Salting The Wounds

This is a sequel to "Will He Catch Us?"

*

The following week, Trisha totally avoided Jimmie. He called several times, at first furious, then offering her a chance to apologize, then furious again and once drunk and almost crying. She didn't know what to do or what to say to him. After having sex with his roommate right in front of him, there was no way she could face him in the harsh light of day.

She was shocked and shamed by her behavior that night. It was almost as if someone else had taken control of her body, used her like a puppet. But it had been her, Trisha knew. And she had taken great delight in inflicting a lot of hurt on a man who genuinely cared for her. And for whom she genuinely had deep feelings for as well. It didn't add up.

Why the hell would she ever do something so vicious and hurtful?

Well, she did have to admit that it was the most erotic, hot and sexual thing that had ever happened to her. By a long shot. Something about that scenario still made her blood bubble and her panties wet. She didn't like to admit it to herself, but every time she remembered that stunned look on Jimmie's face, she felt a warm tingle in her loins.

All the more reason to avoid Jimmie.

But eventually she ran into him on campus. There was no avoiding that. The conversation was one of short sentences. A question with a short answer. Shrugs and tears. Trisha tried to be honest with Jimmie. That she didn't know what had compelled her to behave like that. She shrugged and looked down when he asked her if she liked hurting him like that.

There was a long, awkward pause and Trisha waited for the inevitable tirade. The berating and dressing down she deserved. A loud, humiliating public break-up. But it didn't happen. Instead, Jimmie asked her to meet him for dinner and talk through it.

Trisha was bewildered that he would even consider giving her a second chance. She agreed to meet him for dinner the next night before she even realized what he was saying.

Talk through it? What the hell could they possibly talk through? She had done him about as wrong as a girlfriend could do her boyfriend. Why wouldn't he just curse her out, call her the names they both knew she deserved to be called and walk away? This unexpected clemency confused her and left her feeling uneasy.

She was already regretting accepting his invitation by the time she got out of her next class. It was bothering her to the extent that she decided to skip her remaining class of the day. She was too distracted to concentrate anyway.

On her way back to her apartment, she saw Russ. Trisha tried to pretend that she hadn't seen him and kept walking. But Russ saw her and called out to her to wait. She turned reluctantly and waited for him to approach.

He was a good looking man, of course. The physical attraction was easily explained. But everything else about him chaffed. He was so full of himself, so brash. Yeah, he knew he was a good looking muscular athelete, the kind that some women tripped over themselves to be with. But not Trisha. How had a jackass like that ever gotten into her pants at all? Let alone under the circumstances he did?

Of course, the answer to that was, it was the circumstances, not the man, that had appealed to Trisha. Somehow he had seen that desire in her, the femme fatale cruelty that delighted sexually in Jimmie's humiliation. How had he known she would get aroused to hurt Jimmie like that? She had never even suspected herself capable of that, let alone getting so aroused by doing it.

"Talk to Jimmie?" Russ asked with a foolish grin as he approached. Trisha nodded curtly. She had no desire to talk to the man who had enticed her into what was, intellectually at least, the worst decision of her life. Especially because the tingling in her belly told her that while her head regretted the act, maybe her body didn't?

"What did he say?" Russ asked after a pause made it obvious that Trisha wasn't going to volunteer information. "Or, more importantly, what did he call you?" Russ laughed maliciously.

"He didn't call me anything," Trish shot back, suddenly angry. "He wants to meet and talk through it." She immediately regretted adding that last piece of information.

"Talk through it, huh?" Russ asked in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "Talk through how hot you got fucking me with him watching?"

"Fuck you, asshole!" It wasn't exactly Trisha's best comeback. It just popped out of her automatically.

"With Jimmie watching?" Russ shot back. Trisha fumed, unable to think of worthy rejoinder.

"At least you admit you're an asshole," she snapped.

"Only if you admit how fucking hot it got you. Him waking up and seeing us." Trisha whirled away. She didn't need this. "Hey," Russ called after her. "I got an idea for you." In spite of herself, Trisha turned around and shot him a raised eyebrow.

Russ caught up to her and said in a low voice, "After you talk things through, he'll probably want some make-up sex, right?" Trisha looked at Russ like he had sprouted three more eyes. She didn't really expect there would be much in the way of making up. Probably more like this was Jimmie's way of breaking up... a listing of the reasons and an explanation as to why those reasons were dealbreakers and then the breakup. Right? Did Russ really think Jimmie would take her back? Did he know something? Had Jimmie talked to him? They were roommates, of course.

But Trisha couldn't really see Jimmie confiding anything in Russ these days. Before Trisha could voice these thoughts, Russ continued.

"If he does, then go along with it, okay?" Trisha didn't nod or give any indication of assent, yet Russ went on as if she had. "Get him back to his room and promise him a wild time. Tell him that you really are a wild chick, and that's what he saw the other night. Your wild side." Trisha was shaking her head. What the hell was he talking about?

"I'll set up the bed for you." Trisha's head was suddenly spinning. Set up the bed?? Russ continued, "I'll leave handcuffs attached to the bedposts, tucked under the pillow, so he won't see. When you get him in the bed, cuff him."

"What???" Trisha blurted out, genuinely taken aback.

"Yeah," Russ said in a tone that totally ignored Trisha's surprise. He was talking like she was a willing accomplice. "Get him undressed, start rolling around like you guys are going to get it on, then start telling him how wild you are and how you want to totally blow his mind and shit like that, see? And once you get him cuffed, call my cell." He looked right into Trisha's eyes as he finished the last sentence.

Trisha looked back at him, gaping. Was this idiot really suggesting that, one, Jimmie wasn't going to dump her outright and two, if he somehow miraculously didn't, that Trisha was going to do this to him?

It was bad enough, what had happened before. But that was so different. It was spontaneous, heat-of-the-moment bad judgement. This was... well, this was downright sinister. Evil, even. Russ was talking about a plan to do it again, with even higher stakes, without Jimmie being passed out drunk, forcing him to watch... watch... what was he going to watch? Russ fuck her again? Her suck Russ off again? Part of her was creeped out that she had ever done that stuff in the first place. She didn't really want to let Russ touch her again. Ever.

"You're out of your fucking mind," Trisha said after a long pause. Still shaking her head, she walked away from him. He didn't follow her, but he did call after her.

"You know I'm right. You know you want it just like that. When you change your mind, I'll have it set up, just like I said, okay?" His words went through her, like an icicle slicing into her spine. She shuddered and hurried away.

* * * * *

The next night at dinner with Jimmie, it became quickly apparent to Trisha that he wasn't looking to break up with her. He seemed to be looking for an explanation, some understanding of how Trisha had wound up having sex with Russ that night. It further became clear that Jimmie's memory of the night was pretty spotty. He remembered that Trisha had had sex with Russ, but apparently not any of the details. He obviously had no memory of the cruel, knife-twisting way in which Trisha had concluded that trist. How could Jimmie forgive that? The way Trisha had screamed in ecstasy as Russ had fucked her from behind to a blood-boiling orgasm... and then she had gotten on her knees and watched Jimmie's face as she sucked Russ off and swallowed his cum.

No, Jimmie clearly didn't recall that vile detail or there would be no chance he would be sitting here now discussing it, trying to come to terms with it and save their relationship.

So Trisha tried her best to answer his questions, tried to explain that it was something she never thought she would ever do. How she wasn't the type to deliberately hurt him, but things got carried away in the heat of the moment.

During the converstation, Trisha realized that Jimmie was just looking to come up with the rationalization he needed to not break up with her. He wanted to stay with her, but his pride required some capitulation from Trisha. So she gave it to him by apologizing repeatedly and assuring him that she must have just had too much to drink that night herself.

Trisha knew what a lie that was. She probably hadn't had two beers all night. But Jimmie was totally drunk, so he wouldn't have known that.

Once the outcome of the conversation became clear, Trisha couldn't help being distracted by the thoughts Russ had planted. She was looking at Jimmie the whole time, but only hearing about half of what he was saying. She nodded her agreement with him as he gave a long-winded explanation of why he could forgive her and move past this. But the other half of her mind was wondering if Russ really did plant handcuffs in Jimmie's bed.

And if he had? Trisha could not deny that the idea suddenly excited her. The same way Russ's proposition to make out had the first time. She couldn't concentrate on the present moment, her mind visualizing Jimmie, bound to the bed and forced to watch as... as... Trisha didn't even know what he would see. She really, sincerely did not find the thought of having sex with Russ again appealing in the slightest.

But the idea of getting fucked with Jimmie chained up and watching... Did it matter who fucked her, as long as she could see the hurt on his face? As long as she could laugh cruelly at him with another man inside her?

After that, her ability to focus on Jimmie and the dinner and the conversation or anything else about the present moment was gone. All she could think about was whether or not Russ really had put those cuffs there.

And if she would have the guts to use them. And how would she convince Jimmie to go along with it? Would he really believe she had a wild side that she wanted to share with him?

But how would she explain the fact that the cuffs were there before she was? She would have have him out of the room for a few minutes, either in the bathroom or...? She could wait until they got to his place and then tell him she would go up and get comfortable while he went and grabbed them a six pack, right?

All of these thoughts... terrible, premeditated thoughts, were swirling in her mind as she smiled and nodded through her dinner conversation. By the time they stood up from the table, Trisha already knew what she was going to do.

And Russ damn well better not let her down with those cuffs.

When they got back, Jimmie, poor guileless Jimmie, agreed to let Trisha in and then go get some beer. Even as the door was closing behind her, she was looking under the pillow for the cuffs.

They were there.

A huge surge of excitement sent her body tingling from head to toe. Her hands were almost shaking as she picked one of them up and looked at it. It felt cold and heavy in her hand. The power they implied was at once terrifying and intoxicating. She was going to use these to hold Jimmie on that bed. And then she was going to... to what? That part still wasn't clear in her mind. But as long as it involved Jimmie being forced to watch it happen, as long as she could see the emotional pain she was inflicting, it would drive her insane with arousal.

Trisha concealed the handcuffs again and stripped down to her bra and panties. She wanted to jump Jimmie as soon as he came back, get him excited and horny and use that to totally cloud his judgement. Then he'd be putty in her hands.

When he opened the door and saw her lying on the bed almost completely undressed, his response was exactly what Trisha had predicted. He wasted no time pulling off his own clothes as he leered at her and told her how hot she looked. He got down to his boxers and slid into bed beside her and they began making out passionately. Jimmie's hands and fingers were all over her ass and her breasts. He was going at it with more excitement and urgency than Trisha expected, even though it was the scenario she had planned on.

She quickly rolled him on to his back and reached her hand down his boxers. His cock was erect and warm to her touch. She stroked it as she kissed her way down his chest. Then down his belly. His eyes were gleaming with a kid-on-Christmas-Day type of excitement. He seemed afraid to move or say anything that would keep her from going where she seemed to be going.

Trisha slipped her hand out of his boxers and grabbed his hard cock from the outside of them. She let her hair fall over her eyes as she put her face to it, rubbing the fabric and the hard cock under it against her cheek. Jimmie was almost shaking with anticipation. She pulled back the waistband and planted a passionate kiss on the head of his cock.

"You want to make this really hot?" she asked, kissing his cock again.

"Uh huh," said Jimmie, nodding eagerly, a foolish grin on his face. She let go of his cock and climbed up the bed to kiss his lips. Then she threw a leg over his chest and brought her wet panties up in front of his face. They weren't wet for Jimmie, of course, but he didn't need to know that. She ground her mound against his chin and lips as she reached for his right hand. He hardly noticed what she was doing with hsi hand, of course. Her dripping pussy lips were grinding against his face, the two separated only by the thin material of her panties. It wasn't until the cold steel of the cuff touched his skin that he reacted. By then Trisha had just about gotten it on.

But not all the way. Jimmie snached his hand back in surprise.

"Come on, Jimmie," she cooed in his ear. "Let's play a naughty little game tonight. Don't you want to feel my lips on you?" She slid back, her ass rubbing against his cock as she passionately kissed the side of his neck and across his shoulder. Jimmie hesitated, but only for a moment. Without a word, he put his hand back up for Trisha to cuff. Then she took his other hand and chained that to the other bedpost.

Then she climbed off the bed and just looked at him. The thrill that was running through her was like a tsunami, a force she didn't think could be stopped. It was electrifying to have him powerless before her like this. At the same time, she knew she was standing in a precarious spot. Here was Jimmie, who was willing to forgive her night with Russ, was ready to have a night of wild sex with her. Here he was, totally vulnerable.

She could do one of two things. She could forget about Russ and just have a wild night with Jimmie, couldn't she? Or she could go ahead with this awful, evil plan.

Her eyes met Jimmie's. He was so trusting, so sincere. His eyes were like those of a loyal puppy dog and part of her felt terrible for even thinking about doing this to him.

But on the other hand, nothing about having sex with Jimmie right now really appealed to her. Not that they hadn't had some good sex together... he was a good lover, considerate and skillful. But that didn't matter right now.

The source of Trisha's arousal was all about taking that dog-like trust and shredding it. Violent, vicious betrayal. In the most depraved, slutty way she could think of.

She called Russ.

"What... what the fuck, Trish?" stammered Jimmie as she hung up the phone. "What's going on?" Trisha looked at him, the lust and arousal was still burning in her eyes, but surely he recognized that it wasn't for him that she was lusting.

"Jimmie," she said in a voice that sounded at once sultry and at the same time somewhat detached. "I'm sorry. It's not that I want to do this. Not like I want to hurt you, but..." She shrugged, grinning wickedly. "I need to do it."

He tugged at the handcuffs a few times with genuine force and Trisha wondered what would happen if he broke free. She soon saw there was no danger of that. Russ had secured them well.

She looked him over as he gave up his struggle and lay there resigned to whatever she had planned. That resignation sent a fresh thrill through her loins. He couldn't get away. She could wantonly destroy him at her leisure. Her finger slipped down inside her panties as she mulled over the possibilities. Oh, god, she was going to cum hard tonight, she thought.

"Hey roomie," said Russ as he burst through the door. His abrupt entrance startled Trisha a little. She pulled her hand out of her panties, hoping Russ hadn't seen.

She had been consumed by the thought of watching Jimmie's face, see his expression with every knife she drove into his back and turned it. She wanted to see how wretched she could make him, how reduced and shriveled and humiliated. And none of those thoughts had any hint of Russ in them. Further proof if she needed it as to what was driving her excitement,

Why was this scenario making her soooo goddam wet?

"Dude, what the fuck is going on?" Jimmie yelled, once again struggling against the cuffs. There was a wide eyed fear in his eyes. Did he think that they were going to hurt him? Physically?

"The other night," Russ said easily as he pulled off his tight fitting tee shirt, "wasn't a fluke, pal." Russ was being so direct! The way he looked at Jimmie with no remorse, no pitty... it was turning Trisha on like nothing she had ever experienced before. "I'm going to show you just how nasty she is." He nodded his head in Trisha's direction as he threw his shirt onto his own bed and started unbuttoning his jeans.

Trisha's eyes darted back and forth between Russ's hands and Jimmie's face. The realization of what Russ was saying was obviously sinking in with Jimmie. The wide-eyed look was replaced by one of disbelief. At the same time, it was sinking in with Trisha as well. Russ was about to pull out his cock. Right in front of Jimmie. And... and what? Put it in her mouth? Her pussy? All as Jimmie watched?

It was completely surreal. She could hardly feel her own skin, her own body. It felt like it was someone else's. Except for a few key places... her pussy was wet and tingling as anything and her nipples were rock hard bumps visible through her bra. Her eyes met Russ's. There was some sort of devilish conspiratorial smirk that she recognized immediately. And almost as quickly, the same grin transformed her face. She looked at Jimmie, showing him the malicious upturning of her lips.

Russ pulled his cock out of his pants. It was thick and more than half erect. Trisha looked at it, then at Jimmie. He wasn't moving or saying anything. He was just looking at her, stunned perhaps. In disbelief, no doubt.

"Get on your knees, Trisha," Russ said, his words seeming to reverberate through the small room. As Trisha sank to her knees beside the bed, Jimmie snapped out of his stupor. He began thrashing against his restraints again.

"Jesus Christ, Trish! What the fuck!" He wrenched and tugged at the unyielding cuffs. "Come on! Cut it the fuck out! Take these fucking things off and let me go!"