Grace
Icannot tell Nate what Mother said on the phone.
He’s using every torturous technique to persuade me to share it, but I resist. The water flows into the bath while he plies me open with his tongue.
I try to lean away so I can turn the tap off, but he digs his fingers into my thighs, holding me in place.
“Nate,” I say, “the water.”
There’s only one word I need at times like these, when the only option is to let him have what he wants—and what I want, too.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He presses his tongue into places he shouldn’t, driving me fast and hard into a clenching rhythm as warm water touches my bottom.
My release accompanies the sound of a waterfall cascading to the floor.
The orgasm is perfunctory, fading fast because the position is uncomfortable and I can’t focus on the pleasure.
Shuddering, I try to reach back to turn the taps off, but Nate’s hand shoots out, seizing my wrist.
“Again,” he demands, a manic light in his eyes. The knees of his jeans are darkening as the tub continues to overflow.
“Nate, please. We’re going to damage—”
“It’s multiples or it’s nothing, Grace.”
I know this isn’t about making me come again. The water creeping towards the bedroom, my body held uncomfortably on the edge of the tub, the unsatisfying, empty orgasm—it’s about Mother’s call. It’s about control. And I know how to take it back.
I whisper my safe phrase, the words sour and slick in my throat.
Nate leans up and past me, turning off the tap without another word. Then he backs away, water sloshing around his feet. I recognise the protocol, and I feel frustrated with both of us.
“All right, Grace," he says, "the scene is done and—”
“No!” I stand, wobbling on the wet tiles.
Nate catches me, wrapping a towel efficiently around my shoulders. “We’re going to dry you off, then we can discuss why you used your safe phrase.”
I close the towel over my chest. The bathroom echoes in the wake of the tap being turned off. Naked and quaking, I wish that I’d let him continue. I’m wound too tight with tension. And guilt. And I still have to get him to agree to take me to Auckland.
“I don’t want this safe phrase thing,” I say, “and—”
“This is what happens,” he interrupts, voice rising, “after you say those fucking—”
He stops himself, turning his back to me.
He’s wet from the waist down, his jeans fully soaked.
I approach him from behind, reaching tentatively.
I’ve managed this wrong. I need to find a way to take the safe phrase back.
If he closes up on me now, there’s no way he’ll let me come with him tomorrow.
“We should get you out of these wet clothes.” I brush my fingers along his back. “You can’t be comfortable like that.”
“My comfort doesn’t matter right now.”
The words are dull. When I peer up at his expression, I see the lack of emotion in his eyes.
Mother’s accusations clang through my mind, and I wish I could decide, right now, that I don’t believe her.
I wish I could stop myself from believing that this man, whom I still want so much, would have hurt his own twin.
But I can’t. Not yet.
I lean up on my toes to press a kiss to his cheek.
He gives a low hiss and speaks from between his teeth. “Step away from me, Grace, or I swear—”
“What?” I step even closer. “Aren’t I the one in control now?”
“Fuck. Grace—”
“Why is the safe phrase so triggering for you, Nate? What can we do to fix it?”
He meets my eyes, his own glistening, and I wonder how many times we’ll make each other cry before we’re satisfied.
“We,” he growls, “are done here.”
“No.” I drop the towel, feeling myself redden at my own boldness. “We’re not done. Not even—”
He takes a long step forward, looming over me with such heat in his eyes that I shut up.
“If you remove the power of that safe phrase, nothing will keep you safe from me ever again.”
“We can just choose another phrase. Maybe a colour this time.” I look away, considering for a moment. “Red would work. Or—even better—orange. Orange is my new safe word. There. It’s done.”
There’s so much concentrated menace in his eyes that I stumble back.
Mother’s cloying voice presses around me like her suffocating perfume, reminding me that this is, in fact, the man who tricked me into marriage and seduced me into staying.
Even if I don’t trust what Mother told me, Nate’s possession reeks of dishonesty.
I need to know how far down that dishonesty goes, whether it’s beneath the foundations of our relationship—or even deeper.
“If,” he says, considering me slowly, “you change out your original safe phrase, it’s because you’re going to say it—and mean it—in its true context. So let’s hear it, Grace. Say ‘I love you, Nate’. Right now.”
Oh God…
I realise what I’ve stepped into. This isn’t about Mother. Or Auckland. Not anymore.
I bend down to get the towel, which has soaked up some of the water puddling around our feet. Nate grips the back of my neck, stopping me. I’m naked and he’s clothed and, suddenly, I’m scared.
“Nate,” I pull against his grip, trying to bend down again, “you can’t ask me to say something like that. Just… ‘orange’ is my new safeword. That’s the end of it.”
“It’s like cyber security protocol.” His other hand slides to my throat, forcing me upright. The wet towel slaps to the floor. “If you want to swap one password for another, you need to tell me that first one. Properly.”
I’m light-headed, my skin damp, my mouth dry.
“I’ll say it,” I whisper, my tongue heavy, “after you take me with you tomorrow.”
His eyes glitter. “What did your mother say to you on the phone, Graciously?”
My feet slide on the tiles as my joints give out all at once—ankles, knees, hips—but Nate catches me.
He guides me to the floor until we’re both kneeling, his hands steadying me.
He’s staring. Waiting. Totally unrepentant for bringing me down.
I feel as if my heart has dropped into my stomach, where it’s beating hard to be let out. I’m trying not to cry.
“Sh-she said I—I’m not safe with you.”
“What else, Grace?”
“That you—” I force myself to say it, “that you k-killed Nick.”
Watching his reaction, I know I’ve done it; I’ve given him enough that he won’t question me further. Nate shakes his head, his lip curled into a satisfied sneer.
“She really is a desperate old witch, isn’t she?”
His tone is dismissive, his expression, smug. I nod to pretend agreement, relief making me feel light-headed in a different way. I’m shivering in the water on the floor. It has gone cold. I make to stand up, but Nate holds me there on the tiles, his eyes flat once more.
“Did her spell work on you, Grace? Do you think you married the fratricidal twin?”
“No!”
“No,” he agrees, his smirk turning into a smile. “You’re smarter than that. Now, there’s just one more thing for you to say before we move on to your apology.”
My throat feels as if it might close up. “Will you take me to Auckland?”
“Yes, you’ve bought yourself a ticket to Auckland by telling me the truth.
Now you’re going to agree to what I want: You’ll come to the office tomorrow.
You’ll be my pretty, perfect wife. You’ll call me Daddy if I tell you to.
And when I tell you I love you, Grace, you’ll fucking answer me the way I want you to. ”
“I’m c-cold,” I whisper. “Can’t we go to the bedroom and discuss—”
“No. You made your stand here. You’ll end it here, too. Agree, and you can come with me tomorrow and we can consider the safe-word sorted.”
Shivering, I nod. This is the cost of what I need. “I agree.”
“Yes,” he answers, “you fucking do.”
He lifts me up and I wrap my arms around his neck, trying to get close, to bury myself within his warmth. I expect him to carry me to the bedroom and lay me down on the bed for the ‘apology’ he demanded, but Nate deposits me on the toilet instead.
“What—no!” I try to get up, suddenly mortified.
“It’s just for you to sit on,” he says, holding me in place. “Unless you need to go?”
“No! Nate, this—this isn’t okay and—”
“It is okay, Grace, and I’m going to tell you why.” His voice has dropped into the gravelly tone I associate with our darkest moments. “You’re going to sit on this toilet and you’re going to suck my cock as an apology for talking to your mother.”
“She called me!” I protest, grabbing his wrist. “From a private number! How could I have known it was her?”
“You,” he leans in so close that our noses touch, “listened to the bitch for sixty fucking seconds, Grace. Instead of hanging up, you let that woman talk to you. That is what you’re apologising for.
Now open your mouth nice and wide. I’m going to fuck your face until those tears taste like my come. ”
I shake my head, fear mingling with disgust. “No, I—I’ll say the new safe word. I’m—”
His grip on my hair tightens, turning painful. “You safe-word now, and that’s fine. Go ahead and do it. But you’re staying home tomorrow as your apology instead. That’s where we’re at. Do you understand me?”
I shake my head, pulling against his grip, trying to slide off the toilet.
Nate forces his way between my legs to secure me to the seat.
Humiliation layers over my disgust and fear and lust. I remember all the times I had Nick’s penis in my mouth, soft and salty.
I remember the shame when I was incapable of arousing him.
I bury my face in my hands, hiding, and Nate lets me.
He lets me cry my heart out on the toilet while he pets my hair.
“Such a sad girl,” he murmurs. “Doing things she knows she shouldn’t, then crying when it’s time to face the consequences.
It’ll be okay, Grace.” He pulls my hands aside, looking into my eyes.
“Say your colourful safe-word now, and I’ll take you to our bed and I’ll give you what you need.
I’ll even let you pretend. Then you can stay here tomorrow, nice and quiet, and I’ll come home to you like I always do. "
I feel how fully he has me trapped. He both expects and wants me to say ‘orange’ and call this off. I can’t. I have to get to Auckland tomorrow. I have to see what’s in that envelope before Nate finds it. I have to know.
“H-how long,” I ask, “do I have t-o do this?”
His breathing changes, going ragged. He’s beyond turned on and I wonder if that’ll make it hurt. I’ve never done this with an aroused partner before.
“Until I come, Grace. You are going to open your mouth and take my cock until I come down your sweet little throat.”
I look into his flat predator’s eyes. Then I nod.
“Say it. I need to hear the word.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “But I’d—I’d rather kneel on the floor, please.”
“But you look so very pretty sitting there.”
Nate shifts me more squarely onto the toilet, ensuring I can sit up properly. I realise it’s part of the punishment, and I resign myself to it.
His fingers touch my lips. “Open your mouth. Now.”
Breathing fast, I obey. I don’t know how I’ll do this. All of my crying has blocked my nose. Nate puts his fingers in my mouth, holding them flat over my tongue. I whimper when he prods further, my gag reflex activating.
“Perfect,” he mutters, pulling his fingers out.
He undoes his jeans, and I grab a wad of toilet roll to try and clean up my nose. He knocks it from my hand.
“No,” he says, his cock already approaching my lips. “You’re going to do this just as you are. You’re my messy, ruined girl until I decide otherwise. Now open up.”
I do, my mind threatening to short-circuit. I expect a hard, nasty thrust, but Nate only gives me the head. My mouth forms to it, my jaw loosening naturally. I suck, ignoring the pang of horror at the inverted familiarity.
It’s all right, I tell myself. It’s Nate. And he wants this because he loves you and he’s trying to help you get past this fear. It’s all right.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he says, his hands framing my face. “Nice and steady, love. Take your time.”
He thrusts into my mouth, shallow but gentle. I take him. I’m fine. I can do this.
“Perfect,” he says again, his fingers threading through my hair. “This is how it’ll feel whenever you regress, Grace. You’ll be scared. You’ll be sad. Then you’ll be mine.”
With the final word, he thrusts hard, cupping the back of my head for leverage. I make a startled noise as my gag reflex engages. He holds me there, not letting me move. It’s hard to breathe, and I open my mouth wider, trying to get air past his cock.
“That’s it, breathe around me.” He slips from my lips, but it isn’t a reprieve. He leans to the side slightly, then comes back with a handful of toilet roll. Shame makes me whimper as he cleans me up. “Blow your nose, now. There’s my gracious girl. Ready for more?”
I’m not. I want to go lie down in our bed and cry myself to sleep. But I shake my head. I open my mouth. Nate guides himself along my tongue, sinking deeper than before. I breathe through my newly-cleared nose, panicking when my gag reflex trips even harder.
He pulls out. “Swallow for me, Grace.”
I do. It hurts.
“That’s it. Now try again.”
I take a shaking breath when he taps my jaw, then I take him in again.
I try to control the depth, putting my palms on his thighs.
He presses deeper anyway. The toilet seat is hard and uncomfortable as I shift, trying to accommodate the weight of him in my mouth.
Tears smart as I force down the urge to vomit.
“That’s so good,” he growls, holding me steady as he thrusts. “Throat nice and relaxed, breathe through the gagging.”
I try to do as he says. It works, though my stomach is turning on itself. I manage to keep breathing. He picks up the pace, slipping fluidly through my mouth, to the back of my throat, then back.
“Oh yes,” he whispers, “look at my beautiful wife, sucking me so sweetly.”
I pant through my nose, my throat clicking with each dip of his cock. I gag again, but he doesn’t stop. My jaw aches and my nose runs as I look up at him, beseeching him through my tears.
“Almost there, Grace.” His hands tighten painfully in my hair. “Stay—fuck—stay just like that.”
His cock hits the very back of my throat—once, then again.
I almost throw up. I dig my hands into fists, forcing myself to take him, my knuckles cracking, my vision going black.
Come shoots into my throat. I swallow convulsively when Nate retreats, then gag again when he thrusts a final time.
He holds me still, my mouth open impossibly wide, my nose pressed against his pubic bone.
When he finally lets me go, I’m gasping too hard to catch my breath. I slide sideways off the toilet, saliva and semen dripping from my lips in long, glistening ropes.