a high white fence. The nearest house was some way off behind the trees and fence, and it did not give anyone there a view into the bathroom.