Spit-Roasted on the Beach – The Quantum Slut, Chapter 27

Babes

Surprise: Sir“I need you to hurt me!” she said.Then she waited.I looked at Marta’s downcast head. As she was sitting on my lap, facing me, with my cock inside her and her arms around me, I grasped her arms and gently pulled them from behind me, then took her hands in mine, turning the palms up. I wanted to look at something I’d noticed earlier, but hadn’t paid much attention to.She tried to pull her arms away, but I held them firmly.There were puckered, white lines on both arms, parallel to her wrists, that looked like, and almost certainly were, scars, probably produced with a razor blade.“You self-harm,” I stated quietly.She flushed and started to struggle.“Stop it,” I said, dropping my voice even more, and speaking almost in a whisper.She stopped as if struck, and sagged, letting me hold her arms.“Yes,” she said in a bitter voice, “I self-harm. It’s such a neat little phrase.”She looked up, bitterness in her face. “There’s been no one to do it for me.” Her eyes had tears in them again.“And I am such a bitch, no, a cunt, an awful, hateful person, so consumed by my selfish need to know that I drive people away from me. I have no friends, most of my colleagues loathe me, as you so kindly noted. I live alone, with my work, my exercise, and my piano. It’s an empty, painful, lonely life, and I hate it!”She hung her head and looked down at her arms.“I hate me…”The vehemence in her voice was shocking.Then, in a voice I could barely hear, “… I should be dead.”I continued to hold onto her, then bent over and kissed her arms along the scars, first left arm, then right.I had no idea what to say, but knew I had to say something.“Marta, look at me, please.” She didn’t.“Marta, I can ask you, or I can order you, please look up.”There was a long pause. “Order me,” she whispered.My jaw muscles tightened. “Marta,” I said in a louder voice, “Look at me!”She looked up.“Everything you just said may have been true, but no longer. If you’ll allow me, I will show you that you are not a bitch, you are not awful, you are not hateful.“You are afraid, you are lonely, and you most definitely are in pain. But I will not allow that to continue! If you are truly as loathsome as you say, then I am just as loathsome because I admire you tremendously, and, as I said, I believe that I am falling in love with you.”I paused a long time, looking at her, looking into her eyes, and watching the tears roll steadily, unheeded, down her face. I don’t ever recall seeing someone so unhappy.I was trying to think, but thinking seemed impossible. I finally gave up, even though thinking had always been the way I cut through life. I decided I had to, just this once, forget thinking, and do what I wanted to do.“Will you marry me?”  Astonishment: MartaIt felt as if my heart stopped. I know my mouth dropped open. I just sat there, dumbfounded, completely at a loss of what to say.“A simple ‘yes’ will do,” he said gently.“You can’t be serious,” I eventually said. “I don’t even know your name. I know nothing about you. You might still be a stalker, or an axe murderer, or a rapist, or…”“Or none of those things. And if you think you should be dead, do any of those things matter? But I’m not any of those things. I believe – I hope – that I am someone who can help you become you a person you can love, just as I hope you are the person who can make me whole.“Marta Maria Esteban Rabinovich, will you marry me?” Many Voices: SirMy heart was racing. What the fuck was I doing? I barely knew this woman, and she didn’t know me. What if she decided I was one of those fools she didn’t suffer gladly? What if she thought I was intellectually beneath her. What if she got bored with me, or didn’t like the way I lived, or thought I was just almanbahis trying to exploit her?What if she just doesn’t like me?Meanwhile, she sat there gawking at me. That, at least, I could fix.I leaned forward and said, “Kiss me. That’s not a request, that’s an order.”She closed her mouth, then smiled and leaned forward, tears streaming down her face, and kissed me. It started slowly, then progressed to something much more rugged, and before I knew it, I had rolled her onto her back, uncrossed my legs, and was pushing hard inside her as she was pulling me in with her legs behind my back, and we were making rough, urgent, passionate love.We had left The Well-Spring.…Later, we lay cuddled together, with her head on my shoulder.“May I take some time to answer?” She asked, “or are you ordering me to decide right now?”“Marta, I think you should wait before you decide. There are many things you need to know about me, things that may be important to you. But let that wait, if you will.”We were quiet for a time. Then she said, “I don’t know quite how to say this, or even why I want to, but I need you to hurt me even more now than I did before. As if I need to prove to you that I deserve to be punished. As if I won’t be worthy of you if you don’t punish me.“And – forgive me – but I get wet whenever I even think about you hurting me.”Now I was quiet. And then, “And when you said that, my cock let me know that it wanted me to hurt you, it thought that was a great idea. At the same time, the part of me that just asked you to marry me felt ashamed, as if I were besmirching this person I admire so much.”“So, am I sick, are you sick, or are we both sick?” she asked.I chuckled, and said, “Neither one of us is sick. You’ve heard about the BDSM spectrum?”She nodded, “But I don’t know much about it. I haven’t had sex in many years, and it was never very good for me. You call me a slut, and you make me feel like one – which I like! – but truthfully, sex doesn’t appeal to me.”I looked down at her and quirked an eyebrow. She had the grace to blush.“Correction: It didn’t appeal to me. Now I find that I can’t stop thinking about your cock…”She reached over and gently put her hand around my stiffening phallus.“… and at the same time, feeling an overwhelming desire for pain, as if the two feelings are intertwined. I find it – confusing. Disturbing. As if there are two people within me.”“There are at least two people, and probably more inside that brilliant little head of yours,” I said.She put her chin on her hand that was resting on my chest and looked up quizzically at me.“We tend to think of the mind as unitary – just one thing – and we think of our daytime, ‘normal’ personality as being that one thing. Yet, we know, from direct experience, that it’s not that simple.“We know, for instance, that there is a subconscious that we can’t access directly. We know we have emotions that don’t dovetail neatly into a simple personality package, so we have conflicting emotions. And we have experienced different parts of the mind acting at the same time, often working against each other.“For instance, occasionally, when I’m eating, I’ll pick up a glass and raise it to my mouth, then turn my head at the same time, so that the glass either hits the top or side of my mouth, or doesn’t quite make it all the way to my mouth, so that I miss and spill some of the drink. Or sometimes, I’ll be walking from one room to another, think about something unrelated, pull the door open, then walk right into it, hitting my knee or my head.“I think this might be the right brain and left brain not being completely in synch with each other.“Or, have you ever been walking along a cliff, and have the thought pop into your almanbahis yeni giriş mind that you could just step off the edge, and found that thought almost irresistible, even as another part of your mind is shouting, ‘Bad idea! BAD IDEA!’“The same kinds of things are true with the way we think about our desires, pleasure and pain. For instance, after we’ve made love – or fucked – I find myself thinking, ‘I’d love to force her to suck and lick the cum off my cock, to degrade her, and embarrass her.’ And I simultaneously find that shocking – which somehow makes it even more attractive. It’s weird, almost like two or more people talking to me at the same time.“That’s what you’re experiencing. There is more than one person – or personality – inside your head. Count on it.”She got a faraway look in her eyes, then grinned, looked at me and said, “So, is that your long-winded, mansplaining way of giving yourself permission to get your rocks off by hurting me? Because you already have my permission to do exactly that. Hint, hint…”“Why you little slut!”She scrambled off the bed, giggling, and I raced after her……Later, we were talking more seriously.“Look, I know you want me to hurt you, but we need a safe word. Or words.”She sighed. “I don’t need you to stop. I want you to keep going.”Angrily I said, “This is serious, Marta. I have to be able to trust you to signal me to stop so I know I’m not going too far. I want to hurt you, but I don’t want to harm you. If you can’t do that, we can’t play, period.”“Fine. Let’s go with the traditional ‘red light’ if I really want you to stop. But don’t expect to hear it.”“Wanna bet? And say ‘yellow light’ if you want me to pause, or step out of role-playing to discuss what’s happening.”“And what do I say if I want more?” she asked.I snorted. “If you think you can take more, then say ‘green light.’ OK?”She nodded, with her eyes blandly innocent. “Green light. Got it.”I got even angrier, grabbed her chin and said, “Don’t screw around, Marta. This is important. I don’t know your tolerance for pain. I don’t know how sensitive or delicate you are. I’ve never done what I’m about to do to you to anyone else. If you won’t promise me you will use these signals if you need or want them, then we’re done here and you can go home.”She looked at me, then nodded. “I promise. If I need you to stop, I promise I’ll say so.” she paused, “But Sir, please believe me when I say that I want you to hurt me, to push me to the edge, to punish me. I don’t know why I need this, but…” she swallowed, “But I do.”Then she looked up and grinned, “And I’ll bet you the answer to your question that you can’t push me that far.”“No bet. But I’ll try.” And he grinned a nasty grin.She stared at him, wondering if this had really been a good move on her part. And she found she was suddenly wetter, much wetter. Preparations: SirI had too many plans and ideas in my head, all struggling to get out at the same time. I was used to coping with too much going on in my head at one time, though, and knew what to do, but what to do with Marta while I did it?Then I looked at her. “OK, slut, we’re going to start. Lie down, spread-eagled, on the bed again. This is going to take some preparation.” I stood up.She lay the towel down beneath her, then spread it out and moved cautiously around to get comfortable, spreading her arms and legs wide.I picked up the sleep mask and put it back over her eyes. “Now, I want you to play with yourself, including finger fucking your cunt, and massaging both your G-spot and your clit. I want you to get nice and hot and wet, I want you to get as close as you can to climaxing, but you must not, under any circumstances, cum. Do you understand?”She had almanbahis giriş her legs spread, and although she blushed deeply, she was already starting to rub the fingers of one hand up and down her slit. I could see she was already quite wet.“Yes, Sir. Play with myself, but I am not to cum.”“Right. Now I have some preparations to make, and this will take some time, but you are not to stop, and you are not to cum. Get it?”She nodded slowly.Then I put my bathrobe on again and went off to my office, where I sat down, flipped open my laptop, and started to just dump my ideas onto the page of a word processing document, noting both things I might do, and a separate list of what things I would need to do them.Next, I edited and organized the notes into the best possible order to create a progression of pain, as near as I could imagine, and created a separate list of the equipment and materials I would need. I was improvising, because I only had one sex toy in the condo, a simple vibrator, and hadn’t planned this beforehand, but it was coming together quite nicely.This took almost fifteen minutes. I printed out both documents, picked up the equipment list, then started gathering things, some from the living room, many from the kitchen, and finally going to my locked office closet to retrieve Marta’s smartphone from her purse. Fortunately, she owned the same kind as I did, so I was familiar with how it worked.The phone would be the hard part as I was either going to have to ask for her login password, guess it myself, or go to plan B, which I didn’t want to do. I stood still, then decided to try to guess the six digits of her password. I thought for a moment, and tried the most obvious number (for a physicist), which didn’t work, then the second most obvious, which also didn’t work, then the third, which, thankfully, did the trick. I counted myself lucky, but also decided that I would have to teach her about cybersecurity.I looked at her settings to check how much storage space she had (bags of it!), then set up a separate album for the pictures I was going to take in her photo app, and finally, found, and hooked up, a small, Bluetooth device from my office that would allow me to control the camera remotely, without having to touch the smartphone. Next, I made sure that the camera would make the click sound when it was triggered. I wanted her to hear it when the camera took a picture.Finally, I moved and set up a card table next to the bed, trying not to be distracted by Marta’s growing moans, and making no effort to cover the sounds of my preparations. I wanted her to wonder what the hell I was doing.Once I organized things on the card table and nightstand by my bed, I got out a tripod that I sometimes used with my smartphone, put it on a bench that I dragged in from the living room to the foot of the bed, and set up the camera so it had a clear, full-length view of her as she was finger fucking herself. I also changed the settings so the phone wouldn’t go to sleep on its own.I got down, then took a deep, slightly ragged breath, and looked around, mentally rehearsing what I was going to do, consulting my agenda, and hoping I hadn’t forgotten anything. Then I finally stopped and looked at Marta.Oh my! My prick, which had been distracted by all of my planning and organizing, now stiffened up. She was drop-dead gorgeous, and watching her lying there, writhing, naked, and masturbating, now using both hands, made me want to forget the whole thing and just fuck her.But I had promises to keep, as the poem goes… Action! MartaI was finding it really hard to concentrate.On the one hand, Sir went quiet for what seemed like an age, then started bustling around, moving things, dragging furniture, and clinking things together, all very mysterious. The blindfold prevented me from seeing what the hell he was doing, so I spent the time trying to figure out what going on from sound alone. It was driving me crazy.

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