Ken exited the master bath and moved to cross the room to his wife. He ran a hand through his slightly damp hair and dropped his eyes downward.
Miranda watched him. She had just taken a set of silk shorts pajamas out the dresser drawer. His towel was slung low on his hips. She could see a few droplets of water still clinging to his sparse chest hairs. He always preferred to at least partially drip dry. She couldn't help the rush of arousal her whole body felt at his approach. But God she was angry, no beyond angry with him. She couldn't even describe what she was feeling. The best she could come up with was quiet, dull rage, which she was aware was a massive contradiction.
She needed to go shower herself. She needed him. She knew that. As furious as she was, he was still her husband, and what he had done hadn't stopped her love for him. There was just no way she could give him the control she typically allowed him.
She approached him. He didn't lift his eyes. She had never seen him look so contrite. She reached past him, dropping the pajamas onto the nightstand behind him. She placed a hand on his left shoulder at the junction of his pec. He sighed and leaned into her touch, but he still didn't lift his eyes.
"Miran.."
"Don't," she cut him off. "I don't want to hear it. Lay down on the bed, center. I'm in charge tonight. And I know your jaw hurts, but so help me if you open your mouth again, I will gag you." That got him to finally lift his eyes. A nasty reddish-purple bruise had already spread to most of his left cheek extending down to his chin.
He did as she asked.
She crossed to the drawer in the nearby cabinet where he stored their restraints. She returned to him, cuffing his right wrist, and pulling it up to the corner of the bed and hooking a short, attached chain. Ken had installed eye bolts into the studs in the wall behind the bed. She knew where everything was, their positions were just generally reversed. He watched her, not saying a word as directed, and she crossed around the foot of the bed to secure his other wrist. She pulled his towel out from under him, leaving him bound and naked on top of the bed. Not saying a word, she went into the bathroom.
Ken lay on his back, arms held spread out and above his head. He heard her turn the water on. He fathomed how angry she was at him, and she had every right to be. He had fucked up, royally.
He knew there was a major difference between the bondage he had just put Malone, and even Tina, through, he just hoped that Miranda did too. He really hoped he hadn't inadvertently destroyed the absolutely most satisfying sexual relationship he had ever had in his life. The release they both got from it was unlike anything. At the moment, he would do literally anything she needed to gain her trust back.
Regardless, for a few moments, he lay in the restraints, allowing himself to feel how he imagined Malone had felt. He wasn't sure if that was part of Miranda's plan or not, but it didn't matter. He thought about his apparently new employee. The man was strong, and not just physically. Ken was fairly certain he would have cracked far sooner.
He was still concerned that Miranda had let the two people he had been keeping under lock and key just be loose on the property, unattended. Either of them could leave, alert the police, murder himself and Miranda in their sleep. He laughed to himself as he glanced up at one of his hands and then the other. His darling wife had just made either of those possibilities way easier. He chuckled again at the image in his mind of local law enforcement storming into the bedroom, finding him in his current state. He knew most of the cops personally, making a point to get to know Jackson's finest, buying them drinks while out in the local cowboy bar. He had even gotten friendly with the mayor. It was much easier to reduce suspicion when the guys questioning you already knew you and liked you.
The water still running, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to just be quiet and rest. Miranda was taking a long shower. He wasn't surprised. If he was lucky, she was shaving, nearly everything, and would return to him sleek and smooth. He really hoped she was going to be willing to touch him when she got back, and wasn't planning on torturing him with denial.
He startled, what he guessed was a few minutes later, hearing the water shut off. He must have dozed off. He felt his previously soft dick jump with anticipation. He had no problem laying where he was and letting his wife take what she needed from him, he just really hoped and prayed that was what was going to happen. They had had the biggest dry spell the past week or so that they had ever had, since their first night together after the Cummings wedding. His body was starved for her. Right on cue, she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a light terry cloth robe. It was pale purple in color. Her hair was wet, and she had pulled it back in a simple black ponytail holder. Ken watched her, as he breathed softly through slightly parted lips.
She didn't say a word, and neither did he. She moved to the foot of the bed, pushing his legs out to the sides, to settle herself in between his thighs. Ken stopped breathing. He knew he didn't deserve this, or for that matter anything from his wife right now, but that didn't mean he didn't need it, her, desperately.
Miranda eyes remained on his cock, not his face, almost like she was refusing to look at him. She stuck out her tongue to taste him and he closed his eyes, dropping his head back into the pillow. It didn't matter if she wouldn't look at him. It didn't matter how mad she was at him. If she still needed him, like he needed her, eventually they'd be ok. Her lips sank down in a tight 'O' around him to his base, hungrily. He felt the touch of her teeth. He didn't care. He swallowed his moan.
Miranda felt him tense underneath her. She reached one hand up to rest on his abdominals, they were taught. She wrapped her other hand around his scrotum. She had every intention of being rough with him. She thought about denying him, but in truth, she needed him, possibly even more than he needed her. She was planning on being selfish and she didn't care. Some women might have thought her crazy for starting with a blowjob, but she had come to love the feel of his large, heavy penis in her mouth. It was intimate and made her feel powerful. Right now, she needed both feelings. She lapped at him, and swirled her way down. She had learned with practice how to deep throat him, and it still wasn't easy. She felt definite pride at her skill. Her hand still resting on his stomach felt his muscles tense even further. Taking pity on him, she released him to speak, finally looking up to catch his eyes. "Baby, you can moan, groan, cry, but I don't want to hear a fucking word out of you. Do you understand?"
Ken looked down at his wife, grateful that she had finally looked at him and also grateful that he was being allowed to at least let out some noise to release his tension, trying to remain completely silent when she was working him like this was borderline painful. He nodded his understanding. She dropped her eyes and then her lips back over him and he released a deep groan that was the summation of the last few minutes. She chuckled, she actually chuckled, with her hot mouth still wrapped around him, and the reverberations nearly caused him to spill his release right then and there. God, he would die without her.
Miranda swallowed some of the saliva in her mouth and renewed her efforts. She licked, she sucked, she pulled on his balls. She was sooo not being gentle. He didn't care, he'd take whatever she was willing to give. Just as he felt his balls start to tighten with his impending release, she released him, sliding up to lean over him. He had to squelch down his words of frustration and disappointment. She reached up and gave his bruised cheek a gentle smack. If he wasn't already injured, it wouldn't have hurt at all, but with Malone's bruise, it intensified the already nagging pain, and he knew that was her intent.
She got off of him enough to go to the nightstand drawer and grab the bottle of lube. She returned to him, squirting a generous amount into her right hand, smearing it down his erect shaft. He let out another deep moan, biting his tongue to avoid telling her how much he loved her, how much he needed her, how sorry he was.
She positioned herself over him, one hand spreading her folds, the other grasping his base. His tip pressed to her opening, she looked down at him, locking her gaze to his. "Baby, you cum before I tell you to and I will kill you," and with that she popped herself down over him to the hilt. She cried out with a sharp gasp. He knew with his size that she had probably just hurt herself, but he also knew she would have known that. Apparently, she was feeling the need to punish herself too.
Ken panted through his teeth, willing his body to stay still. His core tightened with tension. Miranda took an exploratory lift up a few inches and dropped back down. They cried out together. She dropped a hand to her clit and raised the other to alternate between palming her breasts and tweaking her own nipples. Ken looked at his beautiful, amazing, uninhibited wife. He was going to explode.
She looked down at him. Her eyes were fire. "Move," she commanded. "Fuck me."
He didn't need to be told twice. He slammed his hips upwards, banging her pelvis. She shrieked. He did it again.
Placing her left hand on his ribcage, she dropped her right behind to rub at his testicles. They found a rhythm. She bounced down. He thrust up. Sensation overwhelmed them both. Miranda licked her lips and dropped her head back. Ken felt her clench impossibly tighter around him. "Cum with me you fucking bastard."
He didn't need to be told twice. She screamed and he about yelled out, their mutual cries echoing in the otherwise quiet room. He pumped his release inside her. She collapsed down on his chest.
Miranda snuggled her face into the right side of his neck. Ken lay under her, trying and failing to get his breathing back under control. She kissed his neck. "I love you," she murmured softly, lips still against his skin. When she didn't get a response, she said, "Ken, you can speak now."
Without taking a breath, he blurted out, "Miranda, I fucking love you. I'm so sorry, honey."
"No," she cut him off. "I don't want to hear your apology or your excuses. I just want you to fix it and don't you dare fuck up this badly ever again," she paused. "Promise me."
Now he let out a breath. "Miranda, I love you more than life itself. I will fix it. I promise. And I can at least promise that I will try to never fuck up this bad ever again."
"I guess that will have to do," she answered. She untucked herself from him and shifted up to release his hands. He rubbed his wrists briefly and then his face, grimacing with the contact. It still smarted.
"What did Tina whisper to you before you left for the kitchen by the way?" he asked. He had been curious.
"Well, we both knew you guys needed to talk, but apparently Malone's kind of the big, silent type, unless you get him drinking."
"That's good to know." He paused. "You know I'm not happy you went behind by back to see both of them, especially Malone." He had been about ready to lose his shit when he figured it out. If it wasn't for the euphoric brain chemicals currently flowing freely through his whole system, he probably still would be. "You could have been hurt, or worse!" He raised his voice, part of him still wanted to bellow at her.
"That wasn't going to happen."
Ken gave her a stern look that translated into and just how do you know that?
"Ken, after everything you told me about them, they weren't going to hurt someone else's wife who was trying to help them. You went after people that are better than you, us, for a reason remember?"
"Regardless, if we're going to do this, we also have to trust each other, and that means no secrets."
"You started it by not telling me what you were doing!" she argued.
"I was trying to protect you!" he countered. "Look, Miranda, I still won't be able to tell you everything. My first priority is to protect you and that means I won't be telling you everything."
Miranda huffed and gave him a look that she was obviously not ok with that plan.
Ken ran one of his large hands over his face as had become habit when arguing with his wife. He stopped the instant he reached his bruise, having forgotten about Malone punching him. He grimaced again; he was going to be sore for a while. He knew his wife. He'd need to compromise. "Ok, how 'bout this? If you ask me anything directly, I promise not to lie to you."
"I'll agree as long as you agree to make better decisions."
Ken laughed at that one. He smiled at her and sweetly kissed the tip of her nose, "Yes, dear."
They talked for a bit more, and a little while later they both drifted off to sleep.
He woke up in the middle of the night with a raging hard on.
As he shifted, she stirred next to him. He whispered to her softly, "Miranda, can I bind you?" Then holding his breath for her response, he asked, "Can you accept me again to take control of you?" What he was really asking was, can you trust me again?
He let out his breath as she nodded her consent. Ken wasn't a man to ease back in slow. He was going to go all in. He sprang into action. Grabbing for supplies, within minutes he had her completely incapacitated.
The first thing he did was grab for the lube bottle, generously smearing it down his rock-hard shaft and then taking more to rub over her cunt. He fingered her clit, admittedly a little roughly, and she squirmed in the bindings, but he had her snugged down tight to the bed. She was going to have to just lay there and take whatever he dished out. A few more delft strokes with his fingers and she was already falling into her release. He knew her tells, and that her orgasms varied in level, this one wasn't going to be earth shattering, so like the ass that he was, instead of fulfilling her, he removed his digits to literally fill her. One solid thrust forward and he was back inside her.
"Fuck, Ken," she panted up at him. "I'll never get tired of that. Every time, baby. Every time you first slide in, it's unlike anything."
He leaned down to kiss her, but he didn't leave his lips on hers for long. At the moment his body needed to fuck, needed to dominate, take charge. He pumped himself into her. Miranda shook and shuddered beneath him, pulling on the cuffs on her limbs. He imagined she was already sore from earlier, and he wasn't giving her body time to settle and ease into pleasure, which meant she was having to fight to get herself to relax. He'd feel bad about it if he didn't already know that her building tension would eventually skyrocket into an incredible release, and she knew it too. Which was why she didn't tell him to stop. A minute or so more, just as his muscles threatened to give out on him, her orgasm broke with a crash and she came with a sharp cry, her walls clenching tight around him. He groaned with near pain, slamming down his own release, as her waves of pleasure washed over him. The second she softened into her bliss, he slid himself out. His cock head bumped over her clit as he moved to shift forward, and she moaned and twitched with the stimulation, completely over sensitized. Her eyes were closed as he pushed his dick to her lips. Obediently, she parted her lips and he pushed in. Her jaw relaxed, she sucked him as far into her mouth as she could. As soon as she got situated, he felt her tongue lap his underside at the base with the perfect amount of pressure, and he was done for. That always did it for him, and she was well aware. Tongue lapping, throat relaxed and mere seconds passing, he let himself go.
He slid himself out of her mouth. She licked her lips. He placed a gag between them. Her eyes shot up to his with a look of both shock and defiance. Obviously, it was not what she was expecting. Usually, he would let her up now. He knew he had crossed a line the past few weeks with Malone and his wife. In reality, he knew part of her craved him being a dick, literally and figuratively. It was part of their dynamic. He reached behind her head and buckled the gag straps. Her look of fire faded the second he dropped down to eat her out, as she slammed her eyes shut and dropped her head back into the pillow.
The bedside phone rang a little after seven. Miranda groaned; she was still exhausted. Time to face the music. She reached for the receiver, nearly dropping it. "Hello?" she asked, her voice groggy.
"Miranda, it's Tina. Sorry to bother you, but Mike's hungry. Is it ok if we go over to the kitchen and get something to eat? We can take care of ourselves, this is just all so new, and well, weird. I just don't know what's protocol."
Recovering, and forcing her voice to sound stronger than she felt, she answered, "Tina, we want you and Mike to be comfortable here. This is going to be your home, too. We'll establish some ground rules, but with the exception of staying out of each other's private quarters without invitation, mi casa, su casa, you know? Go on and head over and help yourselves, but Ken and I will come join you. We'll be down in a few minutes."
"Ok, thanks." There was a pause. "Hey, Miranda, thanks, and I mean it." The phone clicked off.
"Ken?" Miranda shoved gently at her husband's shoulder. He responded with an annoyed groan. "Ken, come on. We've got to get up."
About a half an hour later, she and Ken had managed to take quick showers and throw on some causal clothes to at least be somewhat presentable. She had grabbed a few things to loan the other couple, but she and Tina really needed to go shopping.
They had all gotten something to eat. Miranda decided that she still needed to fulfill the role of cruise director, and she had thought a few things over. "I think we need to work together on some closure to some bad decisions. I have a proposal that the four of us go today to clean up both the room upstairs and the back shed."
Malone and Ken spoke at nearly the same time with respectively, "You've got to be kidding me," and "No, I'll do it."
Tina looked at the two men. Her psychology training was kicking in. She put a gentle hand on her husband's arm. He might have been the strongest man she had ever known, but that didn't mean what had happened to him hadn't deeply affected him. "Mike, she's actually on to something. I know going back up there is probably the last thing you want to do, but working together to clean it will help us all to recover."
"Tina, I love you, but I don't need your psychiatric mumbo jumbo right now."
"It's not mumbo jumbo. You trust me, right?"
"Of course, you're my wife, with my life. But, I don't want to do this."
"So, if you won't do it for you, then will you do it for me?"
Malone let out a breath, he knew what she was doing, but that didn't mean he could stop her. "Fine," he agreed, begrudgingly.
Tina did have the thought that cleaning up would also remove evidence of what had happened to herself and her husband. But she was also nearly certain that they wouldn't be reporting anything requiring a crime scene investigation anyway.
The four of them cleaned and straightened up the bathroom in the upstairs wing first. Ken disconnected the chain from the metal connector on the wall. He folded up the chain with the shackle to store them in a hidden compartment in the corner of the main room, behind one of the chairs in the sitting area. Malone tried to argue with him that he needed to just get rid of it. Ken argued back that even though he had agreed to change tactics, that didn't mean they would never need somewhere to confine someone again. The set up in the upstairs room was in reality, a relatively comfortable way of doing so. Malone helped him put the spare mattress back in storage in a nearby hall closet, and Tina and Miranda picked everything else up and cleaned the bathroom together.
By the time they had also finished cleaning the basement where Ken had held him, he had to admit his wife had been right. It had been cathartic. It didn't escape his notice that in the process they were also removing any evidence of what had happened, but the more time he spent with both Ken and Miranda, the more he began to realize he wasn't going to turn them anyway. Despite one of the rockiest starts in the history of friendships, he was beginning to realize that not only was Miranda a kindred soul, but Ken, figgin Ken, was fast becoming his new best friend. The man just seemed to understand him. He didn't push for more than he was willing to give, verbally, or otherwise, and they worked well together, with little effort. Ken even let him take the ATV that had been left the day before back down the trail. After weeks of confinement, the wind in his hair felt amazing.
Collectively, they had reached out to the camp back in Colorado, where Matthew was, and Miranda had paid for an extra week, figuring that they all needed a bit more settling time before trying to add a teenage boy into an already difficult situation. Tina had resisted about the money, but Miranda had assured her that while, yes, the whole point of the plan was to generate income, finances for paying for an extra week of camp were not an issue. She had further told Tina that it was the least she and Ken could do as a sign-on bonus for the start of their 'forced' employment.
Both parents had talked to their son on the phone, Tina having to hold back her tears. Malone was more stoic, but internally he had to admit there had been more than a solid fear that he would never see or speak to his son again. Matthew had been a typical less than chatty teenage boy. The fact that he was feeling slightly abandoned by his parents, combined with the fact that he was well, Malone's son, resulted in a relatively short conversation. Tina had been able to have a longer conversation with his head camp counselor. She had assured her that Matthew had been flourishing at camp, thriving with all of the outdoor activity and popular with his peers. His attentions also sought after by several of the camp girls. He had inherited his father's height and good looks and his mother's striking eyes. It was bad enough that the counselors had collectively been having to keep a close eye on him, but even more so on the interested girls. The counselor seemed relieved that Malone's 'health concerns' were improving, and that Matthew would be able to go home next week.
Matthew took the news that his father had a new job in Wyoming and that they wouldn't be going back to Colorado, in stride. Being a military kid, moving was a common occurrence. Miranda had sent money to settle up with their landlord and hired a moving company to pack up what few belongings they had to be trucked up to the estate, and two, became five.