He didn’t say a word on the drive to the club. She drove carefully, weaving through the city streets, until they were on the outskirts of town. She pulled into the parking lot, and parked at the first available space.
Turning towards him, she spoke softly. “I brought some rope. Nothing fancy. But it’s in the back. May I bring it?”
He grunted. He’d not made anything with rope since being “Over There”… when he had created a hanger for the shower. That had been before, before his life was altered so abruptly. With a fierce tug, he opened the car door and hauled himself out.
He’d gotten used to the feel of the fake leg against his stump. He’d never thought that would have been possible. And part of him had embraced the pain. At times, he almost missed it. It was the one thing that seemed to tether him to his body.
She pulled the chair from the back, and wheeled it up to him, the hank of black rope coiled on the seat. The sight of it there stirred something in him; for a moment he could see the rope laced around her tits, snaking between her thighs and disappearing into that wet cleft.
“Hey goodlookin’…wanna ride?” She wiggled her shoulders, making her tits jiggle. Shaking himself out of the reverie the rope had cast on him, he looked at the bounty before him. He might be disabled, but by Jesus, he wasn’t dead yet.
Turning from her, trying to ignore the sudden insistent tremor in his balls, he headed towards the club. She rolled her eyes at his back, but smiled, too. That was the stubborn Dom she had met long ago. With a little dashing jog, she caught up to him.
“Nice to see you got your “Dom” back..at least a teeny-weeny bit.”
“More than enough for you, pipsqueak,” He shot back. Hell if she wasn’t a pistol. She might annoy the piss out of him some days, but she was cute, as well as stacked. And while there were many days that he wished he could avoid her, he looked forward to her knocking on his door almost as often. He watched her tits bounce as they made their way across the parking lot.
“Now, when we go inside, are you going to sit in this chair, and pout in the corner? And should I address you as Sir Cripple or something? To, yanno, maximize your visibility?”
He stopped and stared at her, mouth agape.
She figured shock would stir some reaction in him. She wondered if she’d gone too far. Yet pussyfooting around it hadn’t helped at all. And hell, she could always sell her house and move if she truly pissed him off.
“Slut.” He said finally. There was shock in his voice. “If you ever call me cripple, Sir or otherwise?” He paused, gathering his thoughts.
She raised her eyebrow. Not quite mocking, but very much challenging. It was a habit that most of her previous play companions found rude enough to warrant a stern spanking. In a flash, his hand reached out and pinched the top of one breast, twisting it. She moaned, gripping the rubber handles of the chair tightly. Apparently he felt it was out of line, too.
” You’re crossing lines all over the place here, slut! You will most sincerely regret it. I’ll spank you so hard you won’t sit for a month. And that will be just the start of it. Have I made myself clear?”
“Crystal,” she gasped as he continued to torque the tender tissue of her tit. He gave it one last pinching twist, before releasing her.
“You….absolute shit.” He shook his head. “Cripple.” His voice dripped sarcasm. “You’re crippled in the head if you think you can talk to a Dom that way. You know…” He stopped walking again, and she stopped with him.
“You know, I think some time on the cross for you to repent your snotty little attitude might be a good start to your re-education. Obviously you’ve not been playing regularly…either that or you’ve managed to alienate every fucking Dom here. Jeesus.” He shook his head, almost stomping up the steps. When she would have wheeled the chair up the ramp, he gestured her to lift it up the steps. She was huffing a bit as she made the top, as he stood leaning against the top railing.
“I might make you push that thing around all night, slut.”
He was smiling as he opened the door. She wheeled the chair in behind him, but he didn’t see the sly, and very happy, smile on her face.
Mission, accomplished, she thought. She’d gotten him out of the house, and back into the one place where he would fully accepted, no matter what. It was a beginning.
This is a story that has been plaguing me to be written for a few weeks. The words have come together and here my story ends…for while I could weave the sexploits of these two together…I want YOU to picture it. And perhaps someday we’ll return to this tale…and see how life has unfolded for our Hero, and his rescuer.
with thanks and deep appreciation towards all the men and women who have given, and continue to give, of themselves in service to their country. ~nilla~