Experience Life Freely in Part 3
Editor's note: the following narrative contains content of an explicit adult nature.
Hayden stared adoringly at the man towering above her as the earth finally stopped trembling. Her savior. Her gallant hero. She relished the princess fantasy he unwittingly allowed her to indulge in. Right now, he stood before her, tall and protective.
"You saved my life," she whispered with a knowing smile.
His tone held a hint of irony, but his eyes shone with a real emotion. "Ha, ha," he replied. He looked around the room. He'd heard a crash come from the closet, but everything in the bedroom seemed to have remained intact. The moment was past. The world was back to normal.
She slid her hand down his t-shirt. A few questions came to mind. "Why are you dressed?"
He looked down, still in his heroic stance. "I was going to make you French toast. I was just about to start."
A smile spread across her lips. "French toast sounds delicious."
He shifted to stand beside the bed, and she couldn't help but notice the way his gym shorts fit snugly on him. "I need to check on Tom and Rusty next door. Are you sure you're alright?"
She settled back onto the mattress, her chest still covered with the sheet. "I'm fine," she nodded.
His eyes searched the room as she soaked in his appearance. "Um... there are clothes in the chest in the closet. Find something you like. I'm going to check on them and then we need to make sure your house is okay."
She nodded again, "I'm sure it's fine. Go check on your friend. I'm going to take a shower."
Brandon blew her a kiss like an old married couple would, then left down the hallway.
She settled back onto the mattress and revelled in the high of adrenaline and endorphins. "God, he's so cute. Why does he have to be cute?" She thought of his face, his jawline, his precious tongue. But she shook her head to clear her head. She'd been emotional and moved too quickly in the past, burned every time. But it felt right with Brandon. She tried to discern what made him different as her thoughts drifted to the shower.
For one, he wasn't a for fame guy. No wealth, not compared to her, at least. He had a real job. Stable, smart, trustworthy. That last was a calculated guess, but she felt it deep within.
She longed to trust him fiercely. She knew there was no way to be certain. After all, wasn't trust about trusting despite the unknown?
Her phone buzzed. Kristen's name flashed on the screen.
"Large tremor just now. You okay?"
She smiled at the concern. Kristen was the earthy type, always checking on friends after a quake. She shot off a casual response.
"I was saved by a strong male. You know how it is."
Kristen quickly replied with, "Ooh... the details, girl!"
Hayden giggled as she left on the shower.
The bathroom had no sign of feminine touches. She shook her head at the lack of quality hair products. She made due with some soap and water. She'd take care of it better later, once she was back at her place.
When she opened the cupboard beneath the sink, she found no hairdryer. She ran through a mental list of necessities. There were things she'd need.
She surveyed his clothing. Polos, dress pants, jeans... nothing remarkably exciting. She questioned her curiosity and her actions opening his closet.
Nestled in the back, between the walls, was a sturdy chest. She paused, doubting her decision to cautiously explore. Her state was messy: caught between fear and curiosity. Gazing at the assortment of polos and dress pants, she noticed something different. A black box lay on the floor, pushed out of its rightful space by the quake's tremors. An elaborate set of handcuffs rested on the shelf above. She noticed the pink silk.
She righted the box and it revealed numerous items. A black leather collar. The handcuffs. She recognized his collection of BDSM equipment. Certain aspects didn't faze her. The flogger. The paddle. The mouse traps. Yes, mouse traps. She picked one up and studied it. It wasn't a live trap, but it did appear to be functional. She stared at the door behind her, contemplating how it felt to be rescued by its snapping jaws.
"Um... ouch, that boy's in trouble," she muttered to herself.
She continued digging through the mess. Then she spotted a set of butt plugs. Ranging from small to large, she wasn't bothered by them. She was even less disturbed by the one with a rubber dog tail. She knew such items existed but hadn't seen one this up close before.
But when she came across the strap-on, her eyebrows shot up.
"Helloooo," she said, picking it up. She examined the leather harness and its large, black phallus. A mischievous smile crossed her face as she wondered if it was what Brandon wanted.
"Is that what you want, Brandon?" she mused to herself. She put the strap-on back down.
Her next discovery made her gasp.
It was a small, unopened box. Inside was a stainless steel cock cage.
"Wow... quite the naughty boy," she chuckled to herself. She set the box aside. Next to it lay the object that caught her attention first.
Pink silk boy shorts. Way too big for her. But a perfect fit for Brandon.
Perhaps they were once worn by an ex. Big men often dated big women. Or maybe they'd been untouched, having never been donned by a woman. Whatever the case, they made her curious about what his cock would look like stretched out inside the fabric.
"Hayden?" a voice called from the doorway.
She jumped, dropping the panties.
"Oh man, not great timing," she muttered as she turned around, almost dropping the towel she was holding.
"Um... I dropped something," she said, quickly picking up the panties and dropping them back on the floor.
"What...?" he asked, entering the room.
"Um... it fell. I think it was the earthquake." She turned and bit her lip. "I was trying to find something to wear when I found this. I didn't mean to," she paused,申論しそうに頭を挫めて見つつ言った。
"That's my stuff!" he said, defensively.
"I didn't mean," she began, but he held up a hand, interrupting her.
A moment of silence passed between them. Did he notice the light shudder? She watched as he closed his eyes and shivered. This was going to be tough.
"Um... what did you see?" he asked, feeling more exposed than embarrassed.
"I don't care about that. It's nothing to be ashamed of," she said, genuinely meaning it.
But he only shook his head. He picked up a pair of cuffs on the floor.
"I'm really sorry. I know you'll judge me for this." His fear and shame were clear.
She gripped his wrist, halting him. She met his eyes. He looked scared and ashamed. This had gone beyond harmless curiosity. She had hurt him.
"Okay... I'll get answers and you'll get a handjob," she blurted out.
He looked at her, taken aback. "What?"
"I shouldn't have gone through your stuff. But now that I know about it, I want to understand. I'll ask you about it, and I'm going to stroke your cock as you talk," she continued.
He took a moment to process her words. Her impromptu solution felt like a bold move, but she felt like it might work. She wanted him to know she wasn't judgmental about his lusts and kinks. And she wanted to see how big a freak she had been with last night. She was an actress, and actors were good at improvising.
He turned around and she decided to help him. She reached for the hem of his gym shorts and lowered them. He let out a gasp, the kind she loved. She took his black boxers down as well, revealing his erect cock. This reminded her of a humiliation fetish she'd heard about, and she wondered if that was the case.
She sat on the floor in front of him, looking him straight in the eyes. "This is the deal," she said, stroking his cock gently. "You tell me the truth and I won't judge you. Just share your thoughts and you'll continue to receive this," she added, stroking his cock a little firmer to make her point.
He moaned, giving her complete control over the situation.
She held up a pair of handcuffs, dangling them off a finger. "Do you want me to handcuff you, or would you prefer to handcuff me?"
"I like bondage," he replied, his eyes fluttering and his cock pulsing under her touch.
"But are you into being the dominator, or do you prefer being the one dominated?" she asked.
"Mostly, you," he replied.
"Just mostly? There are other possibilities, you know," she said, stopping her slow strokes.
"The truth is, I have a lot of odd cravings. Even I'm unsure of what I want sometimes," he admitted without hesitation. She resumed stroking him but a little faster this time.
She held up a contraption that looked like a mousetrap. "What about this?"
"Oh God, really?" he said, looking uncomfortable. "I told you I was kinky. Sometimes that means I like painful things," he said.
She nodded, understanding the nature of his kink. "Have you used this before?"
"No, I've never injured myself," he replied.
"You once thought about applying this to yourself, I take it?" she asked.
He nodded, "I didn't want to hurt myself without knowing what the consequences would be."
"Wise decision," she said, stroking his cock a little faster.
"So, what's need sex toy with pink boyshorts?" she asked, holding them up.
"Oh God, really?" he repeated, his eyes wide with embarrassment. "You found my hidden stash of humiliating activities. I once told you I'm kinky, remember? Sometimes that means I get off on being dominated." He braced himself for any pain that might be coming his way.
She grinned and put the mousetrap down on the floor. On closer inspection, it seemed to be a harmless device. She leaned down and licked the head of his cock, enjoying the luscious texture. He moaned, completely surrendering to her.
She kept stroking him but didn't make any more unexpected moves.
"What's this?" she asked, pointing at the strap-on.
"I bought it for my ex. She couldn't care less about it," he replied.
"So you experimented with a buddy?" she surmised.
He nodded, "My ex wasn't interested in trying new things. She was more interested in pushing me away. I was desperate. I was at the point where I'd have begged for sex."
She smiled, "You won't have to beg. I don't want to humiliate you."
He looked at her, trying to comprehend the sincerity in her words. She knelt in front of him and stroked him gently.
"Brandon, you don't have anything to feel bad about this. I don't want you to feel guilty. I like you. I won't force you to beg for anything."
For most of her life, Hayden had controlled the men in her life using sex. None of them were worth the harm she'd bestowed upon them. She finally found someone she could like, someone who didn't deserve being shamed and humiliated. She was determined to be the opposite of the women he'd known before. She wanted this to be a positive experience for both of them.
While flashing a grin, he couldn't help but question, "So, what are we doing right now?" His gaze fixated on her palm.
She returned the smile with a mischievous intent, "Ready?" She queried, fully aware of his answer.
He confirmed with a strong nod.
She removed the towel covering her front and exposed an intriguing goal. She managed to breathe deeply and sensually spoke up.
"Come for me."
There was no delay for him. With such an intense atmosphere, his orgasm arrived forcefully. He noticed her toes splaying. He was lifted up by the balls of his feet during each release. She found his ejaculate covering her chest and took pride in the start of their morning. She smiled and encouraged more with a grasping hold and a series of contractions. He teetered on the brink of collapse. She observed him reverting to consciousness.
"That..." He struggled to utter.
She chortled at his speechless state. She provided assistance, "... Screwed up a wonderful shower," she added, cleaning him off using a borrowed towel.
She patted his round bottom and discovered another interesting aspect of him. She beamed and offered a steady foundation.
"You owe me French toast. I'll bath again and then help myself to some of your belongings. Then, we're invading my pad."
He raised a query, "Do you fret about quake damage?"
"Not especially. But I do have some items I want you to examine," she shared.
"Oh?" He inquired.
She beamed, "Think you're the only one who possesses a sex container?"
After exiting the restroom, he'd gathered her attire. She appreciated his thoughtfulness as it gave her a cozy feeling. She showed gratitude for the loose cotton of a shirt that had endured usage. The red letters spelled N.C. STATE and she acknowledged its history from his past talks.
He'd spread her dress and panties over a pile near the bed. She slid into the oversized attire and the shorts he'd laid out. She enjoyed the toasty comfort and held the drawstring firmly.
Hayden rolled his shoulders and stretched before walking into the kitchen. Her French toast awaited, and she sighed in gratitude. For so long, she hadn't had anyone cook a meal for her.
She opted to playfully tease him about his cooking attire.
"Not fond of wearing a State shirt," she expressed, situating herself across from him.
"What do you imply?" he asked, as he provided a fork.
"My kin are Duke supporters," she revealed.
He smirked, "I can detect the sulfuric scent. You're entertaining Duke kin in your domain. Cats and dogs coexisting. I've admittedly never witnessed such a thing."
She giggled, "Sulfur?"
He waved a hand, "Scents of sulfur. High-end, spoiled liberal kids unable to attend a respectable Ivy League school. Carolina is where money reigns supreme. State is for those who seek to produce results."
She smiled as she bit into her dish. Amused by the display of school pride, she mocked, "So, were they educating you on this pre-or-post-agriculture?
"In N.C. State, you're taught about the heroics of smelly, wealthy Duke folk," he joked coldly, trying to reestablish control.
"Alright, that was endearing," she conceded, saving him from further embarrassment. She pet his thigh lightly, sensing excitement.
Hayden chuckled and dismissed the allegory when she intervened. The conversation turned to his culinary expertise. She issued compliments on the prepared meal. His ability to produce breakfast provided her with slight romantic feelings.
"Could I ask you something?" she inquired.
"Is it about my shameless box?" he attempted a joke.
"C'mon, don't call it that," she pleaded.
"Alright, that was a lame comeback," he admitted.
"So, why are you still single?" she sought to know.
"I'm a worthless freak," he said with a measure of self-deprecation.
"The only sin you've committed is knowing how to cook. You hold a decent employment, and you're well-endowed. Why not have a relationship?"
"No, that's not what you do. You don't reveal that to girls. You don't... you don't bring them back here at all, do you?" she questioned, realizing it as she spoke.
"I'm the first," he said, unable to meet her eyes.
"And all your exes are back in North Carolina?"
He nodded.
"And they damaged you?"
He blushed and tried to laugh it off, "Um, no. Just... you know... someone you love stops loving you. It makes you doubt yourself. And after a while, you question if you're even worthy."
She pushed into his thoughts, "You are."
He tilted his head and stared at her curiously, "You're sure about that? You've only known me for a few days."
She nodded, full of conviction, "I'm sure about that."
"Why?"
"Because I travelled that same path," Hayden confessed.
He paused. A moment passed where they looked into each other and recognized themselves.
"Sometimes, it's not that you shut yourself off. Sometimes, you go out and find someone else to love. Someone who will treat you... who will mistreat you... the way you think you deserve. And it takes a police officer to tell you that what he's doing to you is wrong."
Brandon placed a hand over his mouth. The expression on his face was pure empathy. It was difficult for her to recognize it on a man's face, but she remembered after a moment.
"Brandon... many men have done terrible things to me. If you're going to be my boyfriend, I don't want you viewing me as a fragile doll."
He was still too stunned to speak. It was a good thing. She only needed him to listen.
"I know what it's like to think you deserve bad things. I'm trying to break free from that mindset, but it's not easy because..."
He leaned in, "It's alright. You can say it."
"Because I actually liked being hit," she admitted, never having uttered it out loud before.
He nodded, "You said last night, 'consent is everything'."
They shared a glance across the table.
He took the initiative, which, in that moment, was what she needed most.
"What if we simply stopped being ashamed of our desires? We could just say that we're allowed to enjoy what we enjoy and want what we want, and we don't need to be guilty about it."
She nodded, "I'd like to try that."
He extended a hand across the table. She clutched onto it as if it were her lifeline.
"Okay," he affirmed.
She felt warmth. In her hand and deep within her. She shivered, adjusting to this new sensation. It felt so secure. The white cotton enveloped her shoulders and she could smell his fragrance on the fabric. She squeezed his hand and made eye contact with him.
"Did you like this shirt?" she inquired, gazing at the fabric.
"That old thing? Yes, of course. I've worn it for three bowl games. It's one of my favorites," he said.
"Aww... that's a shame, because you'll never get it back," she smiled.
"Go State," he stated quietly.
The drive over to her house was a daydream. He put on upbeat music and they sang and laughed and enjoyed the California sunshine. It was a perfect morning, aside from the earthquake that had initiated it.
In her mind, the little voice that had adopted her therapist's intonation was telling her that this was just infatuation. She was falling for this man too quickly and it was making her careless. She silenced the voice several times before it finally stopped.
This is different. He is different. And it's his difference that will save me.
Brandon acted casual when he first laid eyes on her family mansion. She'd seen men ogle over her mansion before, but in truth, it wasn't even the most impressive house on the street.
She'd experienced men seeking her for her money, and Brandon's reaction was refreshing. He was amazed, but in a befitting manner. She hadn't been concerned, but it was reassuring to know.
She led him on a tour. It was too cold to swim in the pool, but when the weather changed, he'd treasure it. The backyard had the privacy fence and a view of the water. It was an ideal location for a tryst, she knew from experience. There'd be time for that later.
She guided him through her bedroom with its California King bed. He understood the implied message without being told. She revealed her walk-in closet to him. The journey into her closet mirrored the moment they'd shared that morning.
She allowed him to peruse a little. He noticed the cheerleading outfits from her previous job. She smiled, hinting that she would still wear them, provided the circumstances called for it. He wasn't the first guy to crave to have sex with her while she was in costume. She hoped he'd be the last. In every good way.
She tried not to make a big deal out of the large outfit bag at the back of her closet. The black bag was so large that it was hard to ignore. She considered saying something mysterious, but she wanted to be honest. This was the reason for all of this.
She faced him squarely, her back turned to the bag, and answered.
"It's my wedding dress," she said. "Vlad didn't want to go through with it, but I'd already purchased it."
He nodded, giving her room to speak.
"It seemed wrong to throw it away, but it's also just taking up space. I'll need to figure something out in the future."
He raised his palms slowly, showing he was not judging but had no idea what to say at the moment.
She sighed and changed the subject. "So... I trespassed into your privacy this morning. I didn't mean to, but it happened. And I believe in fairness. So... sit down."
He sat on the floor and tucked his feet beneath his knees. She retrieved a small stairway and used it to access a box on the highest shelf. She brought it down. It was black, with a pink ribbon and a metal clasp. She sat on the floor with the box between them.
He regarded it with suspicion. In his eyes, she might be a strange individual. He hadn't encountered someone like this since he was a youngster. She'd been in relationships like this before, but never with someone this naive.
She reached for the clasp and met his gaze. "Whatever you see in here... it's just for the two of us, okay?"
He nodded, "Of course, definitely."
She opened the lid to display her intimate treasures.
There were many bondage accessories. She had high-quality equipment just like he did. He pulled out a pair of silver handcuffs and stared at them. She explained.
"Vlad like to exert control and have power, and that's what turned me on. And I like to be the girl who is submissive and getting fucked by the strong guy," she said, feeling no shame.
"I understand," he replied. "And that sounds like a lot of fun, actually."
She nodded and moved on to the next item. A black leather collar with the word BITCH in sparkling silver letters.
He held it up and she nodded, "All the things you're thinking... yes."
He nodded again, deep in thought.
She brought out a pair of ballet heels and clicked her tongue. He took the bait.
"Not a pleasant memory?" he asked.
"I almost fractured my ankle trying to strut for him," she said with a laugh, recalling the incident. "I'd seen Beyonce do it and I wanted to try. I almost landed myself in the emergency ward."
"And you held on to the heels?" he asked.
"And kept practicing," she said, winking.
He grinned at the recollection.
He discovered the gold bikini, a classic Princess Leia. His eyes widened. She held it up for him over her chest.
"Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi..." she said with a giggle.
"You... you..."
"I enjoy Star Wars and sex," she said. "It's not as unusual as you might think. And Vlad liked me to be a little slave girl sometimes. You'd be surprised how arousing that is."
He nodded, still examining the bikini.
Another item caught his attention: a stainless steel cock cage, similar to the one he'd shown her earlier.
He struggled to regain his composure.
She described the situation matter-of-factly. "When you date a boxer, he has to train for a major fight... and they prefer to abstain during training. Because when you're in the ring on fight night and you haven't had sex for weeks, you're enraged and prepared to kill someone."
He nodded, transfixed by this intimate exchange.
"So... to ensure that your boxer stays well-behaved..." she nodded to the cage. Then she fetched her phone and handed it to him. When he turned the screen her way, he could see a photo of her seated ringside at a European fight several years ago.
"Can you see the necklace?" she asked.
He shook his head. She zoomed in on her cleavage. When she turned the phone back, he could see a silver key hanging around her neck.
She smirked, "He won that fight... and then I unlocked him and he ravaged me like an animal," she allowed his thoughts to ruminate, then finished the story.
"And nine months later, a baby emerged from me."
He was taken aback again, and she considered it a delight.
His stammering words are all she could hear.
"That's quite a lot of baggage to carry," he said.
She dismissed his worries, "I don't keep score. Either way, Vlad and I are done. You never need to worry about that."
"Revenge is a dish best served cold," she responded.
This settled his unease. He peered back inside the box and discovered a small item crammed in the corner.
She extracted the tiny, velvet ring case. She relinquished it to him. Upon opening it, he discovered a basic gold ring adorned with a minute diamond. He pondered over this.
"It's my purity ring," she explained.
"I don't..." He hesitantly began.
"Parents bestow them upon their daughters, commonly teenage girls. It's a notion to state that they'll remain virtuous until their marriage. When you ponder on it, though, it's somewhat demeaning. Nonetheless, I hadn't realized that when my father gifted this to me," she said.
He nodded, uncertain what to say. She surreptitiously removed the ring from the box and positioned it on her finger.
"He gave it to me when I was 13. I wore it nonstop until he compromised me."
Brandon's facial expression of astonishment resurfaced. She realized he'd never divulge this information. It took every ounce of resolve to avoid producing a macho scream of dread.
"Post-18, I had breast augmentation. Apparently that was a tad much for him to handle. A few weeks after the procedure, he approached me. It was a Friday night," she paused, refocusing on the incident in her mind. She averted her gaze, "Being my dad's girl unquestionably, I didn't lead a fuss."
"Hayden... I..." Brandon commenced.
"It was consensual. I'm not a victim," she asserted.
"Are..." he started once more then shut his mouth.
"Intercourse no longer transpires. However, if this is a deterrent for you, then it's preferable that I learn this now rather than six months down the line. I can't reverse the past, but I also won't apologize for it."
He shook his head, "You should never be remorseful for the things done to you," he said. "I detest that you've been subjected to... oh my goodness... I imply... SO MANY times. However,... none of that is your fault."
She inquired, "Will this cause you to abandon me?"
"Certainly not. On the contrary, it prompts me to enfold you in a giant embrace and lend assistance to anyone attempting to harm you again."
She abandoned her ferocious demeanor and gazed into his eyes.
"I've longed for somebody to convey that sentiment to me," she shared.
"I'm sorry I'm tardy," he stated. And then embraced her tightly.
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