December 8, 2009

Making A List

Posted in stories tagged at 7:05 pm by littlesubmissions

She blinked the crust from around her eyes as she poured a cup of coffee. He hopped on one foot, pulling on his shoes between large, hurried bites of toast. He dropped the plate in the sink and leaned in close to give her a peck on the cheek on his way out the door, stopping short when her free hand curled around his belt and jerked him in close. She bit down on his earlobe and growled through clenched teeth. “The car trunk has a couple of surprises. Don’t look, but as soon as you get home, I’m going to show you what they are.”

He winced and rolled his head, exposing his throat to ease the tension of her teeth biting into and pulling on his ear. There was a sharply exhaled “Yes ma’am,” and a warm flood of lust in his chest travelled downward.

Her teeth bit down harder, until he gasped. Low mumbled words rolled out of her clenched jaw. “Don’t worry, it’s something you’re afraid of, and something you want, and…” She let go of him and leaned back, took a sip of coffee. “And I’m going to ruin the surprise. Have a good day. I have to get moving.” They disentangled themselves from each other and started their days, her walking into the bedroom and rifling through the closet for clothes while he hopped down the stairs to the street.

His eyes fixed on the trunk of the car as he walked by, got inside, and pulled into traffic. He tilted an ear towards the back of the car, one finger jabbing the radio off so he could hear. A soft hiss of something sliding across the carpet and a thud as something else slapped into the side of the trunk when he made a right turn onto the highway. Two things then, at least, behind him. One heavy enough to move around, sturdy enough she wasn’t worried about it breaking when it hit the sides of the car. Something lighter, still heavy enough to move but soft enough it didn’t thud when it hit the edges of the trunk.

He floated through traffic in the slow lane, ignoring the cars around him. He was imagining a straight jacket, heavy canvas sliding across the short rough carpet, then pinning his arms across his chest while she forced his legs apart with her knees, slapped him across the face until stars flitted over his eyes, going to work on his cock and balls with short, precise strokes of a riding crop and then crushing the flesh against itself with clothespins. Warning him not to roll over, or she would start in on his ass with the belt, or whatever else the heavy rolling sound coming from the trunk was.

Visions of a heavy rubber truncheon filled his mind as he slowed down and moved onto the off ramp, the sound of something solid with mass and weight rolling around and bouncing in the trunk. Of her hand dangling the black tube in front of his face, telling him to kiss and lick it until it was shining with spit soaked lust. Of her hand rolling him over, of the wet smack of the heavy black truncheon and the feel of his own saliva splashing off his skin, the dull meaty thudding pain it forced into his muscle and the sounds of his own grunted torture and harsh breath in his ears. Of the sound of her quickening breath and gasps of excitement behind him, making him want to beg for just a little more pain than he thought he could stand.

His fingers twitched as he parked the car, thumbing across the trunk release on the keychain lightly. Looking at the back of the car over his shoulder as he walked to work. Wondering what she had put in there. Was it something they already owned, or had she bought something new? Had she been to the store, found something on the internet, or just dug out some forgotten implement of pain from the back of the closet? Borrowed something from a friend, or fashioned something she picked up at the mall into a spiked, ridged tool to grind into his flesh until he screamed and tears blocked out his vision?

The day went by in a blur, photocopier sounds turning into the hiss of thick, moving ropes and the rattle of every doorknob becoming heavy steel chain links clanking all around him. Long moments trying to imagine the sound of a leather hood blinding him, the clank of handcuffs biting into his wrists rattling when he hit the potholes, the hissing sound of straps to hard rubber gags sliding and shifting in the trunk then holding his mouth open while he drooled onto boots.

He couldn’t remember the ride home, just shivering with the long whispers and heavy cracks of whatever was in the trunk behind him. Visions of hard wooden paddles and rolling leather filling his head with each kinetic jostle of the car. His stomach clenched when he saw her already there, waiting for him on the steps, reading. He parallel parked while she marked her place, and skipped down the steps towards him. The metal edges of the keys cut burning lines into his hand as his fist clenched, and their breath quickened as they met at the back of the car.

Her fingers twisted in his hair, forcing him to look at the trunk as she hit the release on her keys and pulled it open. His eyes scanned the trunk, then looked across it again. “A flashlight and a notebook? You were fucking with me?”

She laughed and then shook her head. “Oh no, not yet.” She moved his head back around and smashed her lips tight into his, stepped into him and pushed until he was tight against the bumper of the car, her warm skin holding him hard against the steel lip of the trunk. “You’re going to get into the trunk, and we’re going to take a ride. By the time I get back, you will have a list of every single thing you thought might be in the trunk, and what you thought I’d do to you with it. And when we get back, I’m going to drag you upstairs by the hair, and you’re going to lick my boots while I go over the list, and then we’re going to start with my favorite.”

He shuddered and whimpered into her body while she felt tingling heat roll from her fingers down to her stomach and turn into electric jolts deep insider her. She shrugged. “Or your least favorite. It might even be the same thing.” She gave him one last lingering kiss then stepped back, rocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

He nodded and turned, scrambled awkwardly into the trunk, lay down on the short fibers of the carpet and put the flashlight and notebook in front of him. She smiled down, dropped a pencil on his side, and slammed the lid.

He flipped the flashlight on, wedged it awkwardly under one arm until it shined on the white pages of the notebook, thought back to the beginning of the warm anticipation and hot lust that started that morning, and began to make a list.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

10 Comments »

  1. Mike said,

    Oh, you are good, so good…..fine story. hot thoughts

    • littlesubmissions said,

      Gracias!

  2. Allie said,

    Couldn’t stop, and did not WANT to stop reading.
    Yummy.

    • littlesubmissions said,

      Excellent, my powers of mind control are growing… πŸ˜‰
      Thanks.

  3. alberto said,

    I can quote Mike: really good. I’ve seen the twist at the end coming, but it was even better than I expected. Good work. πŸ™‚

    • littlesubmissions said,

      Oh yeah, there’s always a twist… originally the ending was going to be a tiger jumped out and ate him, but I guess someone had sort of done that one already. Thanks for reading!

  4. Marijke said,

    Great story :).

    • littlesubmissions said,

      Thank you! πŸ™‚

  5. Wendy Blackheart said,

    That is a delightfully evil idea. *sigh* I wish I were able to drive, so I could drive someone around in the trunk!

    • littlesubmissions said,

      I’m betting a woman of your considerable talents and resources could find a chauffeur somewhere, if that would still work for you.

      Thank you, and please remember: No obstacles, only challenges.


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