(To read Kate’s alternate ending, click here.)
“Where?” I whispered into her mouth, her now open eyes locked on mine with complete surrender in them.
“Upstairs,” Kate whispered. “There’s a room – ”
That’s all I needed to know. I let my Lover take her own weight, and snapped my head around at Father Jake, who had been watching from just outside his door to the confessional.
Without turning back to her, I brought my fingers up to Kate’s lips, and gently slid them into her mouth. I wanted her to taste herself and me and Father Jake all at once, and I wanted Father Jake to watch. He stood there quietly, lust and jealousy fighting for control of his face, while Kate tenderly and thoroughly cleaned my fingers one at a time.
I just looked him up and down, amused at both his facial expressions and the raging bulge in his trousers.
Father Jake didn’t even hesitate, but turned and strode right out. He had apparently gotten his slacks back up and buttoned before exiting the confessional, but the buckle to his belt jingled still unhooked as he made his way quickly through the house, Kate and I hot on his heels.
Good. He needn’t have bothered buckling his belt anyway, it was going to come in handy.
As we moved through the hallway, Kate started to pull her skirt back down, but I stopped her.
“Leave it up, I want to watch your ass.”
Father Jake rounded the banister at the bottom of the steps and then stopped, waiting for us to catch up I suppose, not realizing just how close behind him we were.
As soon as he did, I reached down and grabbed his buckle and pulled it right through the belt loops until it was free in my hand. I doubled it over and cocked my head, signaling him to get moving up the steps.
Two steps up, I let him know that he shouldn’t keep me waiting again.
The crack of the belt across the back of his slacks nearly caused him to trip up the steps, but it served its intended purpose. Kate fell behind me, avoiding the swing of the belt, and I turned and raised my eyebrow at her.
She didn’t need to be told twice, and busted her butt to get in front of me.
I gave her a reminder too, just to be sure. It was a much sharper sound than the one the belt made on Father Jake’s trousers.
Leather and skin. There is no other sound like it in the world, and just the thought of it gets the hum vibrating within me again to this day.
I tried out my backhand just for good measure.
My Lover’s bare bottom now bore the large red X of Father Jake’s belt, and she was squealing like a school girl on the playground, trying desperately to run over Father Jake on the way up the steps. She had no intention of being “it” thrice in a row.
At least I was even for the incident in the bathroom the previous night.
By the time I reached the top tread, Father Jake and Kate were down the short hall and heading into one of the bedrooms.
When I reached the threshold and entered the room, I had to stop a moment and take it all in. There was a huge four-poster bed dominating the room. It was way bigger than king-sized. It was stained in a dark color, probably the same as the woodwork in the chapel downstairs. All up and down the posts and along the bed rails, the headboard, and the footboard were large cast-iron rings. Their purpose was obvious as some of them had buckled leather straps attached to them.
There was a matching chair, ostentatiously carved and as large as a throne. It too was decorated with iron rings and straps and buckles and clasps.
There was another large, matching piece of furniture, similarly adorned, but its exact usage was quite beyond me.
Over by the window was what can only be described as a stock. It looked just like something out of a movie, but it was as new as the rest of the room’s furnishings. Then I noticed it was lower than it should be. It took a moment to realize why. Someone in that stock would be bent over nearly double, and backed right up to the floor length windows. This stock may have been in a private place, but its purpose was no less public punishment for its placement. I thought of the passersby, and the views they must have gotten of that window from the street.
On the wall to my left was a large wooden rack, from which hung all manner of toys. Leather and wood put together in every conceivable way, each item meant for inflicting welts on whomever happened to be on the receiving end.
Quite the playroom Father Jake had here, and I had every intention of taking full advantage of its accoutrements.
For two days I played in that room, taking turns on my willing servants. My Love Kate taught me all sorts of ways of domination, and what each and every one of those toys on the rack was for and how it was used. I even invented two new uses for one of them.
She showed me the purpose of that strange piece of furniture, and it took me several minutes to digest the fact that someone had taken the time to invent such a thing. What an incredibly twisted mind that must have been.
For two days I brought Jake to the edge, and then left him unsatisfied. For two days I teased and tormented him, as his body bucked and arched and kicked in its need.
But in the end, Jake wasn’t giving me what I needed. He was too submissive, too compliant. I needed control, dominance, but dominance over resistance. There is no sense of victory over a willing opponent. I needed an unwilling victim. Or at least a less willing one.
I felt kind of like a lion tamer trying to tame a house cat. Jake and Kate were doing the best they could to help me quiet the hum, but it just wasn’t going away. We had a lot of fun in those two days, it just wasn’t what I needed.
When it got close to time for Mrs. Lacoste to come home on the second day, I decided to let Jake off the hook. I certainly couldn’t leave him like that, but I knew that taking him into myself wasn’t going to give me what I needed, either. I could have just let Kate ride him for about thirty seconds, but I had put him in his predicament, it was my responsibility to take care of him.
So I took Jake into my mouth and began to do what I could for him. It didn’t take an entire minute, such was his condition at that point. When he exploded, it was with such force that I didn’t have any choice but to learn something very intimate about myself.
I am a swallower.
Just so y’know.
Mrs. Lacoste came home shortly thereafter, and made us all a lovely dinner. We ate and chatted, and laughed, and ate some more, like nothing had ever happened. Somehow though, I got the distinct impression that Mrs. Lacoste knew what was up.
I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but we all enjoyed ourselves until late in the evening.
Kate and I finally left and headed back home, with me squirming in the passenger seat just as much as I had on the way there.
Kate said nary a word all the way home, but kept giving me a little sideways glance of concern whenever she thought I might not be looking.
I still love my Kate. More than ever, actually. She went to great lengths to do what she could for me.
But I still have an itch.
And I still have the hum that vibrates inside. Just beyond reach, ever waiting to resurface at any moment.