Gomez (NSFW)

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"What happened to your watch?"

She took his wrist and pulled it toward her with her right hand, pointing to his timepiece's customary location. The contrast between the dark tan forearm and the pale silhouette was so sharp, it bordered on cartoonish. In lieu of a response, he wore a look of surprise and stared into her eyes. Following the nonverbal theme, she darted her return gaze from his eyes to his wrist and back, while tapping lightly on the lighter skin of his forearm. She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

He glanced down and gasped, though whether it was playfully or if it was a symptom of another break with reality, she couldn't tell.

"What happened to my Bulova!?"

"That's what I just said!" She unintentionally tightened her grip on his wrist and shook it slightly in mild exasperation. ...So much like a mother, questioning her son about stains on his Sunday's finest.

Truth be told, she hated that goddamn watch and was glad to be rid of it - if only temporarily. It was given to him as a gift by his ex-wife, a ridiculously frivolous item that she'd purchased thanks to a loan that she'd taken out in His name. Having never paid a cent on it, the loan defaulted, and the responsibility to repay (including its criminally high interest rates and fees) fell to Him. Nevertheless, He valued the timepiece higher than any other material possession and referred to it exclusively as My Bulova.

The fact that it was missing was confounding.

The fact that he was clearly pretending not to notice..

..was suspicious.

"We have to look for it!" He exclaimed.

Her suspicious estimation of the situation dissolved. She felt a tinge of panic rising in her chest but forced it back down. He was about to flip his shit. The coming situation would require her steadiness. She maintained her composure and attempted to soothe him. Before she could make a move, however, his hands clapped onto her face with such speed that it startled her out of mom-mode.

His powerful hands controlled Her skull with absolute authority. She could feel the heat from his palms on her cheeks and jawline. The tips of his middle fingers nearly met back at her ponytail. The other fingers gripped her head like lines of longitude, from his pinkie fingers at the base to his indexes on her crown. His thumbs framed her vision, creating a tunnel through which she could only see his eyes and the bridge of his nose. His elbows were tucked in tight between their chests, and acted as a pivot as he pulled her in closely. When he spoke, it was with the shell-shocked quiet intensity of a warrior trapped behind enemy lines - quickly and concisely issuing what might be his final orders.

"You. Go look for it in the shop. I'll check the bedroom. Meet back here in five."

He looked at the perfectly circular tan line on his wrist to confirm the time and let out a quick scream of terror. It might have been hilarious in a movie...to Her, it was equal parts frightening and funny. She didn't know whether to help or laugh, so she remained frozen.

He dropped his hands and took a long cleansing breath. She took her cue and opened her mouth to speak but he held up one finger and her mouth snapped shut. She was aware of an emptiness as the heat from his hand vanished, replaced by a perfectly timed breeze of chilly November air.

Brian pointed to himself.

"Bedroom."

Then, to her.

"Shop."

She stomped off, away from the rear of the house, across the back yard and to the 12'x12' tool shed in which He created all of his masterpieces and stored all his tools. She grumbled internally at having to search the sanctuary she knew almost nothing about. If anything, He should be searching the shop while she searched the bedroom!

Stupid God damn fucking watch, she thought to herself. She despised catch twenty-two situations nearly as much as she despised the item that had stuffed her into one. On the one hand, she wished the stupid ex-hooker heirloom would just stay gone forever. On the other hand, she didn't know how adversely this was going to affect her already unstable beau, so finding it was a necessity.

Fuck.

She pulled hard at the heavy, stubborn security door. The door pulled back, thanks to gravity and un-level construction. She managed to swing it out and pushed on the makeshift 2x4 that slid to lock the door open.

What the fuck?

All of Brian's tools were gone. From the lawnmower to the wrenches, not a piece of hardware was in sight. The only visible items in the room were a recliner, and a shower curtain hanging from the ceiling. Presumably, it was for protecting equipment from dust and flying debris while he used his other tools.

Her heart began to sink.

His glassblowing equipment had vanished as well...

Her heart dropped to the floor.

Somebody must have stripped the shop clean under the cover of night! Her hands trembled uncontrollably. She could feel her rapid heartbeat pounding in her ears. This could not have come at a more innoportune time. She wanted to cry. She had no idea how to break this news to her love. She had no idea how this news would be received.

But it would not be pretty.

Just before the tears welling in her eyes began to fall, the door slammed shut behind her. The room filled with an inky blackness, punctuated harshly by a thunderous metallic thud that echoed through the void.

She spun around, ready to charge toward what she assumed was the door when she heard a teensy little

c-c-c-Click!

A single, dim yellow light bulb ignited above her. In an instant, her vision returned and her lover appeared out of the blackness.

He was dressed to the nines: Striped navy suit, color coordinated pocket square and power tie, flawlessly polished Florsheims. His face was freshly shaven. Before she could inquire about the speed of this wardrobe change, she detected a very light, delicious fragrance that had been sent her way courtesy of the security door. Soap. Pomade. Fabric softener. Toothpaste. He wore a menagerie of simple scents - nothing exotic, nothing powerful - but the effect created by the combined efforts of several innocuous fragrances seized control of her olfactory senses.

She felt drunk. In the span of only minutes, she had felt nearly every powerful emotion she could name. She had all but forgotten where she was. Motionless, speechless, stunned, she made no effort to reclaim control of the situation.

"If I may?" He said, softly. He held out his hands, palms upward. Involuntarily, she placed her hands on top of them. He lifted them to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

She stared, in puzzled silence.

He lowered their still held hands and took a step forward, kissing her softly on the lips. Again, she opened her mouth to speak.

Before she could utter a word, she noticed a coldness on her wrists and looked down in time to see that he'd used sleight of hand to secretly bind her in handcuffs!

"I-!"

Szzziiip!

He pulled on a rope she hadn't noticed before. Her wrists launched toward the ceiling without consulting her. Investigating the cause, she observed a pulley system on the ceiling. When she returned her eyes to him, he was fastening his end of the nylon braid to a hard-mounted metal plate on the wall.

"What the fffmmmfmfmf," she began, stifled by the corded leather bite, which he placed in her open mouth.

"Shhhh," he cooed at her as he secured her new gag with a knot behind her head. He held her chin in his hand. "Don't speak. Feel."

This is it. I'm gonna get murdered, She thought, as she adapted to breathing around the uninvited guest that took shelter between her teeth. Her heart was fucking RACING.

He grabbed her elbow and gently assisted her in spinning around to face the arbitrary shower curtain she'd seen upon arrival. He reached up and grabbed a fistful of curtain near where it met the bar, and slung it hard to the right. She attempted to identify what lay behind it, but his body obstructed her vision. He pulled his smartphone out of his pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and set it down. Music began playing softly in amazing surround sound throughout the workshop. Light Me Up, by Birdy filled the air.

She glanced around.

When did he install a sound system???

Her attention snapped back to her lover (and now captor) when he turned on his heel to face her once again. He had a small chain in his hands which he tossed over His shoulders the way a doctor would a stethoscope. Casually, he approached her.

"My gift to you," he said enigmatically.

"What gift?" She tried to ask back...it came out in all vowels.

He grabbed her flannel pajama top at center mass and wrenched it open with perfect control. Powerful enough to rocket every button across the room. Fast enough to be shocking. Gently enough to cause no harm.

The shop had heat, and it was insulated from the autumn chill outside, but that didn't entirely mitigate the sudden rush of cool air on her now exposed breasts.

She felt like her nipples could cut glass.

She realized she was now panting, as if she'd climbed 30 flights of stairs. Her heart continued battering her rib cage beneath her perfect tits. Her torso was extended and back arched, the side effects of her arrested wrists as they hung high above her.

She wanted to cry. Not out of sadness, but from overwhelming. She was scared.

She was excited.

He tugged on the chain dangling across his chest on one end, which whipped the other end around his back. Skillfully, he caught the other end as it completed its arc and she noticed rubber-tipped clamps at each end.

She'd intended to argue the final destination of those clamps, but she'd accumulated a mouthful of spit and could not speak through it. She managed to swallow it at the exact moment that the clamps found their new home - gripping her rock hard nipples.

She winced, and her knees buckled involuntarily. The only thing that prevented her from collapsing to the floor in agonizing ecstasy were her restraints, which allowed her to dangle. It wasn't long before she chose standing as a less painful alternative once again.

He smiled big.

She almost hated him.

All she wanted to do was form a sentence, calling him a bastard or a sadist but each time her brain began the process, the heavy chain would swing and tug on her breasts. The resulting effect was a staggering inability to think of anything but the physical sensations she was enduring.

Enjoying??

She felt the drawstring of her pajama bottoms cinch momentarily, as He tugged at one end of the bow knot that held them aloft. The thin, plaid pants surrendered to his touch, much like her knees had wanted to do only moments ago. With no shackled wrists to restrain them from collapsing, however, they plunged to the floor, resting in a crumpled heap around her ankles.

She immediately regretted not wearing panties under her PJs.

He paused to admire his prize. Then, He turned to the table slowly. If he was as excited and dazed as she, he made no sign of it.

In the silent reprieve that occurred, she became mildly self-aware. The awareness did not come quickly, however. It crept back slowly. A string of drool she'd neglected to suck back and swallow made its way past her teeth, as well as the leather bite which held her mouth ajar. With gravity as its accomplice, the string escaped down her chin and leapt toward freedom, landing on her right breast. It left a beautiful shimmering trail as it traced her ample silhouette, stretched toward the floor of the shop, and fell toward freedom.

The soft sound of music was a susurrus compared to the deafening hiss of her sucking back the remaining saliva that had accumulated in her mouth, and the tiny slap made by a single drop of spit as it smacked the ground.

Without turning around, he froze for an instant with perked ears, and she knew that he knew what had occurred at his six.

She was instantly aware.

Regret for her carelessness, for allowing herself to drool..

The sensation of the air as it cooled the trail from her collarbone downward..

Her exposed form, suspended from the ceiling..every inch of flesh on her body became hyper-aware..

She could hear things she'd never been able to perceive before this moment..

An extension cord hit the floor and he spun around before she could complete her journey back to rational thought. She was still drunk on the situation at hand, and until he released her, she was putty in his.

A flood of emotions smashed against her struggling grip on reality like a wave..uncertainty, worry, curiosity, anticipation. She adjusted her footing involuntarily and the motion rocked the heavy chain that bridged the clamps. Another wave smashed the weakening defenses of her mind.

One of his hands was behind his back, she noticed. The extension cord looked like a tail.. She didn't know what he was concealing but clearly batteries were not enough to power it. With his free hand, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close. The chain pressed between them with their familiar sting, though the sting was not the main event of sensations. After being naked and untouched for full minutes - ages, it felt- the unfamiliar fabric of his suit caressed against her skin and her mind exploded, reeling from the experience.

She felt His rough hands and soft cuffs on her Tailbone.

Then, His lapel and undershirt gracing her breasts, followed by her tummy as he drank her in deeper.

Finally, her hip bones smashing against his slacks, and her pajamas limply tickling her ankles.

Her entire body enjoyed being massaged in unison by this fucking euphoric cloth, while her nips and wrists protested their abuse and her loins screamed in hunger.

At the height of the ride, he bent down and dug his teeth into her neck. He didn't just nip the outside flesh. He sucked her in and bore down firmly around the muscle, sending shocks throughout her entire frame. She saw stars as tendons were plucked like guitar strings, eliciting involuntary spasms from her feet. She not only allowed him to play her, she welcomed it, dimly aware of the pivotal surrender as it occurred.

Then, it was over.

He pushed her back gently, back into the cold. Her body begged to be wrapped again in his embrace as he reached to the table and produced a massive device, coating the tip with a clear liquid from a pump bottle.

For a moment she wondered if he'd planned to place it inside her. She gulped at the thought...half opposed, half willing to do anything he bade. It looked like a miniature baseball bat. It had a soft round bulb at the end, that resembled a traditional light bulb. As it clicked on and began its loud, steady hum, she realized what it most likely for. He slathered the excess liquid against her eager box, and again the waves crashed behind her eyes.

He looked directly into her dazzling sapphires and slipped that same heavy hand around her throat. Her body responded for her, arching her head back, anxious to give him as much throat as he desired. He gripped it firmly and pulled her close, towering over her and still staring deeply into her soul.

Then it happened.

Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!!!!

She roared through the leather gag, and he growled back, digging the large vibrating bulb against her vagina.

Her thoughts were HOLY FUCKING SHIT! Her voice, however, was a mangled, gutteral sound: A language she'd never before spoken, that came from deep within her ribs.

The goddamn fucking waves!

The waves!

They flowed endlessly, in breakneck cadence, rushing and rushing again, beating the shit out of her psyche. She could barely stand; instead, she held herself up by holding on to her chains for dear life, almost free-hanging, as he played with his toy and his toy dominated her reality.

Then, again, it stopped.

His hand left her neck, and gently slapped her swollen box twice. She jerked at the sharp snap, and panted hard through the gag. Drool now ran freely from the sides of her mouth, soaking her chin, neck and chest. The animal, visceral part of her brain reveled in it, and if she had free hands, she would have positively bathed herself in her own saliva.

He placed four fingers together and cupped her precious flower. A small amount of pressure, and the simple separation of the two middle fingers, served to pull back her labia and expose every tender juicy part of her hidden wonder to the outside world. Then he struck again.

Zzzzzzzzzzz!

This time, She could feel it in her teeth. He wasn't so rough this go-round, instead focusing specifically on her throbbing clitoris. Roughness be damned, however. The gentle touch to her fully exposed button was twice the rush of the first. He danced the device in soft circles, adding and subtracting subtle hints of pressure.

He's painting a fucking masterpiece with my pussy, thought some part of her from far back in her consciousness. The thought was cut off, however, when he plunged two fingers deep inside of her and restarted the original, more ferocious onslaught.

Fuuuuuuuuuck!

Her entire body convulsed, and froze, at the same time. Her toes didn't just curl, they achieved rigor mortis! Each toe was in business for itself! Her eyes wanted to roll back into her head, and open wide, and slam shut simultaneously. Not only was the entire fucking world in full blown apocalypse, something behind it, more powerful, was building as well.

He massaged her internally, occasionally pausing to hold pressure on a certain spot he'd discovered inside that she'd never before learned she'd had. Then he released the pressure, massaged, and held again. All while dancing with her extremely eager button. Over and over again. As the music reached the crescendo, so did he.

He dropped to his knees.

He held and worked her G spot, and pulled her soaking wet womanhood into his mouth.

She was about to-

When all of a sudden, he shoved the toy against her back door, sending brand new holy fucking shit shockwaves throughout her entire being! The shove, and the reflexive thrust away from it, jammed her box harder into his hungry mouth and she came...

And she came and she came..

She thought it would never fucking end. Was it 3 successive orgasms? Or an insanely drawn out one?

She just

Kept

Coming.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to crash. But he wouldn't let her. Not until she was finished.

When it was over, she felt as if all the life had been sucked out of her. Echoes and aftershocks pulsed throughout her frame.

He lifted her lightly soiled pajamas from the floor as she struggled to catch her breath. He tied a nimble knot, cinched her waistband, and fastened her a bow. Then, he reached up, keyless, and unfastened her cuffs. She was astonished to find that they didn't require a key, most likely a child's replica. But she lacked the mental faculties to fashion a statement about them. She merely stood there, still bare chested and astonished, as she rubbed her wrists.

He picked her up gently, and sat on the recliner. She remained on his lap for a long time, silent, as he stroked her hair and rocked gently.

It felt like ages before she spoke again. When she did, the topic was not what he'd expected.

"Wait- so what THE FUCK happened to your watch?? It was all a trick??"

"Ta-daa!" He said in jest, gesturing toward the carnage he'd manifested around the room.

"Seriously. Spill it."

"I sold it."

"You sold it!?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You think this was cheap?" He asked, gesturing once again to the room.

"Wait, hold up. Are you telling me, that you sold your Bulova to accessorize a ...a sex dungeon?"

He laughed out loud. "Of course not! I don't expect you to submit to me and call me Daddy or come out here and do this again. This was just a one-time idea I had that I wanted to see through. And I wanted it to be with you." Then he added with a wink, "you were remarkable, by the way."

"So you....I don't get it," she stammered. Clearly she was getting frustrated.

"Do you know why I loved that watch?" He asked. "Because I love watches. But I'd never go out and spend that kind of money on something so frivolous. Nor will I ask anyone else to buy me a watch. They have to want to give it to me, as a gift. And somebody, once, decided I was fucking worth that. And they investigated what I like about watches. And they looked up reviews. And they picked the best one."

She donned an unmistakeably sour expression.

"Fact is, the person who picked it, yes, they're a piece of shit. And I don't give a fuck about them anymore. I love YOU. I saw how much my love for My Bulova bothered you, and when this idea struck me, I went all-in. This, this is my gift. To you."

She did not miss the sentiment but refused to give in.

"...a sex dungeon?"

"Well, on top of all this awesome STUFF, you can now say that I sold my most cherished memento from my marriage, to give you ONE orgasm." He smiled at his own joke.

Internally, she bawked at the idea of it being one orgasm.

"I cannot WAIT to use that!" She exclaimed.

"I bet you can't, you evil brat!"

"So, what, you just moved all your glass stuff outside or something?"

"No, I sold that too."

"WHAT!?!?"