Chapter 13 #2
I was torn between two clashing sides of my psyche.
On the one side, I wanted to be the girl my family believed in.
The good girl. The doting daughter and granddaughter.
On the other hand, Jesus Christ – this was hot – and I wanted to throw caution to the wind and indulge in everything this wicked man had to offer.
I just didn’t know how both facets of my personality could exist in one body… I mean, was that even possible?
I found myself staring into the mirror above his bathroom sink, as I reached behind my hair and undid the clasp behind my neck, holding up my dress.
I let it fall to the floor, the silk pooling at my feet, and stared at the ugly, healing bruise that was just starting to fade from purple to that sickly brown with yellow and green.
It was putrid in color, and I hated it. I couldn’t wait for it to fade completely.
I swallowed hard, and unclasped the barrette holding up half my hair, and set it aside, letting my hair foam and froth around my face. All I could say is I felt vulnerable, exposed, and I didn’t know if I was ready, no matter that my pussy grew wet all over again at the thought of his hands on me.
I braced my hands against the cool marble of the counter around the copper sink, and stared into the bright metal, willing myself not to stress or cry.
His hands, warm at my hips, his lips brushing my shoulder, very nearly had me coming out of my skin! I jumped and made an inarticulate and terrified sound, and his arms slid around my stomach, pulling me back against him.
He’d lost the coat and had rolled his sleeves back over his muscular forearms. I stood, staring at our reflection in the mirror as his eyes searched my face carefully in the looking glass.
“Close your eyes, baby,” he muttered against the side of my neck, and I was still scared.
I asked him, “Why?”
“Have I hurt you?” he asked me, raising his eyebrows.
“N-no,” the confession stammered. He hadn’t physically hurt me, no – honestly, he hadn’t emotionally hurt me, either. The things he had done thus far were definitely dubious and questionable… but pain had not been part of the equation.
“Close your eyes,” he tried again firmly.
I closed my eyes, and he moved. I could feel his arms drop from around my waist, and he reached into his pocket. My eyes flew open to find him clutching the white satin ribbon from the box my grandmother’s watch had been contained in.
“Trust,” he urged quietly, and I swallowed hard and closed my eyes again. Everything with him had suddenly become so tense and intense.
I was normally very good at pretending I was so sure of myself, and in certain arenas, I was very sure of myself! But this… this left me no room for certainty or surety, and I really didn’t know what to do with that.
The soft satin with its slightly crisp, scratchy edges was laid over my eyes, and I gripped the counter in front of me until I knew my knuckles mottled red and white without having to see them.
“I want you to listen to the sound of my voice, and I want either a ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’, do I make myself clear?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered uncertainly. His hands were gentle and warm where he rested them on my shoulders, his thumbs digging ever so slightly into the base of my neck.
“Do you prefer I wear a condom?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I said, and my throat felt so tight it almost made an audibly clicking sound as I tried to swallow past it.
“I’m going to push you,” he whispered in my ear.
“I’m going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.
I’m going to introduce you to a pleasure so fine it may be confused with pain.
I’m going to hurt you, not badly, but enough to make you suffer beautifully for me. Can you handle that for me?” he asked.
I know he wanted a yes-or-no answer, but the truth felt more important in this moment. “I don’t know, sir…” I breathed.
“Hm…” The noise was so small, and yet so profound as he listened to me, and really contemplated what I’d just said. That, in and of itself, sapped some of the fear away and left me feeling both hopeful and grounded.
“This dynamic isn’t for the faint of heart, Bright Eyes, so I’m going to go slow tonight.
Some night, though? The training wheels are going to come off, and I’m going to scare the living shit out of you.
But I promise, if you’re a good girl and you take it all, I’ll be the one to kiss away your tears. ”
His lips touched the side of my neck like the brush of butterfly wings, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding as I’d hung onto every single one of his words.
I ached from the dark promise of his words. I knew it was very likely absolutely batshit insane for me to want what he was offering, but damn did I want it.
“Does that sound good?” he asked beside my other ear, and I jumped, having not felt him move.
“Yes, sir,” I breathed, and I think my lack of hesitation pleased him because I could hear him smile.
“Come with me, Bright Eyes.” He turned me carefully in his grasp, and slid his fingertips down my arms, capturing my hands with his and towing me along. I stepped out of the ring of my dress carefully. It probably looked comical to him, but he didn’t laugh.
The tile of the bathroom floor was cool against my feet, but with only a step or three, it transitioned to a plush carpet that felt like it went on for days.
He turned me and backed me against the bed, much as he’d backed me against the table at The Olde Pink House, and ordered me gently, “Sit.” I sat, and his hands disappeared from mine.
I listened hard, which was honestly harder than it sounds, with the way my heart pounded and the blood swished behind my eardrums with every pulse. I faintly heard the rustle of clothing as he more than likely disrobed, and my anxiety spiked.
Shit. I was doing this! I was really doing this!
“Lie back, try and center yourself on the bed,” he ordered.
I put my hands down by my hips and pushed myself back, putting my legs up and laying my head on the pillows.
I swiped my hands over the velveteen covers and to the edges of the bed, and did my best to scoot over when my hand reached the edge on one side but not the other at first.
“Is this good?” I asked nervously and was met with a noise of disapproval.
“Ah! What did I tell you? The only thing you’re to speak right now is ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’, remember?”
I blushed. “Yes, sir…”
“That’s your one and only mistake, do you understand? Do it again, and I’ll have to suitably punish you.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, my mouth suddenly dry.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, and the bed dipped at my knee off to one side.
It was silent, for a time, but then his fingertips lightly touched the apex of my thighs, and I jumped.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “But I think I’d quite like you helpless…”
I jumped slightly as his weight shifted, and there was a rattle of chain above my head.
“Give me your wrists,” he ordered, and I hesitated for a second.
He waited me out, and I held out my wrist vaguely in the direction of his voice.
He wrapped gentle fingers around it and lifted it over my head, where satin-lined leather wrapped around it.
There was a snicking sound as he fed a tongue through the buckle on what had to be a restraint, and he worked to fasten it tightly.
“Give that a tug,” he ordered, and I did, my hand catching at the thumb joint and nearly sliding through. He adjusted it a notch and ordered, “Again.”
I wasn’t going anywhere that time.
He picked up my other hand from where it lay beside me on the bed and did the same thing.
“Do you want the blindfold on, or off, when I put myself inside you?” he asked and followed it up with, “Permission to speak.”
“On, please,” I murmured, and his hand slapped the outside of my thigh, the crack loud, and the sting immediate. I yelped and bit my bottom lip.
“On, please, what?” he asked.
“On, please, sir,” I said breathless with fright.
He rubbed the mark that he was sure to have left and remarked, “Your fair skin pinks up so pretty.”
I didn’t say anything. I mean, it felt like the right thing to say something like thank you, but I liked to think I was a quick learner.
When I remained quiet, he chuckled lightly and said, “That’s my good girl.”
I swallowed hard. So, it had been a test.
The bed shifted several times as he walked himself up on it and pushed my knees apart to get between them. A moment later, I heard the packaging rip, and him spit a fragment off to the side.
I listened, ears straining, voice likewise straining to remain quiet, as he made himself ready. I listened to the latex strain, and the crisp noise of it rolling down his length, and I could picture him, hard and straining against his slacks after he’d finished making me come at the restaurant.
My breathing picked up, his hands warm as they slid up over my ribs and cupped my small breasts. His fingers pinched my nipples and rolled them, and I bit my lips together, hoping to keep the moan trapped behind them.
I didn’t know if that would count as talking – but apparently, it did not, because he sighed out and continued to touch me, his one hand sliding further up my chest, wrapping around my throat, and squeezing.
I gasped, afraid, but he didn’t cut off my air or anything.
Instead, he just pressed me down into the bed and held me in such a way as to let me know I was indeed helpless, and he could indeed do anything he wanted to me.
I reached for him, and my hands came up short, the chains jolting against whatever held them in place.
He walked back on his knees and wrapped his powerful arms around my thighs, bodily pulling me down the bed. I yelped in surprise as much as fear, as the manacles he had me in stopped short and pulled my arms taut over my head.