For the history of Nikki and Mark, consider checking out parts 1 & 2. The emotional component of this part relies on their history (but sexy times toward the end stand alone!).
This story includes light bondage and discipline.
***
I could see she was barely staying in her seat, but I felt strangely calm as I looked over the table at her. I was glad I'd settled on dinner, not lunch, and I was glad I'd found a cozier restaurant, and most of all I was glad that Nikki had said yes.
I'd almost forgotten what a hard time she had saying no to me.
I hoped she wouldn't say no at all tonight. Or ever again. All I wanted from her was a string of enthusiastic yeses.
The lamp on the table bathed her in glorious golden light, catching the natural highlights in her hair. In the dim, her eyes were huge dark pools as she watched me closely. I wished suddenly that she were naked; I wished that we were alone, somewhere warm, somewhere moonlit. I wished I had her forever.
If I could keep her sitting at the table for even the next five minutes, it would be a miracle.
But for some reason I wasn't really worried. This just had to be said.
"Thanks for coming out with me again, Nikki."
***
Mark had been oddly quiet the whole way to the restaurant, which was just a little farther from work than the French restaurant had been, and was in the opposite direction. I hadn't caught the name-Scully's? Sally's?-but it was dark and warm and perfect, romantic, with candles and lanterns and a huge stone fireplace.
And Mark had absolutely nothing to say about it as we walked there. He wasn't withdrawn; on the contrary, it was as if he was filled with a crackling electric energy, as if he was afraid to touch me and shock me, as if he kept himself physically distanced. But I could feel his focus crushing down on me.
Whenever he looked at me, I felt pierced to my secret thoughts.
There was no way he could know how I felt-no way he could know how I'd touched myself as I thought those things I had thought... As I had pictured him telling me to lie still and take it... No way he could know that my first orgasm-the only orgasm I'd ever managed to have-came only from thinking about him coming in me, how he would sound and look and feel as he reached his peak pleasure using my body.
Still, I wavered under his gaze. The intensity was enough to keep the server away; I'd seen her arc over, take one look at us, and sail away.
He hadn't picked up his menu, so I didn't pick up mine. I knew now what I wanted from him. I knew my body wanted to soften against his hardness, my mind wanted to let go as he directed me. So it only seemed natural to wait for his move.
Because this was different from that awful lunch. Things had changed.
I was helplessly, hopelessly his.
"Thanks for coming out with me again, Nikki," he said at last. His voice seemed measured, sure of itself.
"Of course," I answered, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. It sort of was-I'd always wanted to say yes to him when we were growing up.
And I was done resisting now. Even though I knew the things I wanted would never come to be, and I would never admit them, just being with Mark and taking these small opportunities to acquiesce, to go along with him-hell, to please him-gave me a sense of instant relaxation and peace.
I could tell he noticed this change, too.
"I need to tell you something."
I waited.
"Do you remember, back in high school-senior year-when those band guys tied you up with the blue choir belts and left you in the storage closet?"
"Yes. I remember that you... you rescued me." I revisited that memory once in a while. Only recently had I realized why it filled me with a sense of excitement, why I started to feel tingly when recalling how I'd felt in that dark, lonely place, with Mark kneeling over me, working at the ropes that bound me, his occasional noise sending flutters of pleasure through my belly.
He looked away for a moment as if making a decision, then let his eyes rest on mine.
"I did rescue you. But I didn't... want to rescue you."
What?
"Nikki," he said patiently, "I wanted to do other things when I saw you... like that. When I saw how you were tied up. On the floor." His voice had gotten lower, tighter, as he leaned over the table toward me. "With nobody else around."
The ocean was roaring in my ears as he stared at me.
"I'm sorry I treated you the way I did after that. I felt so guilty. I was ashamed of what I wanted to do to you." A beat. "What I still want to do to you."
My jaw was hanging open a little, but I felt frozen. The bench I sat on was feeling hot and, I realized with a rush of embarrassment, a little damp. I shifted to get comfortable but just ended up rubbing myself against the seat. I was wearing a skirt and very thin underwear, and all it had taken was a few sentences from Mark to have me swollen and wet like a... well, like I was in heat.
I knew that if I stood, I'd have a dark spot on the back of my skirt. I hoped it was dim enough and the skirt was dark enough to hide it.
Then I wondered what was going on with Mark's body right now. Was he turning himself on like he was turning me on? Was he hard? If I slipped my foot out of my shoe and pressed it against his groin, would I find his cock ready for me?
What did it look like, I wondered, and how big was it, and what would it taste like?
And, oh god, how could it be that Mark just happened to be telling me a fantasy that meshed so painfully well with my own recently discovered desires? I couldn't believe it, not really.
My mouth was still hanging open and I still hadn't said anything to Mark. Everything was turmoil in my mind. The more I looked at him, the less I believed him; he must be joking with me, or messing with me, or somehow he knew-he knew exactly what I wanted, and he was saying it because... because...
I couldn't come up with an answer.
But this is the guy who abandoned you for ten years, the voice in the back of my mind whispered.
I told it to shut up.
And suddenly I was cracking a smile; I was unable to keep a giggle from rising to the surface and spilling out between us. It came out all scratchy and it was several seconds before I could actually talk.
"No way," I said finally. It was barely audible even to me, but I thought he heard me. He froze, rocked back, and his face closed right up.
"I'm sorry," he said, cutting me off as I tried to speak again. "I shouldn't have-I should never have brought this up. I won't do it again. I'm sorry."
With that, he pulled a couple of twenties out of his wallet, placed them gently on the table in front of me, and left. I watched his retreating figure pause at the doorway and wondered if he would look back.
He didn't.
Oh, damn it, Nikki, I thought.
***
At first when Nikki smiled, I felt hopeful, confident, that all would work out as I knew it must. We had always had some of this dynamic between us. I knew I affected her, and I adored every inch of her.
But the smile turned into a sort of wild, mocking look, which became an anxious laugh, which died and became... a No.
I'd been an idiot.
What a mistake I had made. Poor Nikki, forced to live through my horrible treatment of her at the end of school, and now having to hear my stupid fantasy about her. What had I been thinking? Would she file a complaint with HR? Would she even show up for work?
I made up my mind-I would ask her to my office and tell her in the safety of daylight that I was sorry, I should never have brought it up, and should she want to move to another company, I would do everything in my power to secure her a good position.
Idiot, I chastised myself. You selfish idiot.
That was my mantra throughout the weekend. On Monday morning I sent Nikki a message and asked her to come see me at her convenience. I didn't pull my curtains, hoping the visual openness would put her at ease.