Recompense

 (another stream of thought story, please forgive any errors)

Recompense

Chapter 1

She looked sad on the doorstep, just in from the downpour that was happening, her hair plastered to her head. Her shitty half-painted Honda was in his driveway, probably leaking oil all over the driveway.

"I'm sorry," she said. 

She had ghosted him almost 2 years ago, and after a month of trying to get in touch with her, he had let her go. He probably knew it was coming, he thought, but it still hurt, a lot. They were still seeing each other semi-regularly, and he was in love more than she. He knew that, too. 

"What... do you want?" he asked her, blocking the doorway. There was only a slight porch overhand, so the rain continued to drench her, which he didn't exactly hate.

"Just to talk," she whimpered. It was pitiful, but it was an act. He knew her too well, and he knew she must be very down on her luck to show up here. He thought she was probably out on her own, and not doing well. Being taken care of was one of her specialties, and self-reliance was not.

But those feelings that flooded into his brain weren't easy to ignore. The love that had driven him crazy, the lust for her admittedly amazing body and face, even the frustration of dealing with her immaturity and naivete, it all hit him at once, and he was defenseless against it. Well, mostly.

"Come in," he finally said, stepping aside. She walked in, dripping everywhere, and he got her a beach towel from the hall closet.

She stripped in front of him, right there at the doorway, not asking if he was alone, not caring. He had seen her naked a thousand times, and every single time he was struck by how perfect she was formed. She had a sex doll body with the self-confidence of a fat girl, and so she could suck and fuck better than anyone he had ever been with. Also the reason she was rarely not being some man's plaything. He found her a robe from when she was still living there with him, in the back of the closet, where he put the things he still couldn't bear to give away.

She put it on slowly, watching him, gauging his reaction to her body. Her breasts were fake but the surgeon was skillful, crafting the perfect teardrop, natural look with just enough fullness to make it obvious she had been altered. Long legs for a petite girl, her torso was short with a small waist quickly curving out in flared soft hips, with smooth slim arms and delicate hands, always manicured. He instantly longed to see her french nails wrapped around his hardness. He quickly banished the thought and hoped his slight erection wasn't visible in his jeans.

"Do you want anything? Coffee?" he asked, turning toward the kitchen. 

"Yes, you know how I like it," she smiled. That tone he had heard before, she was getting smug, happy, satisfied, thinking she had already conquered him just by showing up. "I'm going to dry my hair real quick, be right back," she said. She went down the hall and left him in his thoughts, which was the worst thing she could've done.

He remembered that she didn't even tell him she was leaving him. She didn't tell him she was moving up the mountain with some rich tech guy. That she would be on her instagram a week later with ski pictures and hot tub pictures and a hundred others showing what a great time she was having, while he messaged her on every platform, asking 'why', asking for an explanation, a bread crumb, anything. But she was silent, because she was done with him.

So when she came out, hair perfectly half-dry and tousled as sexy as she could manage, there was coffee there, sure, but his demeanor had changed back to the man she had met at the door - annoyed and angry, with a touch of hatred.

She didn't catch it, of course, why would she? She relied on her looks, not her ability to interpret looks or catch hints. But she was here because of that, because she had no empathy for him, or for the tech guy in the mountains that dropped her as soon as she got caught in a club giving head on a back couch.

She had thought he would have at least let her take the Audi, but he dragged her old Honda out of storage and dumped her clothes and makeup into it, handed her the keys, and closed the gate without a word. She never thought to beg him to take her back, her mind instantly spun through her list of men, but somehow she was coming up blank. Every bridge burned when she left them, most of them despising her, other than a few that wouldn't mind a one nighter. 

Until she got to him. The one she would've married if he was richer. If he was hotter. If he drove better cars than a semi-new Ford F-350 or classic BMW. Because he was nice, and loved her, and treated her like a person more than a thing. That was the one, she thought. The one left that would take her back. She put on old jeans and a tight t-shirt, knowing how it would look when it stuck to her body in the rain, and drove to his house in the suburbs.

She had manipulated men since the 8th grade, when she caught a history teacher eyeing her ass as she left the classroom, and suddenly realized the situation he would be in if she told someone. That led to her first sexual encounter, a brief and fumbling blowjob after school, where he pleaded for her to never tell even as the last of his cum dribbled down her chin. She never told, got good grades, always had some spare cash for food or shoes, and started her journey of twisting men around her finger for her benefit. First teachers, then professors, though college was too boring for her, then businessmen in expensive suits that she could identify by cut and color. They all took care of her, and she took care of them. It seemed like an optimal arrangement, until she got bored.

That's what had happened here, she thought. It was really his fault, they weren't going out much or partying, and when she was skiing that one time and the cute tech guy hit on her, she knew what she was missing. Not her fault at all. Just how things go. 

She smiled at him and picked up her coffee, the dazzling perfect teeth and perfect bow of her lips signaling her happiness to be there. It really was dazzling, too. He only avoided falling for it because of their past, and even so he almost did, again. 

“So what have you been up to?” she asked innocently, like she was casually visiting a friend. 

“Mostly work, really,” he said. “It’s been a good year so I’ve been really busy.” He wasn’t lying. The crap startup he dreamed up turned into a semi-good startup, with new investors and quite a big of cash influx. He wasn’t crazy rich or anything but he wasn’t hurting. He was glad it was all in the bank though, and not on display with a Ferrari or huge house. This one was big enough, and his truck actually did cost a lot. “I was actually working when you rang the doorbell.”

“Oh, sorry!” she feigned surprise, and that she cared. She never cared where the money came from, just that it was there for her. “Are you still doing the… online thing?” He smiled at her cluelessness. He never minded that she didn’t know, it wasn’t the easiest thing to understand, and she was so cute in her ignorance anyway. “NO..NO..NO” he thought. Don’t fall back into this.

She caught that look, though. She wasn’t quite as dumb as she seemed. She was no genius, but she played up the ‘dumb hottie’ thing to her advantage. She had followed his startup, googling him when she was bored and tech guy was busy, and she knew he was doing well. She also knew when to push and when to stop.

“Hey can I crash here for just a few nights?” she asked innocently. “I do totally have money and I’m gonna get a place, just need to find a nice one, you know?” He didn’t want to. He knew he shouldn’t. But even he had no defense against those big, blue eyes and soft voice, the look of her perched up on his barstool, robe allowing some leg to show through, some cleavage to peek out, and her hair piled up on her head. 

“Yeah…of course,” he said. ‘Idiot’, he thought.

“Thank you, really, I know you didn’t have to,” she said. She really was thankful, because she literally had nowhere to go, and no money to use. She hadn’t needed her own money since... ever? Not that she was a whore, that’s just how it worked out. Guys got to be with her, and she was taken care of. Since the dawn of time, she figured.

“Downstairs ok?” he asked, and she nodded. He made sure there were plenty of blankets and everything she needed. “I need to get back to work,” he said, and left her downstairs. The rest of the day went without their interaction – he was busy in his office, and he only heard her a few times in the kitchen, making herself a coffee, or some food. It was nice, he thought, to have someone around. “NO” he remined himself.

He knocked off around 9pm, a normal workaholic day for him, and went out to the kitchen to get a drink. She was in the living room watching elephants run around on TV, and she waved to him with her shy smile that he only saw when she was feeling small. He went over and sat with her for awhile, not bringing up anything too deep, and suddenly he just felt way too tired to be up.

“You ok if I hit the sack?” he said. “I’ve been going since 5 am.” She nodded, and thanked him again for taking her in. He just nodded back and went down the hall to his bedroom. He was asleep in just a few minutes, not hearing her getting clothes and her other things from her car and taking them to her room.

She made herself at home in the basement – it was bigger than most apartments, with a full kitchen, bathroom and theater room, and she could’ve done a lot worse. There wasn’t much food down here, but she’d remedy that soon, and who knows where this would lead? She felt warm, and happy, and crawled into her bed, secure in the knowledge that yet another man was taking care of her again.

She woke around midnight, a little flustered by the strange environment, relaxing when she remembered where she was. Her fingers slid down her flat stomach and between her legs, where she slowly and smoothly aroused herself, pushing her hips up to meet her hand, sometimes tasting herself before touching again. She never thought about men, just herself, what she looked like, her body, how she felt, how it felt to touch herself, and she would invariably cum just from that. But not tonight. She grew frustrated and would stop even as she got close. ‘This is dumb’, she thought.

He woke up slowly in the dark, automatically glancing at the clock glowing 12:30am, his head fuzzy. That’s when he felt the mouth wrapped around his cock, the small hand gripping the base, and he looked down in the dim light to see her, the most beautiful girl in the world, her tongue swirling around his head, stopping to lick the shaft underneath, even suck on his tight balls, then back to deepthroat him, hand never leaving the shaft, constantly stroking. There was no thought of stopping her, not with that mouth, that skill. He let her continue, the maddening perfection of her mouth sucking him to full hardness, how she easily took it down her throat, her non-existent gag reflex proven since that day in a classroom in 8th grade. He thrust up and was rewarded by her sharp intake of breath, but she never slowed, and he felt bigger and thicker than he could ever remember. He wanted her, badly, and not just her mouth.

She grinned in the dark as he roughly pulled her up to him, kissed her, and then firmly impaled her on his raging cock. She rode him breathlessly, his size was one of her favorites, and he filled her completely without hurting her. She whimpered just enough and at the right times, never like a porn star, but letting him know he was fucking her right. If he pushed harder, she would squeal like he wanted, and if he relaxed, she would grind him as though she needed his cock more than oxygen. 

He was hers, she thought, and she came for him, screaming out his name and releasing all of her tension from the day. 

He let her finish, then moved her onto her back, spreading her legs up and onto his shoulders, and driving himself as deep as possible inside her. She gasped, for real this time, as he went too deep, but she knew he needed to own her. He did, thrusting as hard as he could, punishing her with his cock for all her past mistakes, driving himself farther than he thought possible, hoping to almost cause her pain with his pleasure, until he couldn’t take it anymore. He shouted out his climax, unloading deep inside her, where only 2 nights ago she was taking her last boyfriend’s cum, a man she had almost entirely forgotten about already. She wrapped her legs around him, gripping him tightly and kissing him hard as they collapsed together. 

He rolled off her, breathing hard. 

“Fuck!” she said, giggling. That’s what they needed, men. They needed to know they fucked her right, that she was happy with their cock and their fucking ability. For the most part, she usually was happy, as long as she came, which she usually did.

“Yeah,” he agreed. She was perfection in bed, and they both knew it. Her body looked good, felt good, fucked good. She knew how to kiss, when to kiss, when to scream. She knew sex. She was sex. 

“Thanks… I gotta sleep though,” he added. She nodded and got up, not wanting to push things, not yet. She walked downstairs and cleaned up in the bathroom, hearing his toilet flushing in the room above. She was happy, she thought, and she might never leave, if things worked out.

He cursed himself as he tried to sleep again. Not for the sex, that was fantastic, and he needed it. But for letting her win. He contemplated how he’d fix this, and when he finally went to sleep, he had a contented smile on his face.

The next day was uneventful, as he had to work again. She attempted to draw him in a few times throughout the day, teasing him in the kitchen with tight shorts and a tank top, or suggestively sucking on a straw when he looked her way. But he seemed distant, probably distracted by work, and she stopped trying after awhile and watched some Netflix downstairs.

By 8pm she was bored again and thought maybe he’d want her in his bed tonight. She put on some cute pajamas that showed off her tits and ass, then went upstairs. He was on the couch, watching some news program, when she sat next to him.

They watched silently for awhile, til she piped up. “I could use some more of that… from last night,” she said softly, her long legs tucked up under her, making her look tiny and vulnerable on the cushion. He barked out a short laugh. “No, I don’t think so,” he said. She pouted.

“Why not? That was good!” He just smiled this time. 

“Sex with you is always good, that’s not the issue,” he said, glancing sideways at her. He didn’t really have a defense against her pouting, her big lower lip sticking out just made him want to kiss her, so he chose not to look. 

“Well, what is it?” she asked. He looked at her then, shaking his head. It’s like she had no clue why he wouldn’t want her. He was pretty sure she didn’t know.

“You hurt me. Bad. For a long time. I don’t really want you around here,” he said simply. “I have a lot going on and you’re distracting.” She smiled, big and pretty, blue eyes wide open. ‘Goddammit she is gorgeous’ his brain told him. “I won’t distract you, I promise, just at night!” she laughed, a sexy, throaty laugh, not the high-pitched tinny squeal you get from so many vacuous girls. His body was reacting to her and he didn’t even know it.

She kept side stepping his point. “Look, you can’t just waltz back in here like nothing happened,” he told her. “You can’t get away with that.” She looked pained.

“I’m not trying to, I’m just trying to be with you,” she said. She looked down at her hands, twisting them as she considered how best to look sad. “I know I was wrong, I’m sorry,” she continued.

“Not enough,” he said bluntly.

“What? What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled.

“Not enough. It’s not enough that you know you’re wrong. You do this, over and over, and no one ever punishes you,” he added. He stole a look at her then. This was the pivotal moment; this was when it might or might now work. The plan in his head from last night spun around in his thoughts, everything he had dreamed up contingent on the next few minutes. He waited. 

“Punished? I’m not a kid,” she said, scowling at him momentarily. “You can’t ground me or something.”

“Well then I just need you to find a place soon,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t want you here.”

A tear welled up in her eye, a real one, for once. She was scared of leaving, she didn’t have anyone ready to catch her if she fell, and she was thinking that he might be the catch she had wanted all along, anyway. “What if you punished me?” she asked.

He had to turn away from her so she wouldn’t see his expression. He got up abruptly and went into the kitchen, thinking over the next few words. 

“I will,” he said, “but you have to accept it, every bit, not one refusal, not one No, you take the punishment I give, until I’m done.” He said. She could hear the ultimatum in his voice. This was it for her. So she nodded. “Ok, I will, I promise. But… what is it? What’s the punishment?” 

“You hurt me, for the last two years,” he said. “So for the next month, I’m going to hurt you, however I want. 30 days, and it’s over, and then I want you with me, forever.” He crossed his arms and stood in front of her.

‘Forever’, she thought. Might be nice not to have to jump around, move every year or two, try to figure out a new guy and situation, and friends, and families. Just 30 days and she’d have him forever, his security, home, cars, money, and love. She knew he loved her more than any other man had.

“30 days. Anything.” She stood up and formally shook his hand. “When does it start?” she asked, batting her eyes at him. She knew he wouldn’t last, knew he’d probably spank her or something for a few days and it would be over. 

He smiled at her, shaking her hand, then kissing her. “Now,” he said. He pushed her to her knees on the carpet. She smiled as she went down, thinking it would be even easier than she thought. Just give him good head whenever he wanted, that was his ‘punishment’, and she was more than willing to do that anyway. She’d suck his dick til she was 80 if it got her what she wanted. She pulled at his pants, trying to get to his cock.

“No,” he said. He sat on the couch and then pulled his pants down. She eagerly crawled between his legs and started sucking on him, expecting and getting him to grow as fast as possible as she looked up at him. He casually pulled something from behind the couch pillow. 

“Here,” he said. He tied a bandana, or a tie, or something she couldn’t tell, around her eyes, tightly behind her head. It was hardly the first time she’d been tied up, or bound, or gagged, she thought. Her last boyfriend used to choke her with a hemp rope, she thought, and the asphyxiation made her cum SO fucking hard. This was nothing. She kept blowing him.

After a few minutes he was fully erect and pounding her mouth. She was gasping from the ramming and her saliva was everywhere, just how men liked it, but then his hands were in his hair, and instead of pushing her head down, he pulled, HARD. She gasped as she was almost lifted into the air by her hair, and the pain was unbearable. She screamed, her legs flailing to touch the ground, saliva still dripping from her chin. She was trying to see, trying to pull the blindfold down and yell at him, what the FUCK was he doing, when she thought she heard a whistling sound, air displaced, and suddenly, her head was whiplashed violently as he struck the side of her face with an open hand.

She felt blinded, this time by white, not black. She felt dizzy, lightheaded, then the pain in her head returned and she screamed again. He dropped her, only a few inches, and she collapsed to the ground. The right side of her face was bright red, with his handprint displayed on her cheek. ‘He had HIT HER!’ she thought, outraged. She pulled the mask off, eyes wide in anger, and was about to scream at him. 

“30 days,” he said simply. “Anything.” He smiled, a smug, asshole smile that was so unlike him. He was in command and she would either take it or leave. He wasn’t sure he’d care either way. Inside he wasn’t as sure of himself, though. The satisfaction he’d received from slapping her was too enjoyable. He didn’t want to enjoy hitting women. He’d never done it before. As he thought about it, he knew he’d never do it again, not to any other woman. But to her? He felt better about it. It was just her, it wasn’t that he was like that. 

She hadn’t said anything, shocked more from his words than his slap. This was the punishment. He was being literal. He was going to hurt her, over and over, and she was supposed to take it? Just to be with him? Fuck that. 

“No,” she said, “no hitting. I’m not some cheap trailer trash.” She stood up, wiping her chin, gingerly feeling her flushed face. 

“No, you’re worse,” he said calmly. His hard-on hadn’t subsided, watching her in pain. “A trash whore would care a little bit when she ghosted someone.” He had a lot more to say, but either he had 30 more days, or none. It was up to her.

“What… if I say no?” she said. 

“Then you leave. Now,” he replied. “That’s the deal. You get punished, or you leave. It’s pretty simple.” 

She thought it over, surprisingly. She figured she’d just leave, but the Honda wouldn’t get her far, and the zero money she had certainly wouldn’t help. There were guys she could prob hook up with for a night, but nothing long term. “Is that all… tonight?” she stammered. “I can’t take that any more.”

He thought it over. “Yes,” he said. “Now get your ass back over here.” He motioned crudely to his crotch, where he had barely wilted despite the situation. She looked at him, then down, then back at him, shaking her head.

And then she gave in. She gave in to what she knew she deserved, the punishment she had needed for so long, the out of control behavior, the pain she caused, everything she had done that had led her to just this place.

She got on her hands and knees and crawled to him, taking him into her mouth and sucking him. She flinched when he replaced the blindfold on her head, and she flinched when he put his hands on the aching side of her face and thrust his cock into her throat. But when he grabbed her hair and fucked her mouth, she took it, and his explosion, and swallowed him. She deserved it, and he did, too. 

When he was done, he got up and went down the hallway to the bedroom. She followed, meekly, but he turned and just looked at her. “You haven’t earned this,” he said, pointing to the master bedroom suite. “Not yet.”

She turned away, quietly going down the basement stairs. Once there she stared in the mirror at her beautiful face, marred by the five fingers and palm he had imprinted on her cheek. It throbbed with every heartbeat, and she felt shame. Not that he hit her, but that she deserved it. She felt shame for the men she had ruined. Shame for the wives that had been cheated on, the money she had wasted. Maybe she was just a trailer trash whore in a model’s body. 

She went to bed without showering or removing her makeup, and cried herself to sleep.