Want It Bad (17 page)

“Carla, you’re a sexual super freak. You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

Jake seemed positively enthralled. It was cute, but his enthusiasm made him appear younger. Carla already identified a bit too much with Mrs. Robinson from
The Graduate
. She didn’t want to feel like one of those high school teachers who went to jail for seducing a student.

Carla shifted in her seat, the slight sting on her behind a lovely reminder of the time they’d just shared. She finished the last bite of her sandwich, trying to wrap her mind around the situation. Since coming over here she’d had—how many?—at least a dozen orgasms. She felt vibrant. Tired, but more alive than she’d felt in a long time.

And they still had the rest of the afternoon, and the evening. She’d paid for Jake’s time until dinner.

“So what else is on the menu?” she asked, mouth half-f.

“I have some ice cream. Chunky monkey.”

“I didn’t mean food.” Carla winked.

Holy shit, I just winked at a man. I’ve never done that in my life.

“Well, there’s a lot more to play with in the dungeon. I’m really excited to get you on the Stallion.”

He looked excited, too. Since they’d left the dungeon of pleasure, Jake’s erection hadn’t waned. Carla had promised not to mention it again, but she was really curious. Obviously, he would no doubt take care of himself after she left; Carla had been privy to two of Jake’s self-love sessions. But didn’t he have blue balls right now? Carla thought that men needed to come, or they hurt down there. At least, that’s what more than one ex-boyfriend told her.

Maybe blue balls were a worldwide guy conspiracy, to guilt women into getting them off. If so, it was the smartest scam of all time.

The house phone rang, knocking Carla out of her reverie. Jake excused himself, and went to answer it. When he picked up the kitchen line, he turned his back to Carla and spoke in hushed tones. Carla watched. She was unable to hear him, but his body language spoke volumes. His shoulders sagged. He rubbed the back of his neck. He wiped his eyes. When he hung up, he stayed facing the wall.

“Jake? Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer.

“Jake?”

“Carla… I’m sorry. Something has come up. It’s… an emergency. I have to go out. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Carla’s high spirits sunk like a pebble in a stream. Her first reaction was concern. Jake was obviously feeling bad about something. She wanted to help, and he was shutting her out.

But then, why should he let me in? I’m just a client. We aren’t friends. We aren’t… involved. This is a business transaction.

“Ok.” She stood up. “Could you call me later, let me know if we’re still on for tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

Carla wished she could see Jake’s face, but he still didn’t turn around.

“I’ll be home all night. If you, you know, want to talk about anything.”

“Thanks, Carla.”

She let herself out.

As she walked back to her house, the elation Carla had been enjoying dissipated. She had no clue what that phone call meant, but it was obviously more important than finishing their date. A date she paid for in full.

She let out a heavy breath. As easy as it was to focus a dollop of righteous rage on getting cheated out of her full session, it wasn’t the money that bothered her. It was feeling as if she’d been used and discarded. One minute Jake had been boyishly excited about her and the next he’d been on to more important things.

Jake was young, his parents were gone, what could constitute an emergency? An ex-wife? Did he have children? Had it been the doctor with some devastating test results?

When she reached her house, she went straight for the kitchen. Jake’s mention of ice cream had planted a seed in Carla’s head, and she wanted to sulk in a pint of Phish Food. She settled in on the couch with two of her favorite men, Ben & Jerry, and called Janet on speakerphone.

“Wassup, bitch? Pussy sore yet?”

“Hi, Janet. And yeah, it’s actually very sore.”

“Spill it! Don’t leave out a single pornographic detail.”

Carla gave her a quick rundown of everything that happened that morning, up until the point where she gushed all over the dungeon of pleasure’s floor.

“O. M. G.,” Janet said. “You squirted.”

“Why does everyone seem to know about this but me?” Carla asked. She’d eaten half the pint and set it aside, her sweet tooth satisfied.

“I’ve never squirted. And I’ve been with some pretty quality guys.”

Carla rolled her eyes. Janet had been with plenty of guys, for sure, but she didn’t agree with the
quality
label.

“It was embarrassing,” Carla said.

“Did he lick it up off the floor?”

“Eww. Gross.”

“Who could have known, all these years, that you were a sub who liked spanking and extreme dildos?”

“A sub for whom?”

“Not a
substitute
. A
submissive
. You know, a bottom. A masochist. A sex slave.”

Carla frowned at the phone. “I’m not a sex slave, Janet.”

“You like to be treated like a slave. Tied up. Debased. Humiliated. Spanked. Used. It gets you off.”

Carla didn’t like where this conversation was going. She’d had a lot of fun with Jake. A LOT of fun. But she wasn’t some kind of freak who wanted to be abused.

“I’m a feminist, Janet.”

“What does that have to do with anything? Anyone can be a sub. Men, women, gay, lesbian, transgender, bisexual. There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m happy you found something that gets you off.”

“I don’t get off on abuse.”

“Was it consensual?”

“Of course. I paid him, remember?”

“Did he do anything to you that you didn’t want him to do?”

“Well, really, I didn’t want to do any of it. But then I kind of got into it.”

“Did you ever have to say your safeword?”

Carla hadn’t told her about the safeword. “How did you know about that?”

“Because in any BDSM dom and sub relationship, there needs to be a safeword.”

“I didn’t say the safeword.”

“So he tied you up, forced you to come, spanked your ass, spanked your twat, and then fucked you with a baseball bat—”

“It was a dildo. And it wasn’t as big as a bat. I said it felt like it was.”

“He did all that and you don’t think you’re submissive?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“You’re O.”

“O?”

“The Story of O. Next thing you know you’ll be begging him to pierce your labia and brand you.” Janet cackled. “I am so jealous.”

Carla blinked, not sure she heard her friend correctly. “What?”

“I’m jealous. You’re such a slut. You came twelve times?”

“I… I don’t know. I lost count.”

“Shit, if I can have three in one day, that’s pushing it. And that assumes my date knows how to eat pussy. Why aren’t you still over there, getting your nipples clamped?”

“There’s such a thing?” Nipple clamps actually sounded kind of hot.

Wow. Maybe I am a sub.

“I thought you booked the man whore for the whole weekend. You just taking a break in between paddling sessions?”

“We were going to, but he got a phone call. Said it was an emergency, he had to go.”

“Did someone die?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“Shit. Think it was his doctor, telling him he had herpes?”

Carla had thought the same thing. “I hope not. But he does have that
don’t touch my cock
rule.”

“Gotta be VD. Did you use protection?”

“He fucked me with a dildo, Janet. I wasn’t worried about giving birth to a little plastic baby.”

“I knew this guy sounded too good to be true. I bet his dick is all covered with open sores.”

Carla laughed. “You are too gross.”

“You don’t have to come right out and ask him directly. It can be covert. Jake, does it burn when you urinate? Jake, when you take off your underwear, does it pull off the scabs?”

Carla laughed louder. “What the hell is wrong with you? How can we even be friends?”

“I should ask the same thing. You’re crushing on a gigolo half your age with a smelly penile discharge. You should go get tested right now.”

Carla was roaring. In the time it took her to catch her breath, she put the ice cream back in the freezer and grabbed a bottle of water.

“Okay, seriously, Janet, what do you think it was?”

“You said he was into you?”

“He seemed to be. He was hard the whole time.”

“Wasn’t you then. Must have been some real emergency. Hey, I know!”

“What?”

“Some fifty-year-old widow in Lynnwood needed to be hung upside-down and flogged, so he rushed to her rescue like a sadomasochistic Superman.”

“Is that a thing?” Carla asked, curious. “Being hung upside-down and flogged?”

“Girlfriend, you have got it bad.”

“So what’s going on with you?” Carla didn’t want to monopolize the conversation, and she was growing tired of Janet’s teasing.

“Guy from last night? King of Loserville. Had a dick the size of a Bob Evans sausage link. Which he tries to stick up my ass.”

“Seriously?”

“Serious as a high colonic. I mean, any guy can have anal sex if he wants it. At least for a stroke or two. Then he either has to apologize really fast and pull out, or buy me jewelry.”

“I can’t believe the things that come out of your mouth.”

“Girl, you wouldn’t believe the things that come in my mouth.”

“Actually,” Carla mused, “I probably would.”

“So loverboy last night doesn’t even try to look for the front entrance, he immediately tries to park it in the rear. Even that would be almost forgivable if he had at least made me come first. But foreplay to him was sticking his tongue in my ear and saying I had nice tits. How do I meet guys like this?”

“You go to bars and let losers pick you up?”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe I should try that dating service again.”

“Craig’s List isn’t a dating service, Janet. It’s where married guys go for anonymous nooners.”

“Forgot to mention that part. Guy last night? Married. I feel sorry for his poor wife. I bet she has to walk around all the time, hiding her asshole. I can picture the little creep sneaking around corners, waiting for her to walk past so he can pounce on the brown eye. Good thing he’s hung like a squirrel.”

“Have you ever used a butt plug?” Carla asked.

Janet snorted. “The only thing I’ve ever put up my ass are men who dropped more than four hundred bucks on dinner.”

“What does it feel like?”

“Shitting. But in reverse.”

“Well, I’m sorry you had a bad date.”

“And I’m happy you finally had a good one. Even though it cost you a fortune. Hey, maybe that’s what I need. Some young stud to tie me up and spank me until I squirt.”

“It’s money well spent.”

“Does he switch? Could I whip him? Because I’ve got some aggression that I’d like to take out on the opposite sex.”

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t seem like the type.”

Truth was, Carla didn’t know if Jake was the type or not. She knew very little about him.

So why was she trying to dissuade Janet from seeing him? Jealousy?

Impossible. You can’t be jealous of a business transaction

“So you doing anything tonight?” Carla asked, changing the subject. “Want to grab a bite, see a movie?”

“Can’t. Got a date. I’m seeing that married butthole-rapist again.”

“Why?”

“He’s got Redhawks tickets for next week’s game. You know I’m a sucker for watching sweaty college hunks running around in shorts.”

Carla giggled. “You’re crazy. Watch your ass. Literally.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already got a champagne cork up there. He can try knocking but he can’t come in. Seeya, skank.”

“Seeya, skank.”

Carla hung up, her good mood fading as she considered the conversation she’d just had.

A submissive? Really? Me?

She used her smart phone to do a search on Wikipedia. She learned that a submissive, or bottom, takes the obedient role in sexual play. They were often called a slave. The dominant partner, known as the top, assumes the power. They were often called the Master, with a capital M. She Googled “BDSM” and immediately found an image of a naked and bound woman, her face contorted in ecstasy, as a man dressed in leather held a Hitachi vibrator against her pussy.

The image was an instant turn-on.

Impulsively, she clicked on it, and was taken to a website full of bondage pornography. Many of the models were tied in uncomfortable positions; hanging from the ceiling, legs stretched behind their heads, in the splits, upside-down. Some were being whipped, or spanked, or paddled. Some were being toyed or eaten. Carla stared, eyes wide, at a woman whose large breasts were bound with clothesline so tightly they jutted out from her body. She had clamps on her nipples, with a silver chain connecting them. And being dripped onto her cleavage was hot wax from a burning candle.

Carla immediately clicked off, then cleared her search history. She felt dirty. Ashamed. Like she’d been caught doing something bad.

She was also wet. Very wet.

Remembering her Hitachi, Carla rushed to her bedroom, found it in the underwear drawer, and plugged it in. Then she opened Jake’s kimono and sat, spread-eagled, on the floor, pressing the vibrating head to her clit. Carla gasped when it touched her, and then—

Nothing.

The massager began to numb her down there. Just like it always had.

What the hell?

It made no sense. When Jake used it on her, it had driven her crazy. Now, it was mildly annoying.

Had Carla used up her day’s quota of orgasms?

She stopped touching herself with it, and remembered how Jake had done the same thing. Teasing. Making her beg.

Thinking of what he did, she was no longer numb.

Carla barely touched it to her clit, then immediately pulled it away.

Yesssssss. This was how to do it.

She began a stop-and-go rhythm, making herself wait for it, imagining she was tied up and Jake was doing this to her. Not letting her come. Driving her insane.

Within three minutes, Carla had a room-shaking orgasm.