Suited

Nine

Lawrence Whitacre's Point of View

Lucas was having me help him with a puzzle as if he hadn't just rearranged my guts on the same table a little over an hour ago. It was so strange at first but he said if I helped, he'd give me another kiss so I obliged.

I'd been restrained to this table, splayed out in front of the mass of windows that made up the wall. We were only a couple of stories up. Could people see us? Holy shit.

I tried to adjust myself but that was impossible with the cage. I liked it though, oddly enough. It was heavy and snug and not going anywhere. He had the key. I wasn't sure if it was in the lustra or his pocket but I knew he had it somewhere. He mentioned caging me yesterday and I was hesitant initially but he was right. As long as I was with him I didn't need to worry about it. It was easier if I didn't have a chance to. I didn't need control. Things were so much better when he had all of it. All of me.

I'd done some kinky shit before—with girls and as a top so it was obviously a little different—but it was nothing like this had been. I didn't make girls sign contracts. Hell, I didn't make them quit first either, let alone learn another language. That stuff didn't seem important. I'd used toys before and I once had a girl ask I used a paddle on her and a few others that liked regular spanking, but this felt so much more serious. So much more in general.

I'd never pushed someone to tears. Normally that would seem like a sign to stop but, with Lucas, it felt like it was just part of the process. Like it was bound to happen. I didn't even know why I'd been crying. The stinging wasn't terrible—scratch that, the last two were explosive. They were terrible in a way that was good somehow. It was so distracting from the normal sense of discomfort I was in and after a certain point it became more pleasurable than painful. Like a pleasant buzzing. I needed to know what lotion he'd put on me too. I wasn't itchy.

It was like I wasn't even in my body anymore. It was this overwhelming sense of release and euphoria. Not to mention the actual sex—that was fucking crazy. I was completely at his mercy and he was rough but he also took his time with me.

There was a point everything kicked into overdrive and I felt like a bitch in heat. I didn't even want to think about what came out of my mouth during that. The things he'd said would make for great jerk-off material though. I was going to think about today for weeks and this was only the beginning. He hadn't even given me the contract. He let bits and pieces of information slip today but nothing substantial. I wanted to see the whole thing. There was so much that he could show me.

So I kneeled at the open side of the coffee table I'd been deflowered over with him on the couch across from me as we sorted through puzzle pieces, silent. He'd brought the finished boarder over on a tray when he had me sit. Following his rules and directions would get me what I wanted. It would get me more of this release and even more of him. If I could just lean into him, everything would be better, but I wanted it now.

"Signore," I asked, breaking the silence. He glanced up at me from his work in the bottom left corner.

I took a breath trying to settle my brain. He'd said I'd go through a drop but it was nowhere near as bad as my normal withdrawals. The only thing that stucked was the anxiety and I was a bit jittery as well. Clingy too but that had never happened before. Normally when I came down, I just wanted to be alone. I felt so different with him. He didn't shy away from me like other people.

"Why exactly do I have to wait for so long?" He looked up again, confusion planted on his face. "I totally will, just, why two weeks? You could give me the contract and give me two weeks to look it over or I could sign it now and we could start..." I trailed off. I didn't want to ask the bigger question in my mind that had begun to seep forward. I didn't want to be right, but he wasn't answering me. "Am I making sense?"