Chapter 9 #2
This isn't like me. I'm not some lovesick teenager pining after a crush. I'm a grown man who knows precisely what he wants and how to get it. So why does my chest feel tight every time I think about her smile?
I compel myself to concentrate on my computer screen, diving into spreadsheets and emails with a vengeance, but despite the hours that pass, I hardly accomplish anything. Frustrated, I decide to call it quits for the day.
As I exit my office, I nearly collide with Juno in the hallway.
She's carrying a basket of laundry, and the sudden encounter causes her to stumble. Without thinking, I reach out to steady her, my hands grasping her waist. There it is again, that jolt I can’t understand.
She sleeps in my bed. I fuck her whenever I like.
I use her for my pleasure, however I see fit.
So why is this simple, stupid contact affecting me like this?
"Oh gosh! I'm so sorry," she gasps, her eyes wide. We're so close I can feel her breath on my face, count the freckles dusting her nose.
For a moment, I'm frozen, lost in the depths of her gaze. Then reality crashes back in, and I release her abruptly, stepping back. "Watch where you're going," I snap, harsher than I intend.
Juno flinches, dropping her eyes. "Yes, Sir. It won't happen again."
God, I’m a dick.
I want to say something, to soften my words, but I can't find the right phrases. Instead, I watch as she hurries past me, the scent of her shampoo lingering in the air.
"Freaking hell!" Cursing under my breath, I head to the kitchen. I should just punish her for the misdemeanor, although it’s not like I need an excuse. She’s mine to do with as I will; but something about it doesn’t sit right with me anymore.
I plow my fingers through my hair, leaving it on end.
It’s just my state of mind. I know better than to play when my head’s not in the game.
What I need is a stiff drink. But as I pour myself a generous measure of Macallan 12, I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror above the mantle.
I look... unsettled. Troubled, even. This isn't me.
I'm not the kind of man who gets... flustered over a woman.
I'm not the kind of man who questions himself or his motives.
And yet, here I am, downing whiskey like it's water and trying to make sense of the turmoil in my head. I screw my eyes shut, inhaling deeply. The burn of alcohol down my esophagus does little to calm my disturbing thoughts, and I’m a guy who’s used to disturbing thoughts…
though usually for completely different reasons.
When I open my eyes again, it's in time to see Juno dusting the bookshelves, her movements graceful and efficient.
I study her for a moment, mesmerized by the sway of her hips, the delicate arch of her neck as she reaches up to clean a high shelf.
, the way her ass cheeks peek out from the hem of her ridiculously short uniform.
I drain my glass, the whiskey no longer providing the numbing effect I crave. I’m going soft. What I need to do is use her the way I always planned and work this stupidity out of my system by taking it out on her delectable body.
I set my glass down with more force than necessary and stride over to her. She tenses as she hears my approach, turning to face me with wary eyes.
"Sir?" she asks, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
Without a word, I grab her wrist and pull her into the bedroom. Once inside, I waste no time in stripping her out of that tantalizing uniform. My hands shake a little as I undo the buttons, and I curse inwardly at my lack of control.
Finally, Juno stands before me, naked and trembling. I drink her in, my eyes roaming over every curve and dip of her body. She's exquisite, and out of the blue, I'm hit by a possessive urge so strong it nearly takes my breath away.
"On the bed," I command in a voice rough with desire.
Juno obeys without hesitation, climbing onto the mattress and positioning herself on her hands and knees.
She’s learned well and seeing her so willing and submissive should be enough to banish these confusing thoughts from my mind.
But as I approach the bed, I find myself hesitating, wondering why I suddenly feel conflicted, and that just fuels my annoyance.
I shake my head. I need to focus on the task at hand, on reclaiming my control over both Juno and myself. I climb onto the bed behind her, running my hands over the smooth expanse of her back. She shivers at my touch, and I feel a surge of satisfaction.
I don’t bother undressing. Instead, I reach around and grasp her nipples in a brutal pinch.
Juno yelps, her body tensing. I’ve been going too easy on her. It’s time that changed. Twisting the tight nubs harder, I relish her whimper of pain. This is what I need; to reassert my dominance and lose myself in the physical sensations.
"You're mine to do what I like with," I remind her, pressing my clothed body against her bare skin. "Don't forget that."
But even as I say the words, I'm not sure who I'm trying to convince - me or her. I release her and grab a nasty set of alligator clamps from the tray beside the bed.
Attaching them to Juno's already abused buds, I savor her sharp cries. The metal teeth bite into her sensitive flesh, but I’m not done. Feeling particularly vicious, I add a chain and a weight to each clamp, dropping them without care so she screams, her body jerking in response.
I swat away my qualms; they don’t belong here.
"This is what you're here for," I remind her, my voice harsh. "To please me; to take whatever I dish out."
Or maybe I’m reminding myself.
Making sure she’s positioned so the weights swing freely, I choose my most savage flogger. This one doesn’t give a nice, thuddy massage. The falls are thin and whippy.
I crack the flogger through the air, watching Juno flinch at the sound. Her body tenses in anticipation as I bring it down across her back, leaving angry red welts in its wake. Her cries bounce off the walls as she twists her fingers in the sheets.
The familiar rush of power courses through me as I rain down blows, alternating between her back, ass, and thighs. The weights on her nipple clamps swing wildly with each impact, amplifying her agony. Her cries turn to sobs, but I don't let up.
This is what I wanted, isn't it? To use her, to hurt her, to glory in my domination of her. So why does every stroke of the flogger feel hollow? Why does her suffering fail to satisfy me the way it used to?
I grit my teeth, swinging harder. Juno's body jerks and trembles beneath me. I can see the moment she starts to drift into subspace, her eyes glazing over as she retreats into herself. It should please me, knowing I've pushed her to this point. Instead, I feel a twinge of... something.
Regret? Impossible.
Annoyed, I throw the flogger aside, my breath heaving as I stare down at Juno's marked body. What am I doing? This isn't giving me the satisfaction I crave. If anything, it's making me feel worse.
I gently remove the nipple clamps, wincing at her whimper of pain as blood rushes back to the abused flesh. My hand trembles as I stroke her back, feeling the raised welts left by the flogger. I know I’ve gone too hard on her, and I hate myself for it.
"Shh, it's over," I whisper, ignoring the tenderness in my voice. "You did well."
Gradually she focuses her glazed eyes on me. There's confusion in her expression, and something else I can't quite identify. Gratitude? Affection? The thought makes my gut churn uncomfortably.
I help her lie down, positioning her on her stomach to avoid putting pressure on her welts. As I grab some lotion to soothe her skin, it occurs to me how small and vulnerable she looks. It stirs something protective in me, an emotion I neither want nor understand.
It unnerves me all the more.
Perhaps I should just send her home now… except I know I won’t. I crave her too much.
I run my hands down her sides, feeling the tremors running through her. Fingering her sex, I'm not surprised to feel how wet she is. Despite her fear, her body responds to mine. Or perhaps because of it.
I push two fingers inside her, pumping them in and out, but all the while hyper aware of her comfort.
Juno whimpers, her hips rocking against my hand involuntarily. I curl my fingers, finding the spot that makes her gasp.
"You like this, don't you?" I growl, leaning over her to speak directly into her ear. "You like being used."
I need to hear it for reasons I refuse to acknowledge.
Her breath comes in short pants as she frantically nods, and I withdraw abruptly, leaving her empty and wanting. "Sir?" She whines in disappointment and I hush her while I strip out of my clothes.
Then, positioning myself behind, I encourage her onto her knees again, keeping Juno's shoulders on the bed.
Shards of my dreams flicker through my mind as I wind her hair around my fist and guide my achingly hard cock to her wet cunt.
Without preamble, I drive into her, groaning at the tight heat enveloping me.
Juno's pitiful cries are torn from her throat every time I slam into her as I set a punishing pace, my thighs slapping against her welted ass with each thrust. I want to drive out every confusing thought, every unwelcome emotion, replacing them with nothing but raw, animal lust.
But it's not working. Even as I pound into her, my mind refuses to quiet. I can't stop thinking about the way her eyes sparkled earlier. It's infuriating.
I grip Juno's hips harder, trying to focus solely on the physical sensations. The slap of skin on skin, her muffled cries, the way her body clenches around me - it should be enough. It always has been before. But now, unbidden images of her smile, her laughter, keep intruding.
Growling in frustration, I pull out and flip her onto her back, ignoring the grimace that contorts her delicate features. I need to see her face, to remind myself that this is just about sex, about power. Nothing more.
As I plow back into her, our eyes lock. There's pain there, yes, but also something else. Something that makes my chest tighten uncomfortably. I try to look away, but I can't.
"Tell me you want this," I demand, my voice harsh. I know I’m repeating myself, but something is driving me. "Tell me you're mine."
Juno's lip’s part, her breath coming in short gasps. "I... I want this," she whispers. "I'm yours."
The words should satisfy me, should fuel my desire. Instead, they leave me feeling hollow. Because for the first time, I want her to say them because she means it, not because I insist she does.
And I can’t help wondering if I want her to be mine in ways that go beyond our contract.