fucked anyone, but her thoughts and behaviors were just as damning as his actions. Not that she even knew for sure what he was doing.
Maybe he just needed time alone. Becoming a doctor was a big deal. Maybe he was feeling the responsibility too keenly. Maybe he spent those afternoons in a park somewhere, weighing his responsibilities.
Yeah, right. She knew that was crap, but she didn't want to know the truth right now; not specifically. Knowledge might be power, but for now, she chose to remain in the dark, though the ignorance felt less than blissful.
Tracy didn't get online that evening, and neither did Kyle. They watched TV for a while, then read their books, listening to Kyle's music. 'Your tastes are just too 'teenager bubble gum' for me,' he'd explained to her years ago, and her records and CDs had gradually been moved aside to make place for his more important works of Mendelssohn and Beethoven. Tonight, Mahler's Sixth was regaling them from Kyle's expensive stereo system, and as it ended, Tracy thought the three hammer blows in the final movement of the 'Tragic' seemed fitting.
They went to bed early, and Tracy was surprised when Kyle wanted to have sex. In her mind, he'd been fucking some little nurse from the hospital all afternoon and would be too spent to want Tracy as well. Kyle was hard as ever, as he pressed his large erection against her back, arms encircling her, grabbing at her round breasts.
Tracy stiffened, angry with him for the lies, angry with herself for her own, and for her inability to talk to Kyle about it. They really didn't communicate at all. Had they ever? Kyle pressed between her buttocks, trying to force her legs apart so he could stick his cock in her and come.
No kisses, no nuzzles to her neck. No loving words or whispers in the dark. How long had it been like this? They were connected only at the groin, and where his fingers roughly twisted her nipples to attention.
He removed a hand from her breast for a moment, and she heard him spitting on it, to lubricate his cock. The gesture sickened her and she pulled away from him murmuring, 'I'm really tired, Kyle.'
'That's ok, babe. You don't have to do a thing. Just spread those legs of yours and relax.' He slipped his now wet fingers between her legs, his erection still pressed against her back, and briefly massaged her clit before moving down to her opening. She felt dry as a bone, but he didn't seem to notice or mind. A moment later, his cock was at her entrance, and he pressed it against her, entering her from behind.
'Kyle, I don't want to.'
'Shh,' he stopped her words with a hand on her mouth, and Tracy stilled. She knew it was useless to argue; he would get what he wanted; he always did. His hand on her mouth aroused her, against her will. It fit neatly into her fantasy of being raped. As usual, she would get through this one by fantasizing about being 'taken'. Wasn't that what he did, really? Take her against her will, over and over again? But somehow it wasn't sexy – because it wasn't fantasy. What he did, was plain rutting. And she was his come bucket.
Yeech. The image repulsed her and the tentative mood she tried to create was lost. She felt the pain of ripping flesh as he pushed his thick hard cock into her unwilling orifice. She cried out a little, which he confused for desire. 'Yes, baby, yes. You know you want it.' He pushed harder, and she moved a little to try to better accommodate him. His hand had dropped from her mouth, and she wished he would put it back. She dared to whisper it.
'Cover my mouth again.'
No response, as he writhed against her, his long thin body heating rapidly against her. 'Kyle, cover my mouth again. That was sexy.'
'What? What are you talking about? What's sexy about that?' She didn't respond, and he didn't pursue it, getting lost again in his own gyrations inside her. Then she remembered Paul's words this morning.
'When you get home tonight, you can come. And even if you orgasm with Kyle, I want you to think of me. Think of me, and in your head, ask for my permission. Say, 'Paul, can I come?' And imagine that I am saying yes. Rremember that you belong to me, and then come like the slut I know you are.'
She saw Paul's image in her mind, the dark eyes, the enigmatic expression, and something in her softened. Kyle's cock thrusting in her didn't hurt so much now, and she barely heard his grunting in her ear.
Licking her own fingers, she shifted so she could touch her pussy, and began to rub herself in time with Kyle's thrusts. Confused images of herself this morning, panties down, legs spread, of Paul's photograph, of Guy's large thigh pressed against hers, and her usual fantasies of a faceless man holding her down and raping her, filled Tracy's mind and body, loosening her to the point of orgasm.
She barely noticed as Kyle came inside her, moaning a primal grunt as he shot his seed into her. Her own hand was busy as she finger fucked herself to orgasm, unaware that Kyle had slipped out of her and rolled away from her, leaving her back covered with his sweat and her pussy gooey with his come.
Paul, she thought, Paul, can I come? She didn't hear his answer in her head, as she exploded into a lovely orgasm, and fell asleep next to the man she'd vowed to love till death did them part.
CHAPTER 3
On Monday, Guy and Tracy went to lunch. Tracy didn't usually take lunch, preferring to eat at her desk and run errands. They went to a little Italian place near the bank and Tracy kept looking around nervously, waiting for some of their coworkers to enter and accuse them of something.
'Relax, girl,' Guy had admonished her. 'You look like a cat that stole the canary. There's nothing wrong with colleagues having lunch together. It's perfectly natural for the head teller and the new loan officer to have lunch and discuss business, and how we want to fund the next loan and all that stuff.' He grinned laconically. Guy was one of those good ol' boys who didn't believe in working very hard, and who were used to having the world handed to them.
Sailing through Southern Methodist University with mediocre grades, the frat boy partied so much, he barely learned a thing. It didn't really matter, since Guy was offered a job at his daddy's bank, immediately after college, where he made real estate loans and played lots of golf with Houston's movers and shakers down at the Houstonian. He did discover he had something of a knack for it, luckily. His move to Tracy's bank was really for a change of scenery. He was tired of Daddy's watchful eye.
He brought a sizable account with him, mostly comprised of his parents' friends and his own wealthy friends' personal loans. He didn't need to work himself, but he liked to get out, and liked the idea of having his own office, and wearing nice suits.
In spite of his seemingly shallow lifestyle, he was a decent fellow and a nice enough man. He married young to the 'right' girl, from the 'right' sorority, with the 'right' background, who would have dropped dead in horror if he'd dared to mention his own fantasies of whips and chains and taking a girl by force.
On the contrary, he was the Southern Gentleman to her Southern Belle, and for a long time it had been enough. But, two kids later, the bloom was definitely off the rose, and Guy was looking for adventure.
Guy took control, as he ordered for both of them, then sat back and eyed Tracy appreciatively. 'You're a beautiful woman,' he said, his voice lazy and southern.
Tracy looked down, pleased, but embarrassed. She truly wasn't used to other men's attentions anymore, or to Kyle's for that matter. Guy knew how to play her. He was slow and careful, not bringing up the subject they both really wanted to talk about, until she was fairly jumping with eagerness.
When he finally turned the subject that way, she responded just as he'd hoped she would. 'So about those whips and chains,' he said, grinning.
'I've thought a lot about what you said,' Tracy admitted, feeling relaxed with the glass of wine he'd persuaded her to have. She leaned toward him, her body language clear.
'I take it you haven't had much chance to explore your thoughts along those lines, am I correct?'
Tracy shook her head.
'I can take you there, Tracy. No pressure, no hurry. Whenever you feel ready, I can take you there. I can show you what it feels like to be chained, to be whipped, to be taken by someone against your will.'
Tracy sat in stunned silence. He had been so direct about it all. His words burned a path in her brain right
