He had sailed this course before and saw the gale coming, he knew it was
going to be stormy and he had begun preparing for it, putting things in
their place, lashing her down tight so that he could remain in control
even as the storm blew through. He loved sailing and its zenlike
quality of harnessing forces outside his control to steer to his desired
destination.
Few who are not sailors understood this. The
stronger a wind blows, the more directly into the wind a sailor could
guide his course, an interesting life lesson to be sure. His focus was
total, it was what fighter pilots called “situational awareness” meaning
he was both focused on the task at hand but utterly aware of the bigger
picture. The task as hand was the elaborate knot he was tying to cinch
her down tight so as the storm tried to blow everything apart, he would
be secure in knowing his little part of the world would be exactly as
he wished it.
He was also feeling her as her movements
increased with the approaching storm, and without a glance he knew that
attention was needed at the rear to adjust his course a bit. He kept
his hand on the line, maintaining tension on the rope as he heeled her
over a bit more. The lashings were holding fine and she started rising
and falling more and more as the waves hit her. “This is going to be one
hell of a ride” he thought to himself.
His goal was a
distant destination and he had slowly tacked back and forth using the
storm’s fury for his own ends. He thought about how far he had come, at
first his handling of her had been awkward and clumsy, more theory than
practice but slowly he had mastered her. She went where he wanted to
go, responded to his touch better and better and he was able to go
farther and faster than he had ever gone before.
When he had
first seen her lying there in her slip, it was love, her lines were
sleek, built for speed, a bit neglected but he knew he could whip her
into shape. At first it had just been weekends, going through closets
exploring, cleaning out the detritus of her past, polishing and
improving, all with the goal of making her HIS. Even then, it was a bit
rocky, he had to learn her, she was not an easy one to handle. He
hadn’t controlled her well at first, often no matter how much he tacked
and jibed, he couldn’t get to where he wanted to go and would turn back.
But each time he took her out, he learned more, gained confidence, and
his handling of her became second nature. She became more responsive
to his commands, he could predict her responses easier and easier and
one day, they were one. It was only then that he braved the long
passage through the very storm he was facing along this course, but he
was determined she would go where he wanted, when he wanted, and how he
wanted.
The wave of orgasms washed over her as she gasped for
breath, her chest rising and falling. She writhed under the storm of
them driven into her by the Hitachi. She struggled against the lashings
he had used to secure her to the bed. The burn of the ginger made her
thrash about and she kept saying “no, oh god no” because she knew what
was next and wanted no part of it. He smiled as he drove her one,
knowing that it wasn’t a straight line course to “oh please god, yes”
but he was a patient man, knew her and was confident that he would get
where he wanted to take her.
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