Mary's boy

       “Jim, we’re through.” her cold voice said to me over the phone.

       “Baby, please, I know we can work it out, I know if I just try harder…”

       “That’s just the problem, Jim.  You try too damn hard.  All you ever do is want to please me.”

       I swallowed with sadness and frustration, as I was about to lose yet another girlfriend, who was telling me all the same things I’d heard from the last…several.

       “Why is that such a problem?” I squeaked.

       “It’s annoying.” Cindy snapped, and I sighed.  “You’re constantly trying to guess at what I want and then you do things that just get in my way, like that episode on Thursday with the flowers.”

       “You said you’d always wanted flowers when you came home from a trip…”
       “Not a business trip.”

       I sighed.

       “I don’t understand.” I said.

       “Of course you don’t.  You’re a man.”

       “If you would just tell me what you want, I could do it for you!” I shouted, utterly frustrated.

       “I want a man who can make his own decisions about how to treat me and not need to be told.  Jim, goodbye.”

       “Goodbye, Cindy.” I said softly, and I heard her end click, and I softly shut my cell phone shut. 

       I lowered my head and rested it on my folded arms on top of my kitchen table.  I tried to fight them, but stupid tears fell as I was rejected, yet again.  And then to make it worse, of course, I thought about the only girl I’d ever successfully been happy with, the one I could never see again, the one who’s love I’d thrown away like trash.  The girl next door.

       Here I was, head of engineering and design of a huge architectural firm in Chicago, making a six-figure annual salary, with a gorgeous penthouse suite in one of the buildings my company had designed, and all I wanted was to be, literally, back on the farm.  Not my farm, though.  Her farm.  Mary-Beth’s father’s farm.

       “Catch it, Georgy!”  Billy shouted as the baseball flew over the rock we used as third base.  Georgy ran but I was faster, bolting from the second-base bucket, around third, and to home just as Georgy reached the ball.

       “Score!”  Tim shouted, and my team cheered, while I glanced over to the split-rail fence that ran along Miller’s field, to see if she had been watching while I scored.  She grinned as she folded her arms over the top of the fence, letting her breasts get squished above them, accenting the fact that her t-shirt was cut just a little too low.  She grinned at me.  I smiled back.  All of the other kids in town speculated about it, but I had indeed seen those breasts, touched them, tasted them, and thinking about that now made me blush.

       “Okay, switch innings, bottom of the sixth!  Last inning, we all agreed, right?” Tim shouted, and I tore my attention back to the game.

       Our team got Georgy’s team out and the game was over, just in time for supper.

       All of our cell phones went off nearly at once, as all of our mothers called us home to dinner.  Technology had changed some things about farm life; how Mamma called you home to dinner was different than it had been in the old days; but the fact that our Mammas were calling us home, all at sundown, wasn’t any different at all.

       I went straight to Mary-Beth, her long brown hair braided down her back.

       “You gonna help me with my chores, boy?” she said sternly, but softly, so no one else could hear.

       “Just look at Jimmy run on over to her.” Georgy taunted.

       “Like a fricken’ puppy.”

       “Why don’t you grow some balls, Jimmy, and show her who’s boss?”

       I only blushed heavily, hiding my face from my friends as Mary-Beth shouted over my head at them.

       “You all are just jealous you’re not good enough for a fine lady like me!”

       The rest of the team laughed at the boys who had been making fun of me, and then their voices faded as they all walked up the road.  It was undisputed that Mary-Beth was fine, one of the girls who made the short list of hotties that lived in our town.  Our high school had a whopping three hundred  students in it, leaving us with seventy or so kids in our own grade, whom we had all known since we were born, except for Taylor Henry who had moved here in the fifth grade.  And five years later, we still called him ‘new kid’. 

       I felt her finger lift up my chin so I looked into her gorgeous blue eyes.

       “You know I already called your mom to tell her you were having dinner at my house.”

       No matter how frequently I was blessed enough to gaze into her dazzling eyes, I still found it impossible to tear my eyes away once she had me in them.

       “Yes, Ma’am.” I said softly, and she smiled and ran the fingernail of her thumb down my cheek.  I grew goose bumps on my skin.

       “You like that, don’t you?  Just the idea that I might scratch you?” she said, her voice smooth and sweet.

       I breathed heavily.

       “Yes, Ma’am.” I said, my voice shaky.  She smiled.

       “Don’t you worry; I promise I will hurt you.” she said, venom in her breath, and I felt myself grow hard even as a feeling of dread settled in my stomach.

       “Come on, we don’t have all night. Daddy comes back from town at nine.” 

       This was our routine, every day.  Mary-Beth’s mother had died of leukemia when Mary was just four years old.  Her father had raised her but hadn’t the heart to take care of their large farm without Mary’s mother.  So he’d sold most of it and kept only a few acres for himself, small enough for just him and Mary to take care of, and they lived off of the interest from the land he’d sold, with the help of a job he’d gotten in town at the grocer’s.  Whatever money they made from selling their meager produce they grew went into a savings account for Mary to go to college someday.  That was the plan, anyway.

         “Muck the cow stalls, boy.” she said as we set food onto her land. 

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       Of course, the entire town knew that we were together.  Something like that was impossible to hide.  My mother let me go over and have dinner with Mary to “keep her company”, as it was phrased, and this was allowed because “Mary was lonely”, since she was all by herself while her father was in town.  Her father allowed it because I was the sole, only boy Mary had ever been interested in.  And he wanted to make sure she was “taken care of”, and I “wasn’t half bad of a kid”. 

       Of course, if any of them knew what really went on between us, we’d probably never be allowed to see each other again.

       I smiled to myself even as I raked the cow manure out of Moby’s stall.  Mary had named the cow after a whale, because she was just so fat.  Of course it stank, and of course I got it all over myself, though I was fairly good at it after years of practice.  When I was finished I hauled the wheel-barrow around to behind the barn and dumped the manure into the compost heap.  I then thoroughly washed my hands in the outdoor sink, the freezing cold water causing my fingers to go numb in the fading light.

       I brought Moby some fresh hay, spread feed down for the chickens, tidied up the wood pile and did a number of other menial tasks that I saw needed doing.  I went back inside and milked Moby, and then set the bucket of fresh milk on the back porch.

       I then stood still, folded my hands in front of myself, and waited.

       Of course she made me wait.  She always did.  But I knew she was watching.

       So I didn’t move as the last of the sunlight left the sky.  I didn’t move as the mosquitoes came out and bit me; I didn’t move as the manure dried and caked on my coveralls, I didn’t move as my stomach growled from hunger, I didn’t move as my bladder became full.

       When finally, it was pitch black, she emerged from the back door, the screen creaking as she stepped out, wearing now a cutoff denim skirt that was too short, and a tight t-shirt that showed a liberal amount of her belly as she turned and shut the door.  Her delicious ass displayed before me, inches away, covered only in one layer of thin denim.  My mouth watered in anticipation.

       She turned around and smiled mischievously at me.  My cock grew warm, even as I told it not to, not yet.  My eyes could not help but fall to her delicious nipples, who’s shape poked through the pink cloth of her shirt as she wore no bra.  Her hand lashed out and grabbed my hardening cock through my jeans.  I was always amazed at how she knew exactly where it was, every time.

       “Piss.” she demanded, and my face flushed with embarrassment and heat as my body obeyed her command.  We had, in essence, been practicing this for years, though the exact way we did it now was fairly new.  I felt the hot liquid soak the front of my pants and then spread down my right leg, and I grunted as she squeezed my cock harder and laughed.

       “Such a dirty boy.” she said.  “I love how you’re dirty.  Do you like being dirty for me, boy?” she whispered, her voice silk to my ears.

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       “Are you hungry?”

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       “Go in your stable and I’ll bring you dinner.”

       I nodded, dropped to all fours, and walked towards the barn, my ass high in the air as the gravel dug into my palms.  She laughed, gave me a whack on the ass with her palm, and then I heard the screen door of the house slam closed as she went to get my dinner.

       I walked into the barn, past Moby, past the horses, and down to the last stall, which was empty but for straw.  I crawled inside, turned around, and sat up on my knees, head down, and did not move.

       Mary liked things the way she liked them, just so, and no different.  I had been her boy since we were in elementary school, ever since we’d gone fishing together alone, by accident, as Todd and Megan were supposed to come with us but got themselves grounded instead.

       We’d fished all afternoon and had caught a few nice ones for ourselves.

       “Oh, I have to pee!” she’d said, stomping her twelve-year-old foot as she crossed her arms.

       “So pee in the creek.” I said.

       “Eww, gross.” she replied.  “I’m not a boy; I can’t do that!”

       “Naw, all the girls do it; just wade in until you’re deeper than your waist and pee.  Nobody sees anything.  Besides, you’re already wet from swimming.”

       She turned to me with that vicious gaze that seemed to only be reserved for me.

       “If I pee, you have to pee.”

       I shrugged.  I could go.

       “Sure.”

       A mischievous grin spread across her lips.

       “I get to watch you do it.” she said.  I’d peed a million times in front of her.  We went everywhere together.

       “Okay.” I said.

       Her grin grew wider.

       “You have to take your pants down to do it.”

       I blushed.  And, for some reason, the idea of arguing with this never, ever crossed my mind.  I still don’t know why.  I don’t think she knew, either; but somehow, she knew that I would not say no.

       “Okay.” I said. And then, I hadn’t even waited.  My hands had gone up to the button, up to the fly, and had pulled down my pants and underpants to my ankles.  The need to please her was compulsive.  I’d never felt something like that before.  She just had seemed so upset about having to go, and I just wanted to make her feel better.

       The next time we went fishing, she demanded that she get to hold my dick while I went.  The time after that, she made me drink water beforehand and then told me to hold it for a very long time.  The time after that, she told me to piss with my pants still on.  And her face, her voice, the pleasure on her expression when I did as she wanted was intoxicating to me. 

       I was the one who suggested that I wait until her hand squeezed me to go.  And she had loved the idea.  She had smiled at me.  And then she had kissed me.
       After that, I was hers. I went everywhere she told me to; I did everything she said.

       “Come over and water my garden after school, boy.” she’d say.

       “Yes, Ma’am.” I’d reply, and I’d do just that, not seeing her at all as she would not come out of the house, but I knew she was watching me as I watered, because the next day she’d say something like, “Do it tomorrow with no shirt on.  I want to see your boy-ness.”

       And then I would, as I blushed the entire time, trying to glance up into the sun-glared windows of her house while I knew she watched me.

       Sometimes, she would open one and give me new directions.

       “Chop that firewood.  Carry those rocks.  Move that bucket.  Feed the chickens, milk the cow, wash my dog.”

       Even then, as I did all of these things for her, my ears burned with heat and my cock throbbed.

       “Boy,” she shouted from her bedroom window up on the second floor.  I raised my head from the trough I was filling with the hose to look up at her.  “Put the hose nozzle on your crotch and turn it on.”

       My eyes grew wide.

       “But it’s freezing cold!”

       Her pout was devastating to me.

       “Yes, Ma’am, please don’t get upset!”

       I turned the hose and pressed it against my jeans as I winced.  I turned on the frigid water and yelped.  I heard her laughter; I heard her clap her hands with glee as I continued to keep the hose there, until she told me to remove it.  By the time she relented and said “Okay, boy, you can continue washing now,” I was numb.

       When I warmed up later, I was rigidly hard.

       

       Now, as I kneeled in my stall, covered in manure, awaiting her to torment me, I could only smile.  I thought of all the things that had led us up to this point.  Of hauling buckets of water in the hot sun with no shirt as she smacked my back with green branches, leaving red lashes on my skin, and then of her pinning me face-down on the grass as she kissed the lashes to make them better, over and over.  Of walking pants-less through the overgrown grass behind her house, seeds and bits of grass getting caught in my growing pubic hair as my cock and balls became itchy and irritated.  And then her rubbing soothing lotion all over my genitals, stroking my cock with her hands until I was ready to explode.  And of her laughing as she teased me, not letting me go off. 

       I heard the barn door creak.  I listened to her footsteps approach.  I stood up tall on my knees, my hardened cock trying to push through my pants, as her face appeared in my vision.

       “Here’s your dinner, dog.” she said, dropping a dog dish unceremoniously into the stall filled with cooked ground beef.  I whimpered like a puppy, since that was what she wanted, and lowered my head to eat out of the bowl with my face.  She leaned on the top of the gate with her arms, exactly as she’d done at the baseball field, and watched me as I got meat all over my nose, cheeks, and chin.

       When I finished, I raised back up onto my knees, my hands behind my back, and waited for her directions.

       “You are disgusting.”

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       “Do you like being disgusting?”

       “If it pleases you, Ma’am.”

       Her eyes sparkled.

       “What would you do for me, boy?”

       “Anything, Ma’am.”

       We gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment.

       “I know you mean that.” she whispered.  “That is why you are precious to me, boy.”

       My eyes teared with emotion.

       “Thank you, Ma’am.” I moved my lips to say something more, and then stopped myself.  Mary didn’t like me saying things unless she spoke to me, first.  Her eyebrows scrunched together.

       “What is it, boy?” she asked softly.  I licked my lips and forced myself to keep her gaze, though I suddenly felt nervous.

       “You are also precious to me.” I finally squeaked out.

       Her entire face became very soft.

       “I need to bathe you.” she said softly.  “Get in the dog tub.”

       I nodded and crawled out of the stall on all fours, travelling outside to the tub she used to wash her dogs in.  We had done this before, so I knew she wanted my clothes off.  I stripped myself, peeling the muddy, manure, sweat-covered clothes off and letting them drop into a heap as I crawled into the tub and stood on all fours.

       She came and turned on the hose, concentrating the pressure of it on my balls, and I gritted my teeth and whimpered in my best imitation of a dog.

       “Good boy, stand there and let me torture you.” she said.  “You know how I love to make you miserable.”

       I nodded, unsure of whether she wanted me to speak or remain in dog mode. 

       Once the tub was full of ice-cold water, she grabbed an old rag and a bar of soap and started to scrub me roughly.  She started with my shoulders, my stomach, my back, and though I shivered, it felt good to be getting clean.  She slid the rag down between my ass cheeks, spreading my legs as far as they could, causing pain in my knees as they crammed into the aluminum edges of the oval-shaped tub.  She scrubbed hard in my ass crack, then reached around and roughly scrubbed my balls and cock, too roughly, for far longer than necessary, as I shivered in the cold water as a breeze blew past.

       I then felt her slide something around my cock.  I looked down and saw a kitten collar, one made to go around a very small neck, and watched as she buckled it into place, too tightly, at the base of my cock.  She hooked a leash onto it and tugged upwards.  I stood and faced her, and her grin made my heart glow.

       “Now when you grow, it will hurt you.” she said sweetly.  She tugged on the leash and I stumbled out of the tub and followed her quickly.

       She walked over to hay barn, the pebbles from the path hurting my bare feet as she led me around to the door.  I inhaled deeply as we entered; the scent of fresh straw and hay reaching my nose as she led me across the floor to the center support beam.

       She had, probably yesterday, installed eye hooks into it.

       Which she clipped my new collar to and then tugged.  The leash suddenly shortened, and I realized I hadn’t gotten a good look at it…

       My ass became flush against the center support beam of the barn.

       She then pulled out of her pocket another collar and swiftly attached it around my neck.  She produced another leash, very short, and clipped me to what I supposed was another eyehook, behind the pole.  My head pressed against the wood.

       She walked back around, in front of me, her eyes gazing up and down my naked body, and she giggled as she stroked a finger on my cock.  It tried to harden and then I felt uncomfortable pressure at its base as the kitten collar restricted it.

       My heart pounded wildly.  She had never done this activity before.  I had no idea what was in store for me.  I couldn’t keep from grinning.

       “Why are you smiling, boy?” she asked, as she stroked my cock with one finger.  I sighed dreamily.

       “Because I don’t know what you have planned.” I said.  She smiled in return.

       “You certainly don’t.”

       She took a step and disappeared behind me again.

       Her hands reached around and grabbed my wrists, pulling them behind me, around the pole, where I felt her bind them with leather.

       When she returned, she held a riding crop in her hands.  With no warning or explanation, she  whacked it against my cock.

       I wasn’t prepared.  I screamed.

       “Yes!” she said.  “Make noise, boy!” she said with glee as she whacked me again.  Not only did I want to scream, but it also pleased her that I should, so I held nothing back as my voice echoed through the barn.  She whacked me a third time, then a fourth, and my screams and yelps came over and over, as tears came to my eyes.  She then changed angles and came up between my legs, whacking my balls.

       I tried to double over in pain and could not, as I choked myself.  She laughed.

       My penis was as hard as a rock, and I whimpered.

       “Look in my eyes, boy.” she said, and I forced myself to raise my gaze to her.

       “Do you like this?” she whispered, and my mouth contorted as I tried to find some truthful way to answer.  Did I like my balls and cock throbbing with pain?  No.  Did I like that her whacking them pleased her?  Yes.  Did I like to scream?  No.  Did I like that my screaming pleased her?  Yes.

       “I’m sorry, that was not a fair question, was it?” she said, as she saw my struggle to answer her.  “Let me ask you again.” she said.  “Will you let me do this to you tomorrow?”

       “Yes.” I said, without hesitation.

       “Why?”

       “To please you, Ma’am.”

       I felt her finger under my chin as she raised my face.  I was taller than her, but I still felt I needed her permission to raise my face sometimes…

       “Do you like to please me, boy?”

       I smiled.

       “Yes.”

       “Why?”

       I could see the depth of her need to that answer in her eyes.  And, when I was sixteen and in tenth grade, naked with the only girl I’d ever been intimate with, the answer to me was clear.

       “Because I love you.”

       Her eyes grew watery.  She reached down and unbuckled the collar around my cock.  It swelled and throbbed, and my eyes teared.  She walked around and untied my hands.

       She unhooked the leash that attached me to the pole and yanked on it, leading me to the loft ladder.  I followed, unquestioning, as I gazed at her delicious ass. 

       “Climb up.” she said, and I went, as she followed, heat pounding heavily in my chest as I forgot about my cock hurting.

       The hay loft was the only place where she would take her clothes off, and then she would torture me with her body, make me kiss her nipples while she twisted mine, make me give her orgasms with my fingers while she scraped my cock with her fingernails…

       “Lay there.” she said, pointing to the far wall, and I obeyed.

       She wrapped a rope around my wrist several times, then tied the other end securely to a rafter running along the wall.  She then did the same to my other wrist. 

       My feet she always secured to a long wooden plank that had gotten loose, forcing my legs apart and making it very difficult for me to move them.

       This time, after she tied me, she disappeared from my vision. I heard her rustling and when she came back into my sight, I could not believe what was before my eyes.

       She was naked.

       I could not help but stare.

       I had seen her breasts; played with them, teased them with my fingers, pleased them with my tongue.  I had seen her pussy; licked it clean and then made her orgasm as I drank in her cum.  But never had she been just plain naked, and back far enough so that I could actually see her.

       And for the first time in her life, since I had known her, she looked shy.  She blushed.

       “Jimmy, how much do you trust me?” she whispered, and I swallowed with terrible fear.  I could not recall her ever using my actual name before that point.  And here I was, bound, helpless, and naked, tied in her barn loft.  I gazed into her eyes.

       “With all my heart.”  I said.

       She moved until her body was over me.  My breathing grew rapid, my heart raced.  She slid her body up between my legs, stroking my cock with her chest, her stomach, her pussy, then continued sliding upwards until her delicious pussy was in my mouth and I knew what to do then.  I felt my cock grow rigid and pulse with heat as my tongue danced over her clitoris, making her gasp sharply or moan softly as she squeezed my head between her thighs.  When she orgasmed I felt her flesh pulse in my mouth, I tasted her delicious juices, and I was still reveling in the glow of having pleased her so much when she slid back down, her pussy hovering over my throat, my chest, my stomach, my…cock.

       She hovered over my cock.  She took it in her hand and lifted it up to her pussy. My heart raced with wild fire.

       When she had asked me if I trusted her, I had imagined horrible torture.  Not this.  This was…far scarier.  Far, far more frightening. 

       “Mary-Beth,” I said softly, as she ran her thumb over the tip of my cock, and I moaned.

       “How much do you trust me, Jimmy?” she whispered again.  I did not hesitate.

       “With all my heart.” I said. 

       “I never, ever ask you for anything.” she said.  “But I will ask you this, and you can say no.  Will you have sex with me?” she asked, not looking me in the eyes for perhaps the only time ever. 

       “How…how could I ever deny a chance to please you?” I said, and I saw a smile come to her lips, but she forced it away.

       “No, no.  You have to want this yourself.” she whispered.

       My heart flew wildly in my chest.

       “Of course I do.  Of course I want something that will make me closer to you, that will give you pleasure, that will make you happy, that will make me even more yours…”

       She turned her face to look at me.

       My cock was throbbing in her hand.

       “Are you saying yes?” she asked, and I worried at her insecurity.  I had to make her insecurity go away.  I had to make her feel whole, feel strong, feel happy!

       “Yes, yes!  Yes, yes, Mary-Beth.” I said. 

       She gazed at me, somehow, with wonder.

       She put me at the opening to her vagina and placed her thumb along my cock, guiding my tip inside her as she slowly sank down, slowly swallowing more and more of me as I felt her flesh stroke every inch of my penis, all sides, all at once, and everything I’d ever known before that became a tease.

       She winced and grunted.

       “Mary-Beth?” I asked.

       “Shhhh, boy, be quiet.”

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       She remained very still.

       Then she rose up, as slowly as she’d gone down, and I thought she was done.  She didn’t like it, it wasn’t what she expected, and she was leaving…

       She sank back down onto me again, more quickly, and I groaned as pleasure sang through my body.

       She rose up and sank down again.  And again, and again, ten or fifteen times, each time the pleasure rising to an intensity I’d never known.  I heard moans escape my lips; I had no control over them; I could do nothing about anything as she rose and fell.

       I had wanted to have sex with her to please her.  I had somehow not calculated how much it would please me, as well.  I had never felt such pleasure. 

       I rose my hips off of the loft floor and thrust.

       “Oh!” she cried out in surprise.  My eyes flew open wide.

       “I’m sorry!” I shouted.

       “What?  Do it again, boy!” she demanded, and my eyes darted back and forth in confusion for a second before I obeyed.  I pressed with my heels down against the plank they were tied to and thrust up into her again.

       “OH!” she said.  “Boy, do it more!”

       I thrust into her, over and over, as she hovered just above me, and I felt the pleasure rise in my cock as I felt the strain on my leg muscles.  This was impossibly hard work, but the pleasure drove me on.  I  paused to raise my knees, putting the plank flat on the floor, and then I had much better leverage.

       My thrusts were stronger.

       “Yes!” she cried.  “Harder!  Deeper!”

       I eagerly obeyed as sweat formed on my body as my heat was radiated back to me by the hay.  My eyes rolled back into my head as pressure built up inside me and then it exploded, in waves of passion and deliciousness, and I moaned deeply as I twitched inside of her.

       I collapsed onto the hay.  She remained sitting on top of me, and stroked my stomach with her fingers.

       “That was very, very, very delicious.” she said.

       “Yes.” I answered.  She smiled sweetly.

       “Boy.” she said, and I forced my eyes open to gaze at her dreamily.

       “Yes?”

       “Are you afraid?” she asked.  Afraid?

       I smiled.

       “No.”

       She frowned.

       “You’re not afraid that we might have made a baby?”

       That thought, for some reason, hadn’t crossed my mind until then.  I froze.

       “Wha…what?”

       “You hadn’t thought of it?”

       “What? No, no, I hadn’t, no, Mary-Beth, oh, no…I …I…”

       “Why not, boy?”

       I paused.  I was trying my damnedest not to panic.

       “I didn’t know you wanted one.”

       “I don’t.” she said, and my eyes darted back and forth with confusion.  “Then why…then why would you…um…”

       I was sixteen.  I knew the words I needed to have this conversation, but I didn’t have the courage to utter them.

       “Why didn’t I use protection?” she asked.

       “Yeah.” I replied, relieved that she had said the frightening words.

       “I did.” she answered.

       I collapsed onto the hay in relief.  She stared down at me.

       “But you didn’t know that.” she said softly.  “So why did you say yes?”

       I smiled as I finally saw where she was going.

       “Because I trusted you.” I said. 

       She lay down on top of me, her bare breasts pressed into my chest, her naked body laying across mine.

       “Yes, boy.” she said.  “You did.”

       That, of course, was always the point at which I stopped my remembrances.  Because that was the happiest moment in our relationship; that moment when we fully trusted each other.  Because, of course, just a bare few months later, I ruined it all, and I could never bear the memory of what I had done, until the day Cindy left me, and I was faced yet again with the ugliness of what I was.

       I stared down at the wood of the table and felt empty.  I tried to think of a reason to get up; I tried to think of something to do, anything, to distract myself.  Instead I remained where I was and folded my hands over the back of my head, burying it in my arms, and sobbed.  I had tried dating six different women in the past eight years; I’d been on countless dates and one-night-stands that had all led nowhere.  I had no problem picking up women; I had no problem getting first dates, and apparently I was very, very good in bed…so long as there was no intercourse.  Try as I might, no matter how much practice I had at it, I could not cum when I was on top.  I could do it from blowjobs or handjobs but not from intercourse.  Some women didn’t seem to care, but in the end none of them stuck around, and here I was, alone, again.

       I had slowly, over the eight years I’d been away from home, realized that there was only one woman I belonged with.  I had left town excited, ambitious, ready to take on the world, get a career, build a life for myself.  Which I had done.  At first, it had been fun.  It had been exciting.  I hadn’t even minded going through a few women in a row; that had been fun and exciting, too.  But slowly I began to feel more and more lonely.  I began to feel more and more empty.  Now, my fancy apartment and amazing job did almost nothing to chase the gray sadness in me, and I finally, reluctantly, painfully recalled why.

       “Jimmy, you never hang out with us anymore.”  Billy had said.  “You spend all your time with Mary-Beth.”

       I shrugged and smiled.

       “I like her.”

       He shook his head.

       “You’re whipped by her, man.”

       I froze in petrified terror.  Did he know?

       Billy laughed.

       “Seems you know it.” he said, and I relaxed.  No, he didn’t know.  He just meant it in the usual sense; that I would jump at her every whim.  Not that he was wrong, either.

       “I’m happy.” I said in our defense.  Billy shook his head.

       “Look, I’m sure the sex is great, but the way you are with her just isn’t healthy.” he’d said.  “A relationship is supposed to be the man in charge, or at least on equal footing.  It’s like she owns you.  You’re like her kid, almost, the way you do stuff for her when she tells you.  The town talks.”

       At first, I hadn’t thought I’d cared about Billy’s comments.  But as the weeks went by, my other friends started saying similar things.  They said it more than once.  And the idea that what Mary-Beth and I had wasn’t perfect, wasn’t right, planted it’s seed in my mind.

       I had never thought about it before that.  Things had just progressed to the state they were in since we were kids.  The idea that it could be wrong had never entered my brain.  I loved being with her.  She loved being with me.  We were happy, we were together, we would get married someday.  It just seemed natural.

       What plagued on my mind the most was that my friends didn’t even know.  They were talking, so strongly, about just the things they saw.  Yes, she gave me orders in public and yes, I jumped eagerly to complete her commands.  She led, I followed; if I was in town shopping people stopped assuming that I was sent by my mother and started assuming I was sent by Mary-Beth.  And that had made me feel good; it had made me feel proud to be known to be hers. 

       Now I knew that the town was talking.  And it irked me like a fleck of dust in my eye; no matter how I tried to ignore it, it wouldn’t go away.

       “What’s the matter, boy?” she asked me, when I was so preoccupied by these worries of “rightness” that I’d not responded to something she’d said.

       I swallowed.  I shook.  I screwed up my courage.

       “Do you think what we do is wrong, Mary-Beth?”

       She stared at me with her gorgeous blue eyes, from underneath the wide-brimmed straw hat she wore as we walked along a trail at the edge of her land.

       “What do you mean?” she asked softly.  I knew she had to have some inkling of what I’d meant; she would have heard the town talking, too.

       “People say bad things about us.”

       She looked on ahead, turning her face away from me.

       “I don’t care what people say.”

       I swallowed.

       “Billy says I should be focusing on a career, when I graduate high school.  Go to college, get a degree.”

       “In what?”

       I shrugged.

       “I’m very good at math; I thought I’d try engineering.”

       She remained silent for awhile.

       “Is that what you want, or just what Billy says?”

       Had I known that my entire relationship hinged on my answer to that question, I might have answered differently.

       “It’s what I want.”

       She stopped walking and stared at the trees.

       “I don’t need an engineer.  I need a farm boy.” she said quietly, staring out into the trees, not looking at me.  And for some reason, her statement had made me angry.

       “I don’t exist to just be what you need.  I’m not your…thing, that you own!  I want to have a life, too, get a job, have a career, be a man!  I’m not just yours, Mary-Beth.”

       She remained silent for awhile.

       “Are those your words, or Billy’s words?” she said softly, after a few minutes.

       “They’re my words.”

       She stared at the ground.

       “Fine.” was her reply, and we kept walking. But when we got back to her farm, she did not ask me to do any chores for her. 

       “Come to my room.” she said.

       I had never been in her room.  I followed her up the stairs nervously, my eyes tracing the pattern on the old, paisley wallpaper, as I tried to swallow my nerves.  She opened the door, and I saw her room.  She had a regular twin bed under the window, made with a brown and pink quilt on top.  There was an old, heavy wooden desk to the right, with our high school homework on it.  Next to that was a bookshelf, filled with books that spanned her interests from her entire lifetime, from baby books up to Shakespeare.  Some of the shelves had horses on them, some just cheap plastic toys, others expensive figurines.  Above that, on the highest shelf, in the place of honor, was every gift I’d ever given her.  Grass bracelets woven by the side of the fishing creek, a withered necklace of daisy flowers, a book about fairies I’d bought her for her eleventh birthday.  There was a stack of greeting cards, all from me, from every birthday and Christmas since we’d known each other.

       In the angry, defiant state I was in, I was too stupid to appreciate what that meant.

       She turned around to look at me.

       “Now, that we are inside, where no one is here but you and me, tell me what you want, Jimmy.”

       I swallowed.

       “I want to go to college…”

       “I don’t care about that.” I felt anger rise inside me.  “I care about the other thing you said.  That you and I are wrong.”

       If only I’d taken a few breaths to calm myself down.

       “Yeah.  What we do is…weird.  It’s…messed up.”

       Tears came to her eyes, but she fought them away.

       “You did not think that yesterday.” she said, her voice softer, weaker, than usual.  Her weakness gave me a feeling of power, as if I was winning some fight. 

       “Well I was stupid about it.  I was a dumb kid, playing games.  Life’s not a game; we can’t keep on doing this forever; at some point we have to grow up.  I mean, what did you think would happen; that I’d just move in one day and be your farm boy forever?”

       Her bottom lip quivered.

       “That was always what I thought.” she said softly.  She sat down on her bed and stared at the floor.

       “Well I want better for myself, Mary-Beth.  I want to be a whole, independent person, not just your boy.”

       She  bent down and buried her face in her hands.  I heard one, single, loud sob escape her lips, and that finally cracked me, just a little.

       “I’m sorry, I mean…”

       “Shut up.” she said.  “Go away.”

       I stared at her, dumbfounded.  She had never before told me to go away.

       “Mary-Beth…”

       “What I do with you is wrong; I’m wrong, my love for you is wrong, so go!  Go find your fancy life!” she shouted.

       I stared, dumbfounded.  And then, for some stupid reason, my anger still remained.

       “Fine.  I will.  Good luck with your farm.” I said, and I turned, and I left.

       These memories brought with them floods of tears.  I cried as if I had said all of this yesterday; the hurt was even fresher than I had remembered.  Of course, over time, as my anger had faded, and Billy’s influence left me as he went to his own college and we lost touch, the guilt of what I had done seeped in.  But some part of me had still been determined to prove myself right; that I could be happy, independent, confident, successful out in the world.  I had never been able to face Mary.  I hadn’t gone back home, not for a day, since I’d left.  The only people I’d kept in touch with were my parents, and they only saw me when they came to my apartment to visit.

       “Mary-Beth’s father was in a traffic accident.” Mom told me one time.  My heart wrenched with guilt.  I hid it.

       “Oh, well that’s unfortunate.” I said coldly.

       Mom shook her head.

       “I just thought you would care, since you two used to be so close.”

       “I care.  Of course I care.  I wish it didn’t happen.  Is he alright?”

       She shook her head.

       “They say he’ll never walk again.  He’s moved to the nursing home in Fallton.”

       More guilt tore at my heart.

       “You should go see her.” Mom said.  “It would mean everything to her.”

       The idea of facing her was too unbearable to think about.

       “No, I’m good.” I said.

       “Jimmy, I don’t know what happened between you two, but you really should try to make up…”

       “Mom, just stop.”

       And she had.  And I’d wallowed in guilt and misery for weeks…and then a lonliness crept in that would not go away.

       After I hung up the phone with Cindy, it all returned.  I thought about everything; my guilt, my lonliness, Billy’s words, my mother’s words, Mary-Beth’s face when I had told her I didn’t want her.

       It was nine-thirty at night.  I rose to my feet, grabbed my car keys and my wallet, and headed to the parking garage.  I can’t say that I made up my mind, because I wasn’t able to think much about it.  I turned south on the interstate and drove, past the city limits, past the edge of the state, on, for the six-hour drive it would be to get there.  All the things that had been keeping me away suddenly felt hollow.  Billy’s words felt empty.  My guilt wasn’t as strong as my crushing lonliness.  My shame wasn’t as much as my sorrow.  My pain wasn’t as much as my love.  I realized, as I drove, that the reason I still hurt was because I still loved her.  And I was pretty sure I was crazy. 

       What if she had another lover, living with her at home?  What if she rejected me, didn’t want to see me?  What if she grew angry, what if she slammed the door in my face? 

       My mind quieted as I turned onto Main street.  In eight years, a little had changed, but not too much.  The post-office had a new front.  The elementary school looked like it had added a few classrooms.  The playground was replaced with those plastic toys so kids don’t get hurt.

       I almost missed the turn down Mary’s road, because it was paved now.  It remained paved for a good mile before the car lurched onto the dirt gravel, and that was when my nerves started to go into overdrive.  This was crazy.  It was three-thirty in the morning, I hadn’t slept all night, I had no plan.

       I parked in the driveway, behind her father’s truck, and shut off the engine.  I looked at the clock.  Three-forty-five.  She would be up in an hour to milk Moby…if Moby was still alive.  I realized I didn’t know. 

       The farmhouse looked the same, though it was badly in need of paint.  Some shingles looked missing on the roof, too, and I could only imagine the length of the to-do list she must have had. I got out of the car and automatically started to walk to the back porch, when I stopped myself.  Guilt ate at me.  I had no right to wait on her back porch.  So I walked around front, and stood on the front porch, and fought sleep and exhaustion as I waited to see the lights go on inside.

       I saw the faint glow of the upstairs hall light shine down the stairs, and my heart beat faster.  She was there.  She was so close, right there.  My eyes teared.  I forced the tears away.

       I waited another twenty minutes as I imagined her brushing her teeth, braiding her hair, changing into work clothes.  I watched the bottom of the stairs through the window in the front door with heavy anticipation.  I saw a shadow move.  I saw the form of a woman appear on the first floor.

       I had only seconds before she’d go into the kitchen.  I knocked, and not timidly.

       I took a step back.  I heard the doorknob rattle, the door opened, and there she was.  Eight years older; she was a tiny bit taller than I remembered, her face had a few lines on it, her curves had filled out some more.  But her face was the same.  It was her face, my Mary’s face, and it took all of the strength I had to hold myself together.  She squinted in the dark, and then her face grew hard.

       “Jimmy Archer.” she said.  Her voice was cold, but it was the same.  “What the hell are you doing here?”

       All of the millions of thoughts that had been running through my head for the last few hours were an incomprehensible mush that I was at a loss to describe.  What could I possibly say?  In the middle of the night on a Wednesday I missed you?  In the middle of nowhere six miles from town, I was in the neighborhood?  I was wrong when I left you eight years ago, please take me back, oh, by the way are you single?

       “I…uh…noticed your house needs painting.” I said.  I kicked myself.  Great, my one chance with her and I blew it, forever.  Eight years of nothing, and that is what I said!

       She crossed her arms and looked down at me.

       “You know where the brushes are.” she said, and she slammed the door in my face.

       I stared at it as I slowly comprehended the conversation we’d just had.

       I had showed up on her porch before sunrise and asked to do a chore for her.

       And she had said yes.  Sort of.

       My heart beat with a little bit of hope as I walked towards the tool shed.  Even if this was all I got to do; even if when I was finished she kicked me off her land and told me to never come back, it at least was something.  It was at least some kind of apology; some kind of attempt to reconcile with her.  I opened the shed door and was greeted by the most familiar smell.  It hadn’t changed at all.  I turned on the light, and she was right.  I knew exactly where the brushes were.  And the paint, and the ladder. 

       I set up the ladder on the east side of the house, so the rising sun would provide light for me as I started.  I extended it to the very top and hooked on the painter’s belt I’d found, tested the ladder for sturdiness, and started to climb with the bucket of paint in one hand.  I had painted her house several times, and had painted my own just as many, so I knew exactly what I was doing.  I didn’t have to think much as I glided the brush over the siding, and my heart felt exceptionally full and whole as I heard the familiar sounds of the birds waking up. 

       I worked all through the morning, until the east side of the house was done.  I was starting to feel dizzy and faint, and knew I needed to at least eat, or climbing the ladder again would be stupid.  I shook as I walked around to the back porch, now, my clothes covered in white paint as I approached the back door.

       She opened it when I came near, almost as if she’d been watching me.

       She stared at me, saying nothing.  Her blue eyes were cold.

       “You don’t have to offer me anything, but I need a bite to eat before I go on.” I said.  “I can go into town to get a meal…”

       “You can eat here, Jimmy.” she said, and she turned to walk inside.  My heart lurched as I followed her in.  She offered me a plate of pancakes and sausages.  She placed it on the table.  I sat in the place offered to me.

       “Thank you.” I said.

       She didn’t reply.  She left, and disappeared upstairs.

       I finished eating and then went back to painting the house.  I painted the back next, because I knew she would be there, working, and I wanted to be near her.  I heard her hammering as she fixed the side of the barn, I heard her skill saw as she cut new planks, I heard her curse as something went wrong.  I concentrated on doing the best damn paint job I’d ever done.  I felt like it was everything.  I felt like if I could do it good enough, then I would be good enough for her.

       It took the rest of the day for me to finish the back of the house, and the sun was too far set for me to continue after that.  I saw Mary-Beth putting away her tools as well, and then I didn’t know what was going to happen.

       “Did you want to stay for dinner?” she asked.

       “Yes, Ma…Mary.” I said, and my blood grew cold as I realized I had very nearly called her Ma’am.  She stared at me for a moment, turned, and walked into the house.

       She pulled some leftover meatloaf out of the refridgerator and started to heat it up in the microwave. 

       “Are you in town, visiting your parents?” she asked, as she leaned against the counter, her arms crossed, reminding me of just how delicous her breasts were and I blushed.  I was angry at myself for having such thoughts.  Now was not the time for that!

       “No.” I said.  “I haven’t seen anyone.  No one in town knows I’m here.”

       She stared at me, hard, and I knew she was hiding emotions from her face, I could see it in her eyes.

       “When do you have to leave to be back at your job?”

       I hadn’t even called in sick to work that morning.  I’d already forgotton all about my job.  It seemed like a surreal dream; the farmhouse already was reality to me.  I did not want to leave.

       I shrugged.

       “Well, I should at least finish painting the house before I go.” I said. 

       Her eyes did water, then.

       “So you’ll be staying the night?”

       I squirmed uncomfortably in my chair.  This type of conversation was unfamiliar to me.  I wasn’t used to her asking questions!  She wasn’t going to just tell me to stay.  I was going to have to choose to stay.

       “If…” if it pleases you.  “If that’s okay with you.” I said.

       She nodded once, and the microwave beeped.  She turned to serve dinner and our conversation fell silent.  She ate with me, this time, but neither of us spoke.  I glanced at her, now and then, amazed at how much she’d changed and then at how much she hadn’t.  She was stronger, now; she had bulit muscles over the years, but she was curvier and sexier, too.  I forced myself to keep my thoughts chaste.  I would not consider the idea that we would ever be together again.  I just wanted her company.  I just wanted to apologize.

       “You can sleep in the spare room.” she said, as she led me upstairs later.

       “Yes Ma’…ry.” I said softly, and she quickly turned down the hall and slammed her bedroom door shut, very hard.

       I was exhausted and I fell right to sleep.

       The next day, I simply put on my now-paint-covered clothes and went back to painting.  She called me to breakfast, but we again had no conversation, though she was a little less cold at dinner.

       “I see you still have some cows.” I said, when I saw the buckets of fresh milk on the porch.

       “Yeah; Moby gave me two good calves before she died.” she said.  I heard a rustling and looked under the table to see an old black lab.

       “Hey, is that Charlie?” I asked, and she smiled.

       “Yep, that is.  Hey Charlie, old boy, want some scraps?”  He slowly wagged his tail as she dropped a bit of meatloaf on the floor for him.  I frowned.  When I had seen him last, he had been just three years old, energetic and frisky. 

       “You can stay the night, if you like, before you have to drive all the way back to the city.”

       I nodded and took a bite of my meatloaf.  I needed to stay.  I wanted to stay; but I had no reason to, now that the house was painted.  Unless…

       “Well, I noticed the roof needs a few shingles put on…”

       “The entire roof needs to be re-done.  I got the shingles from Harry’s for a discount, as a favor he owed my father, but that’s not some two-day project.  It’s going to take weeks.” she said, raising her eyes to look at me.

       “I know.” I replied, returning her gaze, not letting my nerves get the best of me as I hoped, with all my might, that this was not the last time I would be looking into her eyes.

       “Then I guess you should maybe get to sleep early, to get a good start in the morning.” she said.  It wasn’t phrased as a command, but I knew it was.  I could see that she was trying, with all of her might, not to give me any orders.  But she wanted to.  It felt natural.  It felt right.

       “Yes, Mary.” I replied, as if she had directed me, and I thought I saw her bottom lip quiver as I turned and left the table.

       The next morning the silence between us cracked a little more as we had much to discuss about the roof.

       “The worst leaks have been here and here.” she said, pointing as we walked across it.  “I’ve tried to replace the shingles but I think there are holes in the tar paper.  We’ll have to take off everything to get a good look at it.  Then we have to hurry; if it rains, we’ll be in trouble while the roof’s off.”

       “Yes, Mary.” I said, feeling good, feeling warm that I was helping her.  It chased away the guilt that she had been living with a leaky roof for who knew how long.  I worked all day.  The sun grew hot and I took of my shirt, sweat pouring off of me as I tore up the old shingles, one by one, trying to salvage any that were in good condition.  She came up and brought me water several times, insisting that I be careful not to faint.  I looked out over the farm and saw that it was only overgrown with weeds, except for a small vegetable garden that clearly needed weeding.  I watched Mary work as hard as I was at fixing the side of the barn, and knew that she worked this hard every day, yet the work still piled up.  It simply was too much work for one person.  A few tears fell, but I wiped them away as if they were sweat and kept working.

       “I found the leak over your dad’s old room.” I said at dinner a few nights later.  “You were right, the tar paper was rotted.  I’m going to replace it, but first I have to replace the insulation that got moldy there.”

       She nodded as she swallowed a bite of her spaghetti.

       “I have the side of the barn nearly finished, too.” she said, “…but I need a second person to hold the other side up while I hammer it in.”

       “Okay, we’ll do that tomorrow first.” I said, and for the first time in the two weeks I’d been there, she smiled.

       I yawned as I woke up and put on her father’s coveralls, over her father’s clothes.  She had told me to wear them; she had said it made her feel good to see them being used again.  I could see she was growing attached to me, and I could also see her fear that I was going to simply up and leave her again.  I had no idea how to tell her that I wouldn’t, except to keep on working, to keep on helping her, until she trusted that I was going to stay.

       “Okay, press against this part…hold it…hold it, now, shift it up!” she shouted through the other side of the wall we were sliding into place.  It snapped in.

       “Okay, now hold it up tight while I get the nails in!” she said.

       “Okay!” I shouted back, my muscles straining as I fought the wood, which was just a little curved and did not want to stay.  I heard her hammering and felt the wood shake as she drove the nails in.

       “Alright, that outta do it, you can let go, now!”

       “Okay!” I said, relieved as I relaxed my straining arms.

       “Jimmy, can you get the countersink?  I left it on the other side of the barn, on the floor somewhere.”

       “Yes, Mary.” I said, turning around and walking deeper into the barn.  I passed by the two new cows, and their stalls were not in disrepair; they were clean, the mucking clearly being kept up with, fresh hay looking like it was laid each day.  Same with the horses, and I smiled at the familiar smells of home as I reached the end of the barn.  I paused when I saw the last stall.  An empty stall; one that had clearly not been used in years.  My stall.  The straw laid there was clean, but clearly old.  She hadn’t ever put any animal in it.  Tears sprang to my eyes, and I stopped moving.

       When I didn’t come back, Mary stepped into the darkness of the barn, squinting.  She took a few steps in and then slowed as she saw what I was looking at.  She stood by my side.

       “I just had nothing to put in it, that’s all.” she said, and I hoped, with all my heart, that that was a lie.

       “You weren’t hoping I would come back?” I asked softly, putting my hand on the top of the gate.  I heard her sigh.

       “Yes, Jimmy, of course I hoped you would come back.  I…these last few weeks have been…really nice, having you here.”

       I turned to look at her.

       “I like being here.” I said.  Her eyes watered and spilled over, the cold exterior she had been putting up for the past two weeks melting away like nothing.

       “Oh, Jimmy, I hope you mean that, because I’ve been trying so hard, so hard to be different, to treat you like the man you want to be, asking you all the questions and for your opinion and not telling you to do anything because I don’t want you to think that I’m bossy;  I hope I’m making you happy because I’m trying as hard as I can, I would do anything if only you would stay!”

       She sobbed in front of me and I stared as my own eyes filled with water.

       “But all this time, I was trying so hard to make you happy, hoping you would let me stay.” I said softly.  “I would do anything to make you happy.”

       Her face grew angry.

       “Don’t!  Don’t you say that!  Don’t go saying anything you don’t mean!”

       Guilt tore at my heart.  She didn’t trust me.  I had up and left her for no good reason, of course she didn’t trust me. 

       “I’m not saying anything that I don’t mean.” I said quietly.  I reached out my hands, slowly, gently, and placed them on her shoulders.  I wanted to sweep her into my arms and hold her tight, with all my strength, but I was afraid she wouldn’t welcome such a gesture.  She turned her face away from me.

       “Mary-Beth,” I said, with as much sincerity as I had, “I’m sorry.”

       Her shoulders shook as she turned to face me, tears in her gorgeous eyes, tears that were my fault, tears that I caused. 

       “How do I know that you mean that?”

       I let go of her shoulders.  With courage that I didn’t know I had, I reached over and unlatched the gate to my stall.  It swung open easily, as if the hinges had regularly been oiled.  I took hope in that as I turned my back to her, stepped into it, turned around, and slowly sank to my knees on the old, dry straw.  I turned my face up to see intense emotion on her face as her lips quivered and tears streamed down.

       “Boy?” she said, her voice breaking, and I thought my heart would crack at the sound of her voice saying my name.  “Is that you?”

       “Yes, Ma’am.” I said, and then we both started to cry again. She looked into my eyes with intense fear and hope, and her lip quivered as the question that I dreaded, and yet was absolutely necessary, came from her lips.

       “Why did you leave me?”  It was barely a whisper. 

       “Because I was young and stupid.” I said.  “I had what I wanted but I didn’t know it until I ran out there in the world, and tried another kind of life, and saw how empty it was.  Mary-Beth, I never should have left you.  I’m more sorry than I can ever say.  I feel so lucky that you have let me stay even this long; I never thought you would take me back, I don’t deserve to be taken back, and yet I still beg for you to take me back.”

       I let my words hang in the air as she digested them, and I tried to will with all my might that she believe me.

       “I also am sorry.” she said quietly, as she looked down at me, her arms hanging loosely at her sides one moment, and her hands wringing themselves the next.  She was sorry?  What on earth could she possibly have to be sorry for?

       “I’m sorry for being so inflexible.  For not listening more carefully when you said you wanted to change things.  You had a right to go to college and to try a career and all of that.  That didn’t mean we had to break up.  I could have tried going with you, or at least visited you, or we should have talked about it better.  I should have listened to you.”

       I stared at her in wonder.  I had no idea what to say.

       “All I…all I…” I began, faltering.  My heart pounded with hope; hope that she still loved me, hope that she still wanted me.  I lowered my eyes to the floor. 

       “All I want is to be your boy.  I don’t care where.” I said softly.

       She came into the stall and threw her arms around me, squeezing me tightly.  I wrapped my arms around her and held her while we cried.  I felt her warm, strong arms, I felt her breasts pressed against my chest, I felt her heart beating in it.  I grew warm at her touch.  I chided myself, but her breath flowing across my neck turned me on.  I missed her. 

       I felt her brush her lips against my neck, and then a few seconds later, she planted a kiss there.  Then another, and then another.  Shudders of emotion sang through my heart as pleasure raced through my body.

       “Ma…Ma…Ma’am…” I stuttered, my ears flaming red, and she pulled back to look into my face.  She studied me for a moment and then crushed her lips on top of mine, and I pulled her close to me as I fervently kissed her in return, our lips eagerly coming together, our tongues desperate to search each other’s mouths.  She put her hands on my shoulders and pushed, and I fell with my back to the straw and moaned with heaven as she lay on top of me, my ass crushing my own feet in a way that was painful for my knees, and heat raced through my body.  My cock was hard.  And she pressed her crotch down onto it as she trapped my face in her hands.  I moaned deeply into her lips, and she pulled away.

       “How many women have you been with?” she asked, and I felt all of my blood drain away and leave me frigidly cold.

       “Um, um…” I froze as I realized I didn’t know the number off-hand.

       “That many, huh?” she asked, though her voice was a little teasing. 

       “I…I…if it helps,” I said,  “I could never cum inside any of them.”

       She laughed.  My heart sang at the sound of her laughter!  She rolled off of me and started to rub my hard penis through the outside of my jeans.  I moaned and tried to unfold my legs so that my feet weren’t crushed under my ass any longer.  She placed her other hand softly on top of my knee and my response to stop moving was automatic.  My knees ached from the way they were bent; but her touch was far more soothing, and I turned to butter as she ran her fingers up and down my cock through my jeans.

       “Of course you couldn’t!  Your brain and your heart might have been confused, but your little cock knows who it belongs to.” she said, and she reached up and whacked it with her open palm once.  I gasped and reflexively jerked my body at the mild pain, and then I lay still again.  I felt a rush of heat flow to my penis as she hurt it, because she owned it.  Because she wanted to own it!

       “Please, please, spank me again.” I said softly, and I saw excitement on her face as she brought down her palm again onto my hard lump, and a third time, and a fourth, spanking my cock with her palm over and over as a dull ache spread in me.  It felt so good to have her use me, it felt so good to have her claim me!  She wanted me, oh, she wanted me!

       “I feel you getting harder, boy.” she said, as she continued to hit my cock with her palm.

       “Yes, oh, yes.” I said.

       “Does that mean you like this?”

       “Oh, yes.” I said, without hesitation.  I loved it.  I loved it for a thousand reasons; it meant she wanted me, it meant I was good enough for her, it meant there was hope we could be together again, it was simply Mary-Beth, touching my cock with her hand. It felt good.  It hurt, but I liked it. 

       She reached up and unbuttoned my jeans.  My heart raced as she pulled down the zipper and slid her hand in underneath the elastic band of my boxer-briefs.  She fished out my cock until it’s head poked out of the top of my boxers.  She then pulled back the waistband of my boxer-briefs and let it snap back, snapping the tip of my cock with it.  I grunted, and she giggled with glee, even with tears still in her eyes.  She snapped it again and again and again, laughing with amusement as I grunted at the mild pain and could not erase the adoring smile on my face.

       “Boy, do you remember what your cock is for?” she asked me, and I smiled. 

       “For your pleasure and my torture.” I said, and she laughed as she snapped it one more time.

       “Yes!  Yes, yes, boy, oh I am going to do so many things to you!” she said, and she got up and disappeared from the stall.  I glowed as I lay on the straw and stared up at the barn roof, my heart shining with hope, my body pulsing with excitement.  For the first time since I had last been with her, I felt alive.

       She returned with rope in her hands and my heart pounded with fury.

       “Oh, yes, please…” I whispered, and for a moment her face turned sad.  She frowned.

       “I can’t tie you, boy.” she said.  “Because I don’t want to have you only because you can’t get away.”

       My heart cracked as she stepped over me and looped the rope around a hook in the back wall.  She lowered it down to my hands.

       “Open your palms.”

       I obeyed wordlessly.  I resigned myself to being completely compliant to her every wish.  I would put up no resistance at all, none; I would show her how deep my devotion and trust went.

       “Clasp.” she said, and I wrapped my fingers around the ropes firmly.  She stood up and tapped her foot a few times as she thought.

       “You can wrap it around your hands a few times to help you hold on, but you will not be tied.  You can get up and leave any time you want.” she said, her eyes still watering, and I was helpless to stop myself from crying like a girl, too.

       “I’m not going anywhere.” I whispered.

       “Yes, you say that.  But Jim, if you could leave, and you don’t, then I will know that you mean it.”

       I swallowed.  Her voice was starting to sound…threatening.

       “Yes, Ma’am.” I said.

       “You will call me Mary today, and I will call you Jim.”

       “No, please…”

       She glared at me.

       “Okay.” I replied.  I could see the ground we stood on was very, very shaky.  She was clearly happy to have me back; yet it was obvious she didn’t trust me at all.

       “Now I can’t help telling you what to do; it just happens.”

       I nodded.

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       I saw a smile prick the corner of her mouth, even though she tried to fight it.

       “And you can’t help saying yes, can you?”

       I shook my head.

       “No, Ma’am.”

       “Mary.”

       “Yes, Ma’am…Mary.”

       She burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help it, I laughed, too.  It relieved the tension between us and I sighed heavily as we calmed down.  I felt a little ridiculous with the tip of my cock still poking out under the elastic of my boxer shorts, and my cheeks flushed a little.

       “Jimmy, why did you come back here now, after all this time?” she asked softly, sinking to her knees beside me, as I still clasped the ropes firmly in my hands, as if I were drowning and they were saving me.

       “I would have come back sooner, but I was a coward.” I said, forcing myself to look into her dazzling blue eyes.  “It was only after…” I winced, but I knew I had to be truthful if she was ever going to trust me again… “My last girlfriend dumped me, the sixth in a row, that my loneliness for you became greater than my cowardice.” I said.  I shut my eyes, sure that would offend her, that she was just a rebound…

       Slap, across my face.  My cheek stung harshly; this was no dainty lady-slap, this was a working farm-woman slap.  I would certainly be bruised in the morning.        

       I slowly turned my face back to look at her and forced my eyes open.

       “You didn’t even call me when my father had his accident.”

       I stared at her with deep regret.  There was nothing I could say to make that right.

       “I know.  I’m more sorry than I can ever say.”

       She glared at me.

       “He and you are all I have!” she screamed.  “And you left me alone!”

       “Which I will never do again.” I said, unaware that such words were going to come out of my mouth, and then amazed at how my heart sang at the truth of them.  “I will do whatever it takes to make you trust me again, from now until the day I die.” I said, with deep conviction, and I knew it was true.  “I’ll make it right, Mary.  I’ll help you take care of your father; I’ll help you take care of the farm, and I’ll take care of you.”

       She gently leaned over and stroked my face, and I closed my eyes and sighed at her touch.  Her face was full of pain.

       “Even though my brain laughs at your lies,” she said, “my stupid heart believes you.”  and she kissed me, hard, crushing my head into the straw, and I clasped the ropes between my fingers as I felt her entire body cover me and my pulse pounded in my ears.  Though I certainly was strong enough to push something off of myself that had her equal weight, I was powerless to move her from on top of me.  I wanted her there too much;  I needed her so desperately, and the fact that I still had a chance gave me more hope than I’d ever dreamed of. 

       She pulled her lips away from mine and trailed them down my neck, kissing my skin slowly as she went, turning me on as I clasped the ropes and she reached the collar of my shirt.  Her fingers danced up to the topmost button and pushed it through the hole, and then they moved down, slowly, torturously unbuttoning my work shirt, revealing my bare chest as it was too hot to be wearing any sort of undershirt.  Her fingertips brushed my skin and my heart raced as my eyes traced up her chest, mesmerized by her dangling breasts that strained the cloth that bound them. 

       When she had my shirt open she lowered her lips to my collar bone and placed kisses across it, as I sighed with pleasure.  She slowly kissed down my chest, lower and lower, until she reached my stomach.  She kissed gently over to my side, a few inches above my hip, where my skin was the most ticklish and sensitive and then pain shot through my fog of pleasure. 

       I cried out, my hands automatically wanting to move to protect myself but I clasped the ropes firmly in my palms instead.  I looked down to see she had bitten the skin on my side, clasped between her teeth, and she left a trail of drool as she rose up and looked down at the indentations her teeth had left on my skin.

       “Now even if you run, you will know you were mine for weeks.” she said, letting her fingers dance over the bite mark, and then I knew what to do.

       “Mark me.” I said.

       “I just did, boy.”

       “No.” I turned my face to her and gave her my most sincere expression.  “Mark me permanently.”

       She gave me a hard, impenetrable stare, and did not blink for so long that I was sure I had made her angry beyond measure.

       “If you still want to be with me after what I am going to do to you tonight, we can talk about that later.”

       I swallowed nervously as she got up and left, and I did as she suggested and wrapped the rope around my hands a few times, to give myself a stronger grip.  I glanced down at my bare chest, my shirt hanging open at my sides, and the tip of my cock still poking out under the elastic of my boxer shorts, which were exposed by my fly being pulled all the way down.  My knees truly started aching, being bent the way they were, with my feet under my ass, which had the effect of offering my exposed tip a little higher up into the air.

        I knew I was in store for long, harsh, miserable torture, all of which I would have to bear voluntarily, unbound.  I could think of several reasons why she would do this, and all of them seemed justified to me.  One, she didn’t really believe that I was going to stay; she thought this was her last chance to ever be with me, so she wasn’t going to hold back; she was going to do everything she wanted in one shot to make sure she at least got the chance.  Two, she was angry, taking her revenge, inflicting upon me physically the eight years of misery she had suffered because of me, and I deserved such a punishment.  Or three: she did have some hope that I would stay, and she was testing me.  She was going to see if I really, really meant it, and she was going to put me through everything she could think of to see if I would truly endure it and still not leave her.

       It was probably a bit of all of those reasons.  As far as I was concerned, they were all justified, and I deserved whatever she was going to do to me.  I was going to prove myself to her; I emotionally welcomed the torture, because the more of it she dished out, the more I could take for her.  The more I could prove myself.  When we woke up in the morning and I was still there, still hers, she would know the depth of my love.

       When she returned, she had a large bag full of objects that clanked and rattled when she dropped it unceremoniously on the floor.  I heard metal clanking and then chains rattling as she pulled out a set of tiny metal wood clamps, used for holding models together.  I didn’t understand at first.  She put one in her hand and gently stroked the backs of her fingers up my side, to my right nipple, where she lay the clamp on its side and started to tighten it.  I felt the pressure build with each twist until it started to pinch uncomfortably, and I inhaled sharply but forced myself not to squirm.

       “Does it hurt?” she asked softly.

       “A little.”

       “Then that is not enough.” she said, and she tightened it further.  Each little tiny bit of a twist now increased my pain greatly, and I whimpered.  A crooked half-smile sprang to her lips.

       “Does it hurt now?”

       “Yes.” I said.

       She tightened it a little more.  I whimpered again, and she tightened it more until I was biting my lower lip with my teeth.

       “Please, that’s enough…” I said, terrified that any disagreeing with her would make her no longer want me…but it really was very painful…

       I felt a sting across my other nipple, and I cried out in surprise.

       At some point she’d grabbed a ruler, which she now smacked down onto my other nipple.

       “You tell me which you like more.” she said, smacking the end of the ruler on my unclamped nipple again.  I pulled hard on the ropes in my hands.  I bit my lip, struggling to remain as still as I could and to not flinch out of the way.

       “Whichever pleases you more.” I said.  She smacked my nipple again.

       “I like you in any kind of pain.  You can choose one over the other; it’s okay, go ahead, boy.”

       I swallowed.  My heart raced and my cock throbbed.  Her forcing me to make choices was about as horrible as her leaving me untied.  I didn’t care!  Anything she wanted to do to me was fine by me…as long as she wanted me!  But no; she was going to make me choose to bear it; she was going to make me choose my own torture.

       “Close your eyes and concentrate on how your nipples feel.  Tell me which one you like more.” she said again, her voice demanding, dripping with desire, making my blood race with want.  I did as directed.

       Smack.

       I yelped as the ruler came down on my left nipple.  It stung. My right one throbbed. 

       Smack.

       I jumped a little.

       Smack.

       I realized I wasn’t saying anything because I didn’t want her to stop smacking me.  It was hard to figure out why just at that moment, but later I discerned it was because it was active pain; pain she was causing to me, herself.  As long as I was being smacked, it meant she was there.  It meant she was willingly causing me to feel things; it meant she was wanting me in that moment.  The clamp had no such promise attached to it.  Of course, I knew none of this at that time.  I only knew I didn’t want the smacking to stop.

       “I like the ruler more.” I managed to squeak, and I heard her giggle, and my heart soared.  She was happy!

       I felt the smacking stop, and my heart sunk.  But then I felt the clamp being untwisted, and my heart raced, even as my nipple throbbed with soreness.

       I felt softness on my face.  I twitched.

       “Shhhh, I’m just blindfolding you.” she said.  I whimpered.  She gave a low, threatening laugh as her hands reached under my head and tied the cloth behind it.

       Then she was gone for a moment and I started to panic, and then

       Smack, across my right nipple, and it hurt so much more.  I yelped.

       “Oh, yes!” she said, and then smack and smack, across both nipples at once, and I cried out again.  “You’re not screaming loud enough; I guess I’m being too gentle.” she said, and she whacked harder but pulled back faster, making the sting greater on each of my nipples.  She started to whack me very quickly in succession, until my nipples started to feel like they were on fire.  They burned with heat and I started to sweat, pulling on the ropes wrapped around my hands and I wriggled, and felt my cock throb.

       Whack, across the tip of my cock.

       My hips jerked into the air and I cried out loudly, nearly losing my grip on the ropes as my hands wanted to protect myself.

       I heard her laugh, and then felt another whack on the tip of my exposed cock, and then another, and another.

       “Haha, yes, take it, boy!  Take the punishment you so rightly deserve, nothing but pain for your penis, all night, no pleasure for you, only pain!”

       At the promise of a night long of attention, my cock swelled.  Her whacking sent radiating stings down into my balls and up my abdomen, making me completely forget about my stinging nipples and aching knees.  I knew my eyes watered into the blindfold.

       She hit it very hard.  I screamed.  She laughed.

       “Yes!” she shouted, whacking the tip of my penis with the end of the ruler, laughing as I felt fire spread down my shaft and into every part of my balls and pelvis.

       “Does it hurt, boy?”

       “Yes, Ma’am!” I cried.

       “Do you want me to stop?”

       I knew the answer she wanted.

       “No, Ma’am!”

       “Why not?” she asked, continuing to whack me.

       “Because I want to please you, Ma’am!”

       “Do you like attention from me, boy?”

       Whack.

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       “Even if it’s pain?”

       Whack.

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       My eyes teared heavily into my blindfold now.  I wasn’t sure I could take much more.

       The whacking stopped.

       “Good boy.” she said, and I felt her fingers on the top of my jeans.  “Then let’s hurt the rest of your penis; the whole thing.” she said, and I whimpered as she started to pull down on my jeans.

       “Unfold your legs.” she commanded, and I obeyed, groaning as my knees throbbed at finally being able to unfold.

       “What’s the matter?” she asked.

       “My knees hurt.” I said.

       Whack, her hand slapping my cock, hard.  I whimpered.

       “Your what hurts?”

       “My cock hurts.” I tried again, and I could see her smiling in her mind’s eye as she tugged my pants down to my ankles, not bothering to take off my shoes or remove my pants all the way.  Though that technically wasn’t tying me, it restricted my movement quite a bit and I sighed with comfort.  I wanted to be tied; I wanted to be held down so that the torture I bore was inescapable, and therefore not my fault.

       Taking it voluntarily was far more miserable.

       “Please tie me.” I said.

       Whack, the ruler came down on my balls.  I screamed and pulled at the ropes that were wrapped around my palms.

       “No.  If you don’t like it, you can leave.” her harsh voice mocked.

       I groaned, knowing that I deserved this, yet wondering how I was going to take it.

       My cock throbbed.

       “Your little penis seems to be enjoying this.” she said, and she whacked my balls again.

       “Yes, Ma’am.” I said, and my heart soared as she spoke a sentence she had said to me so often, back when we were teenagers, and I felt whole hearing it.   I was home.

       I felt the cold metal of the clamp around my left nipple again, and the pressure increase as she tightened it.  I knew better than to complain.  I hissed as it became too tight, and then I squirmed and whimpered, the straw underneath me crackling and itching my bare ass a little.  She stopped and then I felt another clamp being tightened on my right nipple.  I did my best to stay still, but I still hissed when it became too tight.

       “Now you know how I love chains.” she said.

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       “But I can’t tie you to keep you from escaping; so I’ll have to just chain you to yourself.”

       I didn’t quite understand, but that was unimportant.

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       I felt the blindfold yanked off of my head.

       “Watch me.” she said, and I raised my head in obedience.

       She pulled out a roll of delicate, thin steel chain, perhaps dainty enough to be used for jewelry.  She pulled a short length of it off of the roll and cut it with pliers, then yanked on both ends to show me how strong it was.  She then dug around in the bag and pulled out safety pins, and I started to sweat a little with real fear.

       She lowered her eyes halfway and licked her lips, and my heart raced furiously with fear and desire.

       “I can see on your face already that you know what I’m going to do.” she said.  “But let’s get you ready, first.”

       My heart pounded and I squeaked.  What was she going to pin?  Obviously, the chain to something.  But to what?  There was nothing on me but my pants down by my ankles or my shirt underneath my back, and the clamps on my nipples. 

       I knew she was going to pierce my skin.  Fear prickled my spine at that idea, and then again and whatever “getting me ready” was going to be.

       She moved forward and opened the pin in front of my vision.  She slid it through the last of the small links at the end of the chain, which was perhaps a foot long, and then brought it down to the clamp on my left nipple.  She slid it through the small hole formed by my squished nipple and the base of the clamp, and clipped the safety pin closed.

       She then slid another pin in through the link at the other end of the chain and yanked on the chain towards my right nipple.  The chain was too short, so she had to pull both of my nipple clamps to make it reach, and I groaned as she clasped it closed, leaving the chain fully taught and tormenting me.

       “Beautiful.” she said.  “Very sexy.”

       I swallowed and panted.  Her hands then danced down my chest, down my stomach, and her fingers started to stroke my cock.  It pulsed in response, and I saw it turn purple-hard before my neck became tired and it collapsed, my head falling back onto the straw. 

       Her fingers closed around my cock and she started to stroke me.  I moaned with pleasure, and then pain danced through my nipples as she plucked the taught chain.  I cried out, and then she rubbed the tip of my cock with her thumb.

       “No pleasure without pain for you.  You’ll get lots of pain without pleasure, but no pleasure without pain.  Will you still stay?”

       “Yes, oh, yes.” I said, even as I whimpered when she plucked the chain again. 

       “Why?”

       “I’m yours.” I said.  “I want to be with you, I want to make you happy, no matter what it takes.” I said.

       She plucked the chain again and stroked me firmly.  My eyes watered and my lips moaned.

       “Do you like attention from me?” she asked sweetly.

       “Yes, oh, yes!”

       “Even if it hurts?”  her voice was like sugar.

       I closed my eyes at her delicious voice, saying delicious words.  My mind was swimming; I felt my mouth smile.

       “Yes, Mary-Beth.” I said softly.  My nipples screamed at me and my mouth reflected their complaint as my eyes flew open and I saw her twisting the chain around her finger, pulling the clamps tightly towards each other.  My cock throbbed in her hand and she squeezed it, very hard.  I gasped.  She laughed.

       “My cock, to hurt as I please.”

       “Yes, Mary-Beth.”

       She pinched the tip and twisted the skin, and I clasped the ropes wrapped around my hands and pulled on them, hard.

       “Please tie me.”

       “No.”

       She smacked my cock with her palm and got up.

       She reached into the bag and pulled out a riding crop.

       I did not clearly remember what a riding crop smacked against my balls felt like until that moment.  I screamed.  She laughed and hit me again, and again, over and over, and I writhed and twitched on the straw, my legs automatically jerking closed as she came down.  She stopped.

       “You are trying to avoid me.”

       “No!  No, no, I love your attention, please don’t stop.”

       She put her fingers on her chin as if in thought.

       “But you keep closing your legs, trying to keep your genitals protected.  That doesn’t work.”

       I panted heavily, the breath rushing in and out between my open lips. I gazed up at her gorgeous face, her beautiful eyes, her perfect fingers, her smooth, tanned arm.  I wanted her to own me.  I wanted her to use me; I wanted her to hurt me because it meant I was the object of her attention.  I was the thing that she was most interested in at that moment, and I wanted to keep it that way.  But my balls just did not want to be whacked; I couldn’t tell them to like it, I couldn’t tell them to want it.

       “Please, please tie me.” I begged.  “Tie my legs open for you; make me unable to move, so I can’t get away…”
       “No.”

       I whimpered and my heart jerked.  It was hard to forget that she didn’t trust me; it was hard to forget what I had done, when I remained free to simply get up and walk away.  And I knew that was her goal.  She did not want to let me forget so easily.  I deserved such punishment.

       “You will spread your legs and let me hurt you, of your own free will.”

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       The irony of her commanding this verbally did not escape me, but I said nothing else as I drew my ankles, still tangled in my pants, up closer to my crotch, spreading my knees farther from each other.

       I winced and flinched as the crop came down on my balls, and struggled with all of my strength to keep my knees from rising.

       I succeeded.

       She hit me again, and again, and again, until the fire burned in my testicles and I was sure they were bruised to hell; even though I knew she wouldn’t do that.  Or rather, old Mary wouldn’t have.  I hadn’t known her for eight years.  She might have changed.  I realized that I wasn’t a hundred percent sure that she wouldn’t really hurt me.  I swallowed as cold, unbridled fear shot through my veins and suddenly, I was turned off.

       My cock deflated.

       She stopped instantly.

       “What’s wrong?”

       The concern in her voice was deep.  I heard her fear.  I whimpered, beads of sweat falling into my eyes.

       How dare I try to tell her that I didn’t trust her, when I was the one who had betrayed her?

       “Boy!  I asked you a question!”

       I had no power to disobey.

       “I was afraid my balls will get bruised badly.” I squeaked.

       I didn’t have the courage to look into her face.  I felt her fingers clasp my chin firmly and she forced my head to turn to her.

       Her eyes were full of pain and compassion.

       “There has never been any doubt in this relationship about my love.” she spat.

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       Her eyes watered.

       “You are not tied; you are free to get up and leave; you are not the helpless one here.  I am.  I am because we both know where I stand.  I don’t have the strength to resist you, boy.  I don’t have the power to keep my heart from loving you or to keep my body from wanting you.  This makes me weak and vulnerable and it makes you impossibly safe.” she said, and I wanted to reach out and hold her tightly, then.

       “Mary, I love you just as much; I know my love is worthless but it has never faded in all this time.” I said.  “If you hadn’t come on to me this afternoon I still would have stayed, I would have continued fixing your roof and then after that I’d find another thing to repair…”

       My speech was cut off by a deep kiss from her, and I felt her breath wash over my face.

       Then my nipples screamed at me as she tugged on the chain and I cried out into her mouth.  She pulled back from the kiss but continued pulling up on the chain. I was amazed that the clamps didn’t tear my nipples off.

       “I have had other lovers since you left, too.” she said.  “I used them, I experimented on them, I learned from them.  I know quite a bit more about the human body than I did when you left, and you are going to know the broad range of my experience, boy.” she said.  “I promise you will wake up tomorrow covered in all kinds of marks, including that bite on your side that will be a nice, delicious, bruise.  But your balls, nor any other part of you, will not be permanently damaged.”

       “Yes, Ma’am.”  I squeaked, my cock already growing again at her words, at the promise of her attention, at a nightful of her attention…

       The crop came down on my cock and I forced my knees not to rise much, even though it surprised me.  She whacked my cock some more, and I knew in my mind it must not have been that hard- but it felt like she was using impossible strength. 

       Eventually, she released my nipple-chain and only whipped me, traveling up and down my shaft with her whacks for awhile, until she eventually settled to only whacking the tip.  My eyes poured water as my body jerked against the sensation, the rythmic bursts of pain shooting farther up my nerves each time until I swore my entire body tingled with fire.  I clasped the ropes with all my strength and kept my legs open with all my will, my teeth clasping themselves together as my screams dwindled to grunts, and my grunts started to sound like moans.

       The rhythm of the fire became mesmerizing.  I opened my eyes to see her gorgeous body effortlessly causing pain to sing through my every nerve, by way of my most private, sexual organ.  I saw enjoyment on her face as a smirk pulled up the corner of her lips; I saw her breasts jiggle in her tight shirt each time she lowered or raised her arm; I saw her gorgeous eyes transfixed to my penis; the thing who’s torture pleased her, as my eyes fell half closed and thoughts started to leave my brain.

       The whipping stopped, and so did the fire with it.  A burning need to be touched was left in it’s wake.

       “Please don’t stop.” I whispered.  She laughed softly and lowered her lips to my extremely sensitive, burning penile tip.  I pulled hard on my ropes and my back arched at the sensation.  Helpless whimpers escaped my lips as she ran her soft, wet tongue over my tip.

       “Ohhhhh, ohhhh!” I cried.  She reached up between my legs and grabbed my balls firmly in her hand, and squeezed.  My body twitched and writhed against my will.

       “Ghaaaa!” I said, my voice shaking, as she clamped her teeth around the tip of my cock, pinching my skin there.  She laughed and started to lightly chew on it, squeezing my balls even harder.  My penis throbbed in her lips.

       She started to chew on the tip in a rythmic way, along with squeezing my balls.  Her tongue caressed the skin of my cock and I whimpered and moaned.  She reached up with her free hand and pulled on my nipple chain, and pain and pleasure surged through my body from all three places; nipples, cock, balls.  My eyes rolled into the back of my head, and a deep, soft laugh escaped her throat.

       The vibrations of her laughter sang through my cock and I moaned and arched my back.  I felt pressure rise and fall in my testicles along with her squeezing and my growing desire to want to cum.  Cylces of pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure, washed through me, erasing my thoughts, erasing my fears, erasing my guilt.

       All of the sensations stopped, and I whimpered.

       “Shhh…” she said gently, and I heard rustling, and felt cool wetness on the skin of my chest, a few inches under my left nipple.  “Trust me, boy.”

       Her voice was soothing and soft.

       I smelled rubbing alcohol.

       I felt a prick on my skin where the coolness had been, and then a sting as she slid the saftey pin into the shallowest part of my chest skin.  She slid the point back out again, pinching just a centemeter long bit of me, only just deep enough so that the needle was under my skin.  I whimpered as she slid the last link of another chain that I had somehow missed her cutting.  She clasped the pin closed and let it rest. 

       “Good boy.” she said, and my cock throbbed.  She reached down and stroked it.  I felt another cool, wet spot on the other side of my chest, a little lower than the first one.  My legs twitched, reminding me they were tangled in my pants.  My hands clasped the ropes wrapped around them.

       I felt another prick in my skin.   I whimpered.

       “Shhhhh...” she said softly.  “Trust me, boy.”

       Yes.

       I felt burning as the tip slid back out of me and I heard her slide the last link of a chain onto it as she clasped it closed.

       “So pretty.” she said, admiring me, with a second chain now draped across my naked chest. 

       I felt another wet, cool spot, on the side of my stomach.  I whimpered.

       “Shhhhh, quiet boy.” she said, and I breathed heavily.  I remained absolutely still as she worked, holding the rope in my hands as tightly as I could, unaware of the pain in my knuckles or the sweat forming on my forehead.  All I felt were her hands.  Her hands on my skin, her fingers, her touch, and the throbbing of my cock in response.  The thought that the barn was not the most sanitary place to do this did not cross my mind; the idea of what she was doing did not horrify me as it should have; I was not repulsed as I should have been.  No, oh, no, her fingers were delicate flowers, dancing over my skin, soothing, sweet, and delicious. 

       She wanted me.  She wanted me, and that was all I cared about.

       Mary-Beth worked slowly, gingerly, and carefully, as she set four chains draping over my stomach and chest, criss-crossed over each other.  I was almost starting to get used to it, I was even starting to relax, when I felt the wet coolness on the side of my cock.

       No, oh, no. one part of my mind thought, while yes, oh, yes sang through the other half.  The reasons why I thought these two separate things never formed in my mind; how afraid I was of her piercing my cock along with how good attention from her there would feel never entered my head.  Just that simultaneous no and yes, nothing more, and then I felt a firery pinch on the side of my penis.  I whimpered and squirmed quite a bit, even as I tried to force myself to stay still, because I knew I would pay dearly for any jerking motion on my part..  I felt metal chains jingle across my stomach.

       “Shhhh.” she whispered, and I obeyed her voice.  “You are mine, boy.  I see it on your face how mine you are.”

       Yes.

       I couldn’t find it in myself to speak, but there was no need.

       She slid the metal tip into the skin on the side of my cock, and I was powerless to stop her.  It was as shallow as it possibly could have been without the skin actually tearing; the metal could still be seen through my skin on the surface.  My body shook as fire and burning shot through me like electricity.  My fingers clasped the ropes until my knuckles turned white.  A strangled sound escaped my lips.  She slid the metal link on the end of a chain onto the pin and snapped it closed.

       “Good boy, letting me stick a pin in your cock.” she said.  I burned with fire and shook with pain.  I bit my lower lip harshly with my own teeth, and fear pricked my spine but it was overshadowed by my desire to be with her.

       Her entire gorgeous body stretched out over me, and I found myself wishing she would simply come down and crush me, covering me with herself, pressing me into the straw, not caring how the pins in my skin would hurt.

       Instead I felt leather wrap around my neck, and heard a buckle.

       “It’s my own belt, cut short to go around your neck.” she said, and I heard deep desire in her voice.  She stretched the chain that was pinned to my cock up, up crossing over my chest and stomach, up to the collar, where she attached it to the front of the collar.

       I heard her soft laughter.

       “Oh, you look delicious, you sexy thing, all pinned and chained.  Oh, I can’t wait to make this hurt.”

       My cock throbbed, which caused the pin in it to pull and sting. 

       I smelled more rubbing alcohol, and she laughed softly again.

       “Mmmm…can’t wait to hurt my boy.” she said softly, and I heard the deep desire in her voice and I smiled at it, even as the bottle tipped and poured rubbing alcohol onto the pins on my chest.  Stinging pain burned on my skin as she poured it all over me, my breath panting, my body shaking, my cock throbbing even as the fiery alcohol reached it, and I screamed.

       “Yes, boy, oh, yes!” she shouted, tears pouring down my face as I clasped those ropes with all I had, my legs involuntarily wanting to snap closed, and I felt her hands on my knees, forcing them to stay apart.  She shoved down, crushing my legs open on the straw, and I had no power to fight her.  My body shook with fire, and my chains jingled.  Once I was able to keep my legs open on my own her hands left and wrapped around the chains draped across my stomach.  She clasped them all in her fingers and pulled.  My skin and cock screamed at me.  My voice screamed into the barn.  Mary laughed with glee.

       “Boy, the sound of your screaming voice is making me so wet!” she said, but all I could do was pant as she pulled.  “I love to hurt you, oh, if you stay, you will have to go through so much worse than this!”

       All I could do was breathe heavily, panting in and out.  She yanked on the chains.  I screamed.  In retrospect, she had to have been very, very gentle, or my skin would surely have torn.  But it felt like harsh, rough yanks each time she pulled, my skin, my cock screaming at me as my voice screamed in response.  I kept looking down at myself, expecting to see blood, but there was not a drop.

       Eventually, slowly, my brain started to realize that it didn’t hurt as badly as I thought it did; not on my chest, anyway.  She continued to yank on the chains, causing strange sensations to flow through my body, and my screaming subsided and became strange whimpers and moans. 

       I felt her pour more alcohol onto the pin in my cock and I screamed again, and she waited, seemingly forever, as I suffered and yet throbbed with want and desire.

       Then I felt soothing lotion.  I felt her hand clasp underneath my shaft, wrapping nearly around it but leaving a gap in her fingers where the pin was.  She started to stroke me.  I groaned and my hips rose, despite the pain from the pin.  She shoved me down hard with the heel of her hand on my balls.  A strangled cry escaped my lips, and I struggled to keep my ass down on the straw as she stroked my cock again.

       She wrapped the chains in my chest in the fingers of her other hand and she pulled on them.  The sensations were strange.  It hurt, but it didn’t.  I could feel the control she had over my skin, pulling it at her will; yet I was not bound.  It did not matter; there was nothing that I could possibly have done to leave the position I was in.  I wanted to be there too much; I wanted to be owned and used by her too badly, and the stroking she was giving to my penis became hotter…

       Want surged through me.  I felt my cum building, pulsing to the surface.  I moaned deeply.  Her stroking stopped.

       Painful pressure in my penis made me gasp.  My eyes flew open and I whimpered.  Speech was lost to me.

       She laughed.  She knew what I was trying to say.

       “Okay, but it has to hurt.” she said.  I swallowed.

       She started to pump me with her hand, and I moaned as my eyes rolled into the back of my head, and it was easy to ignore the slight soreness from where the pin was.  Pleasure raced through me and I knew I was close.  I felt the heat rise.  I felt the pressure build.  I felt the pleasure start to surge…

       And then stop.  I whimpered, just like a dog, just like she used to have me do.

       She smiled.

       “Is my puppy in there, too?” she asked, and I saw her gorgeous eyes shining above me as I nodded. 

       She pulled away from me, all contact with her suddenly gone as she stood up and traced her eyes up and down my body, her hands on her hips.  I gazed up at her in adoration, the object of my affection, the center around which the world revolved.  She could have done anything to me.  I would not have resisted her.

       “Stand up, boy.” she said, and fear percolated through my veins even as my hands let go of the ropes that I had clung so dearly to.  I unwrapped them from around my palms and moved slowly, the weirdness of the chains and pins making movement feel very strange.  I winced as my motion pulled on the chain that connected my collar to my cock, and I moved even more carefully as I rose to my feet.

       She stepped out of the stall and opened the gate, pointing to the shut gate of the stall across from mine, which also was empty.

       “Put your hands there and bend over.”

       I obeyed, the chains in my chest now dangling like little silver vines as I shut my eyes and waited for the first crack of the crop on my ass.

       Instead, I felt a bar being shoved up against my lips.  I opened my eyes to see what looked like a horse bit, but it was made of rubber.

       “Open.”

       My mouth obeyed her as she pushed it into my mouth, pulling on leather straps that came off of both ends, tying them behind my head.  And then the crop came down, without warning, on my ass.  I gave a small scream and bit down hard on my gag, grateful for it as it was saving my bottom lip, which I was sure I had bruised from biting it.

       Wordlessly she spanked me, not making a sound with her voice, and I tried not to whimper.  There was nothing to be said; we both knew why I was being spanked, there was not a duration that would be appropriate for what I deserved, and so I would stand there and take it until she felt she was done.  With each crack, my body jerked, jiggling the chains that dangled from my skin, and I breathed heavily as the pain in my ass spread further.  My cock was impossibly hard and the pin in it was growing more sore, as the chain around my neck pulled at it each time she hit me and my body jerked.

       I bore twenty lashes, and then thirty, my fingers clutching the wood until they were white.  My whimpers grew louder and each lash became more unbearable as the fire spread far beyond my ass, into my stomach and balls and cock.  Tears streamed down my face and still I felt her relentless punishment, crack, on the right side, crack on the left.  Mary had always loved rhythm and she still used it now, but being able to predict when the blows would come only made my flinching worse.

       Finally, after forty lashes, she stopped.  I exhaled and panted heavily, my body shaking, my cock throbbing, even as it now felt incredibly sore.  She had not told me to move, so I stayed how I was.

       I felt Mary-Beth’s hands slide around my waist and down my pelvis.  I whimpered and squeezed my eyes shut as her fingers fluttered up my shaft to the pin that was in it.  She unclasped it and I yelped and then grit my teeth as she pulled it out.  She disappeared for a moment and then was back with a clean cloth in her hand, soaked in rubbing alcohol.  She wrapped it around my cock, and the holes where the pin had been burned.  I screamed and clamped down hard on my gag.

       “Now you will cum; I will milk you like a cow and you will provide.” she said, squeezing my shaft with the cloth and stroking me. 

       At first, all I could feel was the burning, but the holes truly were superficial and the pain faded.  I felt her squeezing; I felt her stroking, and then my body was moving along with hers, causing the chains to rattle as they hit each other, dangling below my chest.  I humped the cloth in her hand, groaning as the pleasure yet again rose and built up to the point of no return.

       My fingers clasped the wood of the gate and my teeth crushed the rubber in my mouth as heat gushed up and cum spurted out of me.  My entire body shook and the chains jingled as I desperately pushed into her hand, which she firmly pushed back with, giving me plenty of friction as the world swirled with pleasure around me. 

       I lost sight of where my cum went.  I lost the strength in my legs, I lost my balance and wobbled.

       Her arms were around me, guiding me back to my stall, helping me lay down on my back on the hay.  The world spun.  I glowed with fire and passion and my mind felt perfectly, sweetly empty.  I gazed at her in a daze as she pulled the other pins out of my chest.  She put painless, anti-bacterial cream on each set of holes, covering them with band-aids.  She did the same for my cock, which was already shrinking and felt sore when she touched it.  Lastly, she reached behind my head and untied the gag, leaving my face covered in drool when she pulled it out.  I did not move.  My ass burned, the dry straw irritating it.

       She left for a moment and then returned with a glass of water in her hand.  She knelt by my head and lifted it, holding the water to my lips.

       “Drink.”

       I obeyed her, still dazed, but the water felt good as I realized I was thirsty.  I gulped it down quickly.

       “Good boy.” she said softly, and I noticed that she had tears in her eyes.  The reality of the situation we were in slowly came back to me.  She was in pain; I had betrayed her.  In the moment, I had forgotten that.  Now it all came flowing back.  I sobbed.

       “Shhhh…” she said, stroking my hair as I rested my head back onto the straw.  “It’s okay, boy.” she said, though she cried softly herself.

       “Sorry, I’m sorry.” I said, and she covered my lips with her finger.

       “Right now, I know you are mine.” she said.  “We will see what you do when your mind comes back.”

       I reached out my arms, desperate to hold her, to show her I wasn’t going anywhere.  She leaned down and hugged me and I crushed her to my chest, putting my right palm on the back of her head.  I kissed her lips and she returned it sweetly, though her tears did not stop.

       “Now get up.” she said, pulling away from me, and I rose.  She walked out of the barn, leaving her bag and all of the toys, and I followed her wordlessly, naked, outside.  Somehow, the sun had set.  Somehow, it was night.  I could scarcely believe it had been that long. 

       I followed her, naked, my feet getting muddy as she led me up the porch.  She put out her hand and I stopped as she turned on the hose and sprayed my feet clean.  I lifted each one so she could wash the bottom, and wobbled a little.

       “Come on.” she said, and she led me into the house.  Through the familiar kitchen and the den that I knew so well, then up the stairs that I knew only in this life, from these few weeks I’d spent here.  I barely noticed that the sheets on my bed were fresh and clean as she lifted the covers and pointed for me to lie down.  I gratefully did so.  I felt softness, all around me, and sighed happily at it.  She covered me with soft blankets.  I sighed contentedly and gazed up at her.  She still had tears on her face.

       She leaned down and kissed my forehead.

       “No matter what happens tomorrow, this was wonderful.” she said softly, and then she left, and shut the light, and I was plunged into exhausted, restful sleep.

       I woke up early, the moment the sun rose and shined onto my face through the window.  I thought of rising to shut the curtains and then going back to bed, but then my stomach growled angrily and I realized I’d never eaten dinner.

       I sat up, still feeling a little light-headed.  I looked down at my body.  I had a bruise on my side in the shape of her teeth, my ass hurt no matter how I moved, and ten band-aids covered me in various places.  I smiled at them.  They reminded me.

       I stretched, yawned, did not get dressed, and walked down to the kitchen, where I started to make us breakfast.

       I was in the middle of frying up the third batch of pancakes when I saw her appear in the doorway.  I turned around and gave her the sweetest smile I could muster.  Her eyes watered.

       “You stayed.”

       I nodded and turned off the flame, then walked towards her. 

       “I love you.” I said, and she threw her arms around me, accenting the soreness in my body.  I held her close to me, her precious body pressed against my chest as she sobbed, and sobbed, and I stroked her hair.

       “I am so, so sorry.” I said softly.  She nuzzled her face into my shoulder.

       “Boy, you’re really back, aren’t you?”

       “To stay, Mary-Beth.”

       She sobbed awhile longer, until our stomachs grumbled.

       I served her breakfast, making sure she had everything she needed; orange juice, silverware, butter, syrup, cinnamon.  It felt good to serve her.  It felt good to do anything for her; it felt good to be with her.

       “I’m sorry if I was too harsh on you yesterday…” she began, but I put my finger over her lips.

       “I deserved it.”

       She shook her head.

       “No, I mean yes, you did, but that shouldn’t be a reason…”

       “You don’t need a reason to hurt me.  I’m your boy.  But you can have a reason, if you like.”

       She looked up at me with awe.

       “You’re really, really back.”

       I smiled.

       And she finally returned the smile, her bright happiness spreading across her face, giving my heart joy.

       “But what about all those things you said, what Billy said, about our relationship being unhealthy and being independent…” she began.

       “I am independent.  And I choose, with my independence, to be with you.”

       A small bit of her still didn’t look convinced.  Her eyes traced down my naked body and stopped on the hideous purple bruise she had left on me with her teeth.

       “I like it.” I said.  She bit her lower lip.

       “Jimmy, I did some research while you were away.”

       She said it as if I’d been gone for the weekend.  My heart fluttered with happiness.  This was going to work.  She was going to take me back!

       “Okay.” I said.

       “There are other people like us.”

       I nodded sheepishly.

       “I know.  I played around on the internet, too.”

       She smiled at me.

       “And even that wasn’t good enough for you, huh?”

       “No one else is good enough for me; only you, Ma’am.” I said, and she smiled brightly.

       “Perfect.” she said.  “So can I talk to you in our way, now?”

       I nodded.

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       She smiled again, her eyes bright, and my heart sang.

       “Good.  Then you will stay inside today and let your body rest.  Clean the house, make it nice in case we have company.”

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       “Do your parents know you’re here?”

       “No, Ma’am, no one knows I’m here.”

       I could see she loved that idea.

       “You realize, if you stay, the town is going to know we’re together again, eventually.”

       I held my head up proudly.

       “I would tell the town every one of our secrets, if you wanted me to; I am not afraid of them, now.”

       I could see the surprise on her face, and then her happiness.

       “No, we don’t need to do that.” she said, and I inwardly sighed with relief.  I would have done it; but I would have preferred not to.  “But you will stay on the farm and be my secret until I decide we’re telling everyone.”

       “Yes, Ma’am.” I said, as I started to clear the table and fill the sink full of soapy water.

       “Don’t get dressed today, either, boy.”

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       “And boy?”

       “Yes, Ma’am?”

       “No more pissing without my presence.”

       My heart fluttered and my cock stirred, which she saw.  She laughed.

       “Oh, I think I will keep you naked quite often; it is so easy to tell what you like.”

       I flushed, smiled, and went back to work.  She slapped my sore, red ass on her way out the door, my heart fluttered,  and my cock stirred again.

       The next few days went back to the way we’d been before, in that we spent from sunup till sundown working on the roof.  But everything that went on between us was different, now.  We both felt good.  We both felt right.

       “Take up these shingles, boy.”

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       “Don’t tear them; we need to re-use them.”

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       I was not allowed to wear a shirt, but this was fine with me since it was hot.  Given the choice, I wouldn’t have worn one anyway, but it made me feel good to know that it pleased Mary.

       She also insisted in slathering me with sunscreen each morning, while I was naked, from head to toe, and I relished in the sensation of her hands rubbing on every part of me.  She also asked me to put sunscreen on her, though I only got to do the parts of her neck and shoulders that her tank top left uncovered.  Touching her still made my face smile and my cock throb.  Most of all, though, my heart soared that she wanted me; that I once again made her happy.

       After my sunscreening she’d lead me, naked, by my cock, to the edge of where the corn used to grow.  It was just tall weeds, now, but still she would hold my dick while I peed, and she would kiss my shoulders, and giggle, and maybe tickle my stomach a bit.  Then I was allowed to put on pants and work boots, and we would start fixing the roof.

       It took us almost two weeks, and thankfully we didn’t have to face anything more than a few light drizzles.  We tried testing it by running the hose over the roof, but we wouldn’t really know if we’d been successful until the next rainstorm.  After that, we went back to fixing the barn.  I had to say, the house looked better than I had ever remembered it.  It made me feel proud and happy to see it.

       As promised, Mary had made my body rest that first day.  She kissed me, constantly, on all parts of me except my lips.  My shoulders, my arms, my neck, my forehead.  She giggled when she did so and sometimes she ruffled my hair, stroked my cheek, or tickled my sides.  I glowed at the attention from her.  She flirted like teenager in love, and I drooled like one.  But that was it; that night she put me to bed at ten without anything else.  I felt a little disappointed, but in a good kind of way.  I knew she would play with me again.  I just had to wait.

       I only had to wait until the very next night.  She waited until I was asleep and snuck into my room, where I was awakened to the touch of leather around my right ankle.  I jerked out of reflex but she already had it buckled, and tied to something.  My ankle went nowhere and I nearly fell off the bed in the dark, and I heard her laughing at me.

       “Get back up here.” she said, and the moment I was lying on my back she was sliding leather around my other ankle, more belts that she had cut short and buckled.  They were tied to something under the bed, though I couldn’t see what.

       She’d also buckled such cuffs around my wrists, which I could tell she wanted stretched out above my head, but I was far too tall and the bed way too short for that.  So I bent my knees for her, sliding my ass down the bed until she was able to attach my wrists to something under the bed at the top of it.  My bonds were tight so long as I kept my knees bent, and though I could have straightened my legs to loosen them and escape, that was the last thing I wanted to do.

       “Good boy.” she said, and my heart raced as she played with me in the dark, her fingers ever teasing, dancing towards my cock, brushing it through my pajama shorts, then leaving to tickle my legs or thighs.  I don’t know how long she did that for; it felt like hours, until I was so hard I was ready to explode.  She’d tease my nipples; she’d shoved my t-shirt up to my neck and would run her tongue over them, sometimes pinching them a little.  She licked every square inch of my chest and stomach and sides as I writhed under the tickling sensations, and she held me down on the bed with her hand over my cock, crushing it to my body as it throbbed.  At no point had she actually yet touched it; it was still hidden underneath my pajama shorts.

       “Please,” I finally squeaked out, after what I was sure was more than an hour of teasing, “Please touch my cock.”

       She gasped in the dark.

       “What a dirty thing to say!”

       She smacked my penis through my pajama shorts.  I bucked and yelped.  She laughed at hit me again.

       “You ought to be spanked for such dirty thoughts!”

       My pajama shorts were yanked down to my bent knees.  I felt something brush the tip of my cock and I automatically thrust towards it.  I felt her hand grab my shaft very firmly and squeeze, hard.  I whimpered.

       “I will have to teach this uncontrollable thing a lesson.” she said, and I felt thin rope being wrapped around my shaft, just under the  head.  Her hands left and slithered the rope down around my sides.  I did not need to be told to lift my torso up for her.  She slid the rope around and pulled it tight, tying my cock snug to my lower abdomen as she made a knot next to my side.  I pulsed with want.

       “I will teach you to have such inappropriate thoughts.” she said.

       Smack.

       Knowing it was coming did nothing to keep me from yelping as something wooden, probably a ruler, smacked my penis. Smack, smack, smack, smack.

       The sting radiated through me as she swung with the ruler parallel to my length, hitting nearly all of it at once, repeatedly, quickly.  I tensed the muscles in my arms and took great comfort in the fact that I was tied; though I still could have closed my knees together.  As if I had the power to resist anything she did.

       There was a break in her onslaught and I heard myself panting and became aware that tears were pouring from my eyes before the ruler smacked me again, this time perpendicular to my shaft, across a small part of it at a time.  She started at the base and whacked up higher and higher until she struck my tip and my whimpers became very loud, nearly screams, as the pain radiated further and further along my nerves, stretching out past my penis and balls and into my abdomen.  Then finally, she stopped.

       “Have your naughty boy parts learned their lesson?” she asked, and I felt her fingers slide up my thigh, making my balls twitch as she slid her hand up my solidly, rock-hard shaft.

       “No, they haven’t.” she said softly, her breath close to my throbbing skin.  “Your cock is very determined to get what it wants.” she said, and I felt her fingers massaging my tip, spreading precum that I hadn’t known was there down my shaft.  Her tongue touched my tip and I inhaled sharply as she sucked my still stinging cock into her mouth.

       She licked my tip and caressed me with her lips, soothingly, sweetly, and I could not keep myself from moaning.  She moved me further and further into her mouth, and then I heard a snip and the rope was gone, and then she was giving me a full-out blow job.  The want in me surged and I pulled at the bonds around my wrists.  I suddenly didn’t want her mouth around me.  I wanted my cock inside her, swallowed by her delicious vagina, embedded within her feminitiy.

       I knew better than to ask for it.  I knew better.  I knew I would pay.  Of course I asked.

       “Mary-Beth,” I said softly.

       “Mmm?” she asked, the vibrations of her voice singing down my shaft, causing me to moan.

       “Mary-Beth, I know I don’t deserve it and there’s nothing in the world that could make this question right, but I miss making love to you.”

       I fully expected to be bitten, or my balls smacked, but instead she moaned and sucked me deeper into her mouth, so that my eyes rolled back into my head and I nearly forgot how to speak.

       She slid me out of her mouth and I felt her weight as she sat down onto the bed.  Her fingers wrapped around my shaft and pulled down.  I moaned.  She giggled.

       “Oh, I own you so completely.” she said, as she started to pump my cock, and I could not disagree with her.  I felt it was too soon, too quickly that my cum spurted across my chest as I twitched with pleasure, pulling at the bonds on my wrists and ankles, my knees still bent.

       In the darkness, she kissed my lips once, then my forehead.

       “So fun to play with.” she whispered in my ear, and I knew I was smiling.  I already felt sleepy as she unbuckled my ankles.  She went to unbuckle my wrists.

       “Please leave them.” I said.

       “I can’t, boy.  I’m going to sleep in another room, and that would not be safe.”

       I whimpered like a baby.

       “Shhh, I know what to do.” she said, and I heard more snipping and then my arms were free- but I still had the cuffs around my wrists.

       “There, you can sleep with those on.”

       “Oh, thank you, Ma’am, thank you…”

       I felt her run her fingers through my hair.

       “Sleep now, my boy.” she said, and I nodded and curled onto my side and felt my cum drip down my stomach onto the bed.  I knew, from remembering how she used to be when we were teenagers, that she did not want me to clean any of it off of myself.  This was confirmed when she ran her finger through it, spreading it across my chest.

       “Delicious messy boy.” she said, and then she ran her fingers through my hair, rubbing the cum into it.  She hadn’t done that to me in eight years, and it felt so good to be with her again that I didn’t even feel grossed out, like I used to.  It just felt good.

       She opened the doorway and I could finally see for a moment as the light from the hall fell on her face.  I gazed up at her and saw adoration.  She smiled at me.

       “I’ve missed you, boy.” she said, and she shut the door before I could answer.

       

       Our life went on like that.  Mary would play with me one night, then tease me all the next day and give me nothing.  Then she would play with me the next night.  She was wonderfully, mercifully predictable and I found myself falling into a happy routine of tease, play, tease, play.  Of course, what play was varied considerably and I could never be too sure how it would go.  Some nights she played with me in my room.  Some nights, she dragged me out to the hay barn and tied me to the pole in the center; those nights hurt far more.  I was covered in marks; teeth marks, hickeys, rope burns, bruises.  None of it was quite as extreme as that first time, though I was given plenty of freezing cold baths outside.  I started to forget what a warm shower felt like.

       The farmhouse looked beautiful on the outside, and now the barn was starting to match it.  It had fresh paint, the gates were all new, we replaced the broken window.  My ass stung me each time I had to bend to milk the cows and it made my heart glow and my cock throb to remember why it stung.  She had me addicted to her, pain and pleasure, always mixed together, always delicious.

       About a month after she had pinned me in my old stall, I was in my room, already in a t-shirt and boxer shorts for sleeping when she walked in without knocking.

       “I want to check your boo-boos.” she said, lifting her arms in the air, indicating that this is what I should do.  I obeyed and she started to lift my shirt up over my head, but I was too tall.  I immediately lowered myself to my knees so she could finish removing my shirt.  She giggled.

       “Such a good boy, so thoughtful, so perfect.”

       I blushed.

       She then traced her palms down my arms, tickled my armpits, then let her hands come to my chest. 

       “Looks like you’re all better.” she said softly, her lips just shy of brushing my ear, which flamed red.  Of course she knew that already; I never wore a shirt and she knew the condition of the rest of my body every night anyway.

       “Yes, Ma’am.” I whispered, and she let her fingers dance lower, to my stomach, and lower, to the waistband of my boxers.  My fingers started to tingle from being up in the air; I didn’t care.  My penis was already betraying me.  Her eyes fell to it as she let her fingers dance over the cloth of my boxers.  She felt my lump and squeezed it with her fingers.  I could not help but moan.

       “Do you want me to touch you, boy?” she whispered.

       “Yes, please.” I said, my voice cracking, which made her giggle.

       “How lucky for you, that I want to touch you.”

       Her voice was menacing.  I swallowed.

       She snaked her other hand up into my hair, tangling her fingers in my locks, which she then pulled tight with a vice grip and forced my face to look up at her.  I could do nothing to diminish the adoring smile I wore on my face, and my heart raced as she covered my lips with hers with a deep, passionate kiss.  I moaned only from that, so when she started to stroke my cock with her palm through my boxers, I whimpered.  She pulled away from the kiss but continued to stroke me and clasp my hair as she gazed into my eyes.

       “Mine.” she said.

       “Yours.” I replied.

       Her smile was worth everything; her beautiful brown hair flowing over her shoulders, down and free, which was very rare for her.

       She tightened her grip on my hair, pulling it roughly by its roots as her blue eyes burned into mine.

       “Let’s go play in the barn, late into the night.” she said, her voice dripping with want, as she lowered her lips to my throat and started to kiss me.  I was helpless to move.

       “Yes,Ma’am.” I said weakly, and she yanked on my hair upwards, very hard.

       “Stand, boy.”

       I was already obeying, scrambling to my feet, as she dragged me into the hallway.

       “Stay.” she demanded, and she left me.  I dared not move.  She disappeared into her own bedroom, which I was facing away from, and I heard her open her dresser drawer and shuffle some objects around.

       Then I felt her hands sliding leather around my neck.  My heart raced with furious heat as she buckled her belt, shortened to be my collar, around my neck.  I moaned.

       “Do you like my collar around your neck?” she whispered, her lips brushing my ear as my knees grew weak.  I lost the ability to hold up my head as I closed my eyes and looked down at the floor.

       “Yes, Ma’am, very much.” I was able to whisper.  My mind tried to discern what this meant; this was new, she hadn’t put it on me since that first day.  I heard a click and then felt a tug on my collar.  I opened my eyes and saw the black leather leash in her hands as she walked forward, and I stepped quickly to catch up to her.  My cock was already swollen.  My heart raced and a stupid, goofy grin would not leave my face.  She laughed as she led me down the stairs, and it took me that long to notice that she’d changed her clothes.  She still wore jeans and a tank top, but these were clean and both seemed a bit too small for her.  A strip of her skin was revealed to me between her top and jeans as we walked down the stairs and I saw a bit of lacy black panties peeking out.  I nearly fell over.

       Whatever she had planned, at that point, I didn’t care.  I knew I was going to like probably most of it. 

       She led me through the kitchen and out the back door, and the chill in the night air made my bare chest prickle and my nipples grow hard.  She walked across the gravel easily in her sneakers and I had learned fairly well how to cross it with bare feet.  She didn’t go to the cow barn; she led me to the hay barn.  The one with the loft, the only place where she would ever remove her clothes.  I was panting heavily when we stepped inside.

       She led me to the right, not towards the center pole, but to the dark, shadowy corner, where many smaller support poles stood in a line, holding up the hay loft above us.  She stopped, turned, and walked around me so that I was in the corner and she faced me, her hair backlit by the single bulb that glowed far above us from the ceiling.

       “Take off your clothes, boy.” she said, and I obeyed, pulling down my boxers quickly and tossing them a few feet away, revealing my hard, dark red shaft.  Her lips turned up at the corners. 

       “I haven’t even touched you yet; that is all from anticipation.” she stated, and I only pulsed with more want.  Her green tank top was too low, and I saw a black, lacy bra poking out from under the cloth.  My mouth watered.

       “Tonight is going to be very special.” she said, and my heart raced.  I hoped against hope that she meant we would have sex. Finally; a month of being jerked off was nice but this was what I wanted.

       “You will pay a high price for it.” she said, and I earnestly, stuipidly, nodded.

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       From in the shadows I saw her pull out the bag of toys I’d become so familiar with.  Out of it she pulled my leather wrist and ankle restraints.  I smiled and remained still as she buckled them around me, and I shut my eyes, feeling the delicious sensation of her entrapping me, as I let her, as I had no ability to resist her.

       I heard clinking and opened my eyes to see her pulling long chains out from around the corner.  These were not delicate things; the links were an inch long, and I started to sweat even as I allowed her to clip the end of one to a loop of metal in my wrist restraint. 

       I closed my eyes again and just felt her work as the chain of my left wrist was clippd to an eyehook screwed into the side of the barn, and the chain of my right wrist was attached to a support pole, so that my arms were stretched straight out from my shoulders, spread as wide as they could go.  I already could not move anywhere; I could not bring my arms in closer to myself, I could not raise them or lower them more than a few inches.

       I felt the leather restraints buckle around my ankles.  She giggled, and I opened my eyes to see her below me, looking up.  I turned pale as I saw a strand of my precum had dripped, down onto her head as she was restraining me!

       “Such a dirty boy, can’t control his cock at all.” she said, tracing her fingers up the insides of my legs, tickling me until I twitched and she gave the skin of my shaft a pinch and a twist.  I grimaced.

       She finished restraining my ankles, forcing them to spread wide with the chains as she secured them to the same wall and pole my wrists were tied to, so that I was tied spread-eagle, though still standing.  I was now heavily off-balance and knew that at some point, probably soon, I would be relying fully on those chains to keep me upright.

       She then unhooked my leash and tossed it to the floor.

       “Don’t need that, now.” she said, though she left the collar on.  She stepped forward and started to trace her fingernails down my chest, then up it, then across my right arm to my wrist.  I shuddered and I heard her breath quicken.  She bit her lower lip and moaned.

       “Such a sexy sight, strong naked man, chained helpless spread before me.” she said softly, and my heart raced faster.

       She stepped close to me and wrapped her arms around my body, pressing her chest against mine, her soft breasts close against my skin, separated from me by only a thin tank top and a lacy black bra.  My cock was crushed to the outside of her jeans and I whimpered as she held me close, her lips by my ear.

       “I remember what you asked for, that first time when you came back.” she said.  “I will grant your wish; you’ve earned it.”

       I stiffened even as my heart raced and my cock throbbed, and I tried to remember out of all the promises I’d made her which one she was talking about.  I felt her tongue, then her teeth, on the lobe of my ear.  She gave me a little nip, and then started kissing my neck.  I was helpless as her lips traced down my skin, then across my shoulder, then across my left arm, too slowly, too teasingly.  She ran her toungue over the inside of my elbow and then down to my wrist, then back up again, then returned to kisses. 

       “Flex.” she said, when she got to my bicep, and I did, and she moaned as she licked my muscles.

       “Mmmm…oh, your body is so damn sexy, so hot, I can’t believe the delicious man you’ve become.” she said, as her lips traveled to my chest and I relaxed my arms again.  She tortured me with her slowness, as she moved to kiss my right arm, which I flexed as she came near.  She moaned.

       “Jimmy, you are so hot.” she said.  “I don’t think you realize the hold you have over me.”

       I had no idea how to answer that.  I knew she loved me; by then I trusted that she wanted me, but I had a hold over her?

       “You told me how you couldn’t cum inside another woman?” she said, her lips tracing down my chest, torturing me with conversation when she knew it was not what I wanted.  “Well I did not cum from fucking any other man.”

       Her lips caressed the tip of my cock as she said this and my blood rushed at the word fuck.  Hope surged through me again.  She meant it.  She was going to take me.  She was going to make me hers again.

       She bit down on my penis, hard.  I yelped loudly and then whimpered as I struggled against the chains that held me.  I fell back an inch or two, which was bad, because she only pulled me more with her teeth clamped around my shaft.  I struggled and shifted to regain my balance, but I could not.  She reached out and clasped my ass with both of her hands, pulling me forward, until I was able to stand properly again.  She sucked me in deeper into her mouth and bit again.  Then again, then again, moving up and down my shaft, closing her teeth around me, biting me up and down.  I struggled to remain still, and tried not to whimper too much.

       She then quickly stood, went to the bag, and pulled out a bullwhip.  My eyes grew wide.  She cracked it once in the air and it made a terrifying sound, and then she disappeared behind me. 

       My eyes teared at the very first crack across my back.  I held back my shout until the third, and then my voice betrayed me, echoing through the barn.

       “Screaming already?” she said, and I felt a fiery sting across my back, over and over, the sound of the whip as terrifying as the actual feeling was.  I tensed every muscle in my body and she giggled.

       “Yes, show me those delicious muscles; so strong, yet so helpless!” she said, and I glowed, even as I winced.  I could hear the pleasure in her voice.  I knew I was pleasing her.  I was making her happy, like she so deserved.  I flexed my muscles more for her and I heard her giggle with glee as the whip came down on my back again.  I bore ten lashes, then fifteen.   Then twenty before I started to really shake with pain.  Then I felt the sting lick across my ass, and I cried out.  It was still sore from the paddling she’d given me two days ago.  But her giggle echoed through the barn and I tried to stay still for her.

       “You take it so well!  Yes, boy, take it!”

       I had no reply.  I did not feel the desire to speak.  I had no choice in the matter; I couldn’t stop her if I’d wanted to…and I didn’t want to.  I wanted her to stop whipping me, but I did not want her to stop entirely.  She would do what she would do…

       The lashes stopped.  I realized I’d been holding my breath and I exhaled, then sobbed.  Then I saw her green tank top get tossed under my arm and land in front of me. 

       Her hands slid past my ears and to my face, where she wiped my tears with her thumbs.  She pressed her body against my back, causing the lashes to sting with her her bare stomach, her lace-covered breasts.  I moaned.

       “Such a good boy.  My boy.” she said, wrapping her arms around my stomach, caressing me with her hands.  She raised them to my chest and started to stroke my nipples.  My head fell back to rest on her shoulder, and she kissed my throat.

       “That was your first real whipping,” she said, her voice soothing, her breath delicious.  “How did you like it?”

       Like it?  I’d hated it, I’d…but her fingers teasing my nipples, her lips on my neck distracted me; her breasts pressed into my back erased my thoughts of how it stung.

       “Whatever pleases you, Ma’am.” I whispered, and she laughed softly as one of her hands dropped down, down, closer, closer, and she teased the base of my shaft, making me grow even more rigid.

       “Your cock says you liked it.”

       I let out a strangled sob which was cut short as she danced her fingers up to my tip and started to spread my precum over my penis.  She stroked me a few times, and then I felt her other hand sliding down my back, over my ass, and up between my legs as she firmly, but gently, took hold of my balls.

       I moaned.  I felt her smile.

       “Do you remember, Jimmy, the first time I ever touched your penis?”        

       I struggled to force my brain to focus enough for language.  I nodded.  Of course I remembered.

       “Tell me what it was like.”

       I immediately pulsed with desire and she giggled softly, her chin resting on my bare shoulder as she stroked my balls with one hand and my shaft with the other.

       “Amazing.” I said, and she tugged down on my balls a little, and I yelped.

       “I want details, boy.”

       I swallowed.

       “Tell me the story as if I wasn’t there; as if you were saying it to someone else.”

       “Yes, Ma’am.”  I said, even as she started to kiss my neck again, distracting me.

       “I was twelve and me and my friend Mary-Beth went fishing by the creek.  Last time we went she made me take my pants down to watch me pee…and I was hoping she’d do it again.  I wanted her to see me naked, even though it made me feel embarrassed.  And then she said this time, she was going to hold my dick while I peed…”

       Mary moved her hand to the exact way she’d held it that day; her fingers wrapped fully around my hard penis, which had been hard that day, too…        

       “Did you want her to do that?” Mary asked, her voice sweet.

       “Yes!  Yes, oh yes, I couldn’t believe my ears it was true…”

       “You weren’t embarrassed?”

       I faltered.

       “Yes, of course I was…I just…I liked that, I liked exposing myself for her, I liked her touching me, taking control of me…”

       My mouth faded as her stroking became serious pumping.  I knew she would not let me cum this early, and yet I could do nothing to stop myself from enjoying the pleasure that her hand caused. 

       “Do you still like that?”

       I knew she was toying with me and yet, I had to play along.

       “Yes, Mary-Beth.” I said, my voice shaking as the pressure and heat built up in my cock and I started to shake.  She stopped her pumping and I groaned.

       “Please don’t stop…”        

       Her body was gone from behind me.

       “You will close your eyes and not open them until I say.”

       She did not wait for my reply, she knew I would obey.  I heard her step under the chain that held my right wrist and knew she was in front of me, shirtless, and I was forbidden to open my eyes. 

       And then I felt the smack of her palm on my rigidly hard shaft.  I yelped.

       “Do you remember the first time I spanked your cock?” she asked, even as she brought her two hands together, clapping them with my cock between.  She smacked it, but it wasn’t tied like usual; after she left it remained free to bounce around.

       “Yes.” I said, my voice shaking, as she clapped my dick between her hands again.  I knew she wanted me to tell her about it.  “You had me tied to the pole in the middle, you used a riding crop, I wasn’t warned ahead of time I didn’t know it was coming, I screamed…”

       I said all of this between panting breaths as she continued to clap my cock between her palms.

       “You’re about to scream again.”

       That was my only warning as fire raced down my shaft from my tip and I couldn’t help it; my eyes flew open and I saw what looked like a little hairclip, with teeth, biting the tip of my penis…when she went to attach the second one, I reacted, and she looked up to see my eyes were open.

       I couldn’t stop my gaze from wandering down her bare shoulders, her scantily-clad breasts, covered in thin, lacy mesh, squished by the fabric…my cock swelled which made the homemade clamp, whatever it was, pinch me harder.

       “Bad boy.” she said, and she disappeared behind me.  I whimpered as I heard something  heavy being slid across the floor…

       I looked down to see a cinder block slide between my feet, solid side up, and I swallowed.

       She went back to her bag and retrieved soft, white, cotton rope.  She wordlessly walked up to me and started to wrap it around the base of my balls.  I whimpered.

       She took the length and easily wrapped it through the holes of the cinder block, and then pulled.  My balls ached as they were tugged downward.  My shoulders screamed as they tried to give in to let me lower my body, but they would not.  The chains were not like ropes.  They had no give.

       Mary unclipped the chains binding my ankles and I immediately brought my feet in closer to myself and put them under me, intending to stand.  The tug on my balls told me that was not happening.  I had to keep my knees bent; I had to stay in a crouch, and I knew I couldn’t do it for long.  The chains pulling my arms taught prevented me from sinking lower; the rope around my balls prevented me from raising higher; I could do nothing at all but stay exactly where I was, and my knees started to strain from being bent.

       I looked up at Mary with a pleading look.  She was watching me with her arms crossed in front of her chest, which squished her breasts up, increasing the cleavage between them…

       “You are only uncomfortable because you’ve moved from where I put you.  I am teaching you to listen to me.” she said, and I hung my head in shame as I spread my legs again, putting my feet back where they had been.  When I spread them, there was room for my knees to straighten, I could support my body with them instead of with my shoulders, and the tug on my balls became lessened.

       “Now isn’t that better?” she asked, and I nodded.  She smiled and reached into her bag.  More of those evil, pinching clamps came out.  These had loops on the end.

       “I bought these just for you.” she said, approaching me and I saw they had little screws on the side…

       She opened one and placed it over my left nipple.  I squirmed as she slowly screwed it shut, and the metal sides started to squeeze together.  At first it just stung; then the pain became pinching, then the pressure made me start to squirm.  She didn’t go as tight as last time.  She put her finger through the loop and gave a tug.  I yelped.  She grinned.

       She went and attached the other one to my left nipple.  Then she retrieved more chains from her bag, and I realized now why it clanked so much when she moved it.

       These were smaller than the ones that held my wrists in place.  Only quarter-inch links; they would weigh far less…

       They still felt to weigh plenty as she clipped the end of one to the ring on my nipple clamp and walked towards the wall, where she tugged on it and I yelped, and she laughed as she attached it to the eyehook in the wall.

       She then unhooked the chain that held my arm and let it fall to the floor.  The weight of the chain forced my arm to fall to my side, but I felt relief as blood rushed back into it.

       She walked slowly, purposefully in front of me, swaying her hips as she passed to my right nipple and clipped on the thinner chain to that clamp.  She then winked at me as she walked to the support beam and seemed to measure which link to attach to the support pole.  She tugged a link tighter, pulling on the clamp on my chest, forcing me to want to move to the right…but as I did, the left one pulled tightly.  She pulled the chain another link shorter, than another, than another, until I yelped.

       “Okay, that’s the right one, then.” she said, and she tugged one more link tighter as I whimpered and attached that to the pole.

       She unhooked the chain that held my right arm and it fell limply to my side, weighed down by the chain attached to my wrist restraint.  I felt the blood rush back into my limbs even as the throbbing began in my nipples.  I still could not stand taller; the rope around my balls prevented me from doing so, and I could not move right, or left, or forward, or even downward without causing more severe pain to my nipples.  I was, will all four of my limbs free, still completely, helplessly bound.

       “That’s better.  Now, where was I?” she asked, putting her finger to her chin.  Her face brightened.  “Oh yeah!” she said, and she pulled more of those evil little clamps that looked like hairclips out of her bag.  She went straight to my dick with it, which was still amazingly hard.  She clipped the tiny, evil thing on to my tip.  I screamed and panted; Mary laughed. 

       “Yay!  I love making your penis hurt!” she said, and I grit my teeth as she attached a third one, and fire shot through straight into my balls.  She went for a fourth.

       “Please, not another one, please!” I cried, and she stopped.

       “Fine.  Kneel on the cinder block.”

       I gaped at her.

       “What?”

       “Do what I tell you, boy.”

       I swallowed nervously, awaiting the pain as either the nipple clamp chains or the ropes on my balls became too short.  I brought my right knee to the cinder block and set it down, and then slowly my left, and realized, to my amazement, that my level of pain did not increase.  The rope was exactly the right length; as were the chains, and I realized that Mary must have been planning this for a long time.  She must have measured me, measured the barn, the heights of the eye hooks, the height of the block.  I saw marks on the floor where my feet had been.  I looked up at her, and her eyes shone.

       “Do you know how long I’ve been dreaming of this?” she said, tracing her finger up my shaft to the three awful clamps that were there.  She flicked them.  I screamed. 

       “Good; I need you in a lot of pain for this.”

       I whimpered as I knelt on the cinder block, my arms heavy at my sides with chains, my nipples clamped tightly to walls much too far away for me to ever reach.  I realized I could free myself; I could, with much effort, drag my wrists to each other and unbuckle the restraints on them, and then free my nipples and cock from their torture.

       As if I wanted to do anything that would separate me from Mary-Beth.

       I watched her as she winked at me and turned her back to me.  Her hands went to the waist of her jeans, and she stood so her ass stuck out farther than it had to as time slowed down and she opened her zipper.  She turned to look at me and smiled as she slid the cloth down, over her ass, and revealed sexy black panties that showed off quite a bit of her ass, though it wasn’t exactly a thong.  Her jeans dropped to the floor; my cock swelled, causing the clamps on the end of it to pinch even more. 

       She stepped out of the  jeans and went to her bag of torture.  She bent over, exposing her ass for my viewing as she rummaged through it, and sweat formed on my forehead.  I wanted to touch it; I wanted to kiss it; and when I saw her breasts hanging down from my view of them between her legs, I moaned.

       She rose to her full height and turned around.  In her hand was another, smaller bag, like a make-up bag, pink and green.  I could not see what was in it.  I didn’t care as she walked up to me, directly to me, her breasts exactly at the height of my face as I knelt on the cinder block.  I heard a thud as she dropped the bag on the floor behind me, and then I stopped caring as she put her hands on the back of my head and crushed my face between her breasts.

       “Kiss them, boy.” she cooed, and I eagerly obeyed as her right nipple came into my mouth.  I did not want the cloth of her bra in my way, so I worked it down with my teeth and tongue until I was able to suck her delicious bare nipple into my mouth.  She giggled as she pressed the back of my head with her hands, keeping me close, as if I’d want to leave.  Her nipple felt amazing as I caressed it with my lips; in the nearly two months I had lived with her, I had not once seen Mary naked.

       She moaned with pleasure and I tried to move a little to get a better position, but my nipples screamed at me to remain still.  Eventually she moved, shifting so that her left nipple was in my mouth instead and I eagerly pleased that one for her, too.  I desperately wanted to hold her, and my arms were now rested, so I fought the chains and brought up my hands to her waist.  I put my palms on her bare skin and she giggled and twirled her fingers in my hair.

       She the lowered one of her hands to my cock and brushed the clamps.  I stopped moving and yelped loudly.

       “Put your hands back down, boy.” she said, and I obeyed, and went back to pleasing her nipples.

       “Mmmm…you have made me very, very wet now.” she whispered as she pulled away, leaving her nipples peeking out from the top of her lacy black bra, teasing me as my eyes wandered down her entire body.  They stopped on her panties, on which I could see a glistening spot forming on the outside of.  I moaned.

       She disappeared behind me, strumming my nipple chain as she ducked under it, and laughing as I groaned.

       She reached her arms around to my front and attached a fourth evil clamp to the tip of my penis.  I screamed and panted, and I heard her doing something as she waited for me to calm down.  I grit my teeth and shut my eyes and tried to focus on something else besides my burning, throbbing cock.

       I focused on her re-attaching the chains on my wrists to the eye-hooks, and I lifted my arms for her so she could make the chains tight.  I heard her stop behind my back again.

       I felt wet coolness on my back, from above my shoulder blade down to the middle, and then the smell of rubbing alcohol hit my nose.  Fear prickled me.

       “My boy will let me hurt him.” she said, her voice dripping with want, and the statement made my cock throb- which made the clamps cause it to burn.  I whimpered.

       “Yes, Ma’am.”

       I felt cool metal on my back. 

       “Flex for me, boy.”

       I obeyed; it was easy to want to tense all of my muscles.  She moaned.

       “Oh, yes, oh, you are so sexy, so hot…”

       Her voice was full of breath, as if she could barely speak.  I couldn’t recall her ever sounding so…helpless.

       The metal dragged down my skin, following the line she had made with the rubbing alcohol.  Stinging immediately followed and I felt blood starting to drip down my back.  Fear prickled me again, but she stopped much sooner than she had with the alcohol, and I heard a clank as she dropped whatever it was she’d been cutting me with.

       “Oh, yes…” she said, her voice barely a whisper, as I heard a thud behind me and felt the blood drip down my back.  I grew worried and tried to turn around to see, but I could not.  So I listened intensely, and I heard short, quick gasps and low, repetitive moans coming from her.  It was a long time ago, the memory was old, but I recognized the sounds of Mary-Beth’s orgasm.  I couldn’t believe it; the thought that cutting me like that had turned her on that much was mind-boggling.  My penis throbbed and I cried with frustration; I wanted to see her; I wanted to touch her.

       I heard a stronger moan come out of her and then her fingers were on my back, tracing around my cut.  I realized I should have worried how deep it was, how bad it was, but all I cared about at that moment was that she had just orgasmed.  She was that turned on.

       I felt her hand come up between my legs and clasp my cock.  It burned from the clips, and I yelped.  She laughed softly, then moaned.

       “Mine.” she said, her voice low, and she came around in front of me.  She unclasped the clamps on my penis and my eyes grew wide as I sighed.  I looked down at it; there were indentations and they would probably be sore, but no skin there was torn. 

       She unscrewed my nipple clamps.  I exhaled with great relief.  She untied my balls and my body ached as I stood up.  She unclipped the chains on my wrists, and I moaned as I was free, even as I was terrified that it was over.  Mary had orgasmed, and now she was releasing me, and my heart raced with fear that it was going to end.  She gave me a predatory gaze.

       “Mmmm…” she said, and she reached out, grabbed my cock, and pulled.  I followed her.  To the ladder.  To the loft; to the only place where she was ever naked.  My knees grew weak.

       “Up the ladder, boy.” she said, and I climbed eagerly ahead of her, knowing she was gazing up my legs at my balls as I went, my cheeks flushing with heat and anticipation. 

       The loft was cleaned of hay.  At first, I was disappointed, but then my eyes adjusted to the dim light.  There was an area rug thrown down instead, and on it there was a mattress.

       Above the mattress, on the ceiling a few feet away, were lots of eyehooks.  Bolted to the floor, next to it, were beams, also with eyehooks, and there was a beam across the bottom of it too, a few feet away.  I paused and stared.

       Mary’s fingers were on my back again, tracing just above the cut.  The blood had almost stopped dripping; I could feel the rivulets coagulating already, and knew she hadn’t cut me deeply at all.

       “Mary,” I whispered, and I heard a click, and she walked in front of me and tugged on my collar with the leash.  I followed eagerly.

       “Lay.” she demanded.  I obeyed, feeling the blood smearing on the new sheets.

       “Yes, boy, bleed on your new bed…”

       She looked weak in her knees, as if I was teasing her, as if I was touching her clit already. 

       She already had a supply of ropes up here.  She secured them now to my wrists, so they were attached above my head…

       She rose and stood in front of me.  She slid one strap of her black bra off of her shoulder.  I groaned.  She slowly removed it, her breasts sliding free and bouncing in front of me as her bra dropped to the floor.  She then slid her thumbs into the top of her panties and pulled them down.  My mouth gaped at the string of cum that stretched out as she did this.  She stepped out of her panties and I gazed at her in adoration; at my Mary, my love. 

       I hadn’t seen her naked in eight years.  I was aware that I was hopeless to see her clearly, but she was as sexy as ever.  Her curves had filled out; she had deliciously round hips, irresistible breasts hanging over a stomach that I was dying to caress.  Of course my hands were frustratingly, deliciously tied above my head.

       She crouched to her knees and gazed at me with want as she stretched her entire body over me, covering me with her and I felt her skin in every place.  I moaned as she crushed my head to the mattress with a kiss, pressing her breasts against my chest, my cock throbbing as it pulsed only inches from where it wanted to go.  She lowered her lips to my ear.

       “You know the reason your ankles are free is so you can thrust.” she whispered, and desire flooded through me.  “But not until I tell you to.”  Instead she slid so she sat on my chest, and I whimpered at first until her pussy came closer to my mouth, closer, closer…

       Her moans as my tongue came into contact with her clit were as deep and desirous as my own.  I had tasted other women’s cum and had forgotten how intoxicating Mary’s flavor was.  She was sopping wet already and my heart pounded with the comprehension that I pleased her that much.  She didn’t last long at all; before I knew it she was pulsing in my mouth and screaming as she twitched and crushed me to the mattress with her thighs and ass.

       She quickly slid down and hovered her pussy over my throbbing penis.  She clasped it in her hands and I did not care that it stung from the clips still.  She looked into my eyes once and then sank down, and my world became nothing but pleasure.

       She surrounded me and I might as well have gone blind; I no longer cared about seeing.  I felt heat pulse as she rode me and I struggled with all I had to remain still as she wished, but it was becoming impossible.  I squirmed under her; I felt my blood and sweat soaking the mattress under me, and my hips disobeyed me and they rose.

       I felt two hard smacks across my nipples, and I sank my ass back to the bed.

       “When I tell you!”

       I nodded, exacerbated as she rode me, moaning, staying on my tip, never going deep, never sinking as low as I wanted her to.  I told myself it shouldn’t matter; I should be so lucky to have any kind of sex with her at all; but my cock didn’t care.  It wanted to go in.

       I thrust again and she smacked my nipples with her palms, twice, then grabbed them and twisted.  I yelped; they were still very sensitive, and I sank back to the mattress.

       “When I tell you, boy.” she demanded, and then she went back to her light teasing, sinking only just low enough so that I was inside of her, then rising back out again.  I struggled against my bonds.  It was maddening. 

       I looked up at her face then, and saw intense, deep pleasure.  Her eyes were closed.  I felt her grow tense, and then I felt her start to twitch.  I realized that somehow, she was cumming a third time…

       “Yes, yes!  Now boy, thrust now!”

       I eagerly obeyed her, bending my knees so my feet were close to her, giving me leverage.  I thrust up hard, both of us moaning loudly, which turned into groans, which turned into screams. 

       “Yes, yes, yes!” she shouted, and I said nothing but I agreed as pleasure erased all my other thoughts.  When I cummed I became breathless, the world vanishing around me and I saw nothing but my Mary-Beth above me.

       I collapsed onto the mattress, exhausted.  She collapsed on top of me, keeping me inside of her.  We both panted for awhile, before she reached up and unclasped my wrists.  I immediately wrapped my arms around her.  She gazed down into my face.

       “Oh, that felt sooo good.” she said.  I beamed at her with adoration.  “I can’t tell you how badly I’ve wanted to fuck you since you got here.”

       I cocked my head in curiosity.

       “Then why did you wait this long?” I asked.  She smiled.

       “It takes a month before the birth control pill takes full effect, stupid boy.” she said, laughing, and my cheeks flushed.  “Today was the first safe day.”

       I contemplated this.

       “So…will we be having sex all the time now?”

       She laughed and twisted my nipple.  I yelped.

       “As much of it as you can take.”

       She pulled me out of her, collapsed on top of me, and shortly fell asleep.  I knew I wouldn’t be long after her; it was probably past midnight, now, and we had worked all day.  I stroked her hair for a few moments as I held her and smiled to myself.  As much sex as I could take.  It sounded like heaven to me. 

       I gazed down at her gorgeous, delicious body with the new knowledge that I would be seeing it again.  And again, and again, for as long as I wanted, for as long as I lived.  I wasn’t sure when, exactly, I had made that promise to her, but it was made.  I was hers. 

       I realized, laughing at myself, that I had always been hers.  That I had always loved being hers, that being with her had always made me happy, since we were little kids.  And I was starting to see that she was also mine, a thought that had somehow never occurred to me before; but was obvious once I saw it.  She didn’t want another boy.  She didn’t want someone else.  Someone else was as meaningless to her as it was to me.

       I laughed at myself at all of my worries about whether she would take me back.  Of course she would have taken me back.  She needed me as I needed her…no, “need” wasn’t the right word.

       I stroked her hair until she stirred in my arms.

       “Mary.” I said softly, and she squished up her face and became irresistibly cute. 

       “Mary.” I said again, and she squinted and opened her eyes.

       “Yes, boy?” she said sweetly, her face full of adoration.  I was flabbergasted that I’d never noticed before that she looked at me that way.

       “Mary, I love you.”  I said, my heart fluttering with fear as I hoped she believed me.

       She smiled.

       “I love you too, boy.” she said, and I held her tightly to my chest.  She reached out her arms and held me in return, and I was filled with a sense of glowing wholeness.

       “Since we were little kids.  I might own the rest of you, boy, but you do own my heart.”

       I smiled, as I already knew that she was mine.  Screw Billy, and my college degree, and my career, and the whole rest of the world.  I was where I belonged and I knew how I wanted to live: always, every day, for the rest of my life, as Mary’s boy.