12 Everett
April 28th, 2022
Fuck!
13 Olivia
April 28th, 2022
It took me a full 30 minutes to gain the strength back to walk away. Mentally, emotionally, physically.
I was confused, exhausted, angry, frustrated…
Whole.
And all I could think about, the only thing on my mind as I walked back towards that park, Lucy happy to just be on the walk again, was how good his fingers had felt, how good his lips had tasted. How amazing he had sounded talking to me like that.
I was sweating now. The cool breeze chilling my skin.
“It’s an orgasm, little writer,”
he had said, “and you have been denying yourself for far too long.”
I felt embarrassed, humiliated, and like three years of something had been stolen from me.
No, Steven wasn’t the greatest in bed, but I thought I was doing myself justice by getting myself off. Turns out I had failed at that too.
How does a woman not know how to properly give herself an orgasm? How had I spent the last three years since Steven popped my cherry ‘discovering myself’ but not actually discovering anything?
Some whore I was.
I covered my face as Lucy led us back through the park. I felt shame and guilt and like all I wanted to do was go back to that damn table and wait for the next ‘collection’ like a kid waiting for the ice cream truck to drive down their street.
I groaned and shook my head, dropping my hand. Something was wrong with me. Something was so desperately wrong with me that I should probably schedule a psyche evaluation.
What I should do, actually, was cancel that appointment tomorrow or face pure embarrassment.
God. There was something truly wrong with me. Me. I was what was wrong with me.
May 3rd, 2022
I didn’t want to go to The Club.
I mean I never wanted to go to The Club, but especially not today.
I walked several feet behind Steven this time, not because I was in pain or exhausted from giving up my coffee, but because I had no shred of desire within me that wanted to see him again.
The masked man.
The man that shifted the way I felt in this life. That shifted my entire personality, my soul, who I thought I was.
From an orgasm?
Holy shit, I was insane.
Certifiably, I was sure. From forgetting so many things, to having delusions about torture, to this? I needed to be put on medication. I was losing my mind.
I was losing my mind.
Maybe that’s what this was. I was delusional and insane. I had, somewhere along the way, hit my head hard enough to fracture my thoughts. To shatter the line between fiction and reality just like Steven said, and now here I was, living in some sort of messed up multiverse. A mirror world of where I had once lived.
I had stepped straight into my books, and I couldn’t figure out how to escape.
If I could figure out a way to put that in a book, I was sure Katie would die of excitement.
She loved every chapter I had puked up, I bet she would get a thrill out of the introduction of a multiverse in my psychological thrillers.
“Don’t worry, Katie, the books will become more psychological the further down this hole I fall.”
I was spinning into madness.
And I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to stop.
I followed Steven into The Club numbly, not caring to look around the room as I made my way to my seat. It was the same patrons as always, there was no reason I needed to look. Not this time, not ever.
Jake leaned over the counter. “You okay? Do you want a double?”
I leaned over the bar. “Yeah,”
I said on a breath. I pulled my light jacket tighter around me, letting my hair shield me from the world as he pulled his things out.
After a few seconds, Jake spoke again. “The scarf is new.”
I ignored him. I didn’t have a choice in wearing it this time even if I didn’t want to. Steven didn’t want me embarrassing him in front of the people here.
If only he would accept the fact that the people here were the ones who put it on me. Maybe then we could actually have a real conversation about it and maybe then he would stop punishing me for having it on.
Just an hour ago, it was a good slap to the face.
Yesterday, it was forcing me to fuck him only for him to trash my place looking for the key that didn’t exist before buying me dinner and telling me it wouldn’t have to be this way if I wasn’t so bubble brained.
If I couldn’t still feel the man’s fingers inside of me, Steven probably would have convinced me, yet again, that I had bought the collar, put it on myself, and lost the key.
But alas, at this point, I didn’t think there was any use in denying the fact that I was now paying off Steven’s gambling debt with my body, just like mom always wanted. Just for her debt, not Steven’s, I suppose.
Jake breathed out. “What’s going on? Steven causing you trouble? I know this is kind of a stressful thing, whatever is going on behind that curtain, but you can talk to me, I’m a good listener.”
My eyes lifted to his as he pushed my drink over. I felt them narrow, irritation blooming under my skin. “Like you don’t know.”
He was part of it, he had to be.
He straightened, genuine confusion dusting his features. “What?”
“You know what’s going on behind that curtain,”
I told him as I straightened. “Everyone in this place does. The same three people every single time I come here? Come on,”
I said, shaking my head. I took a drink. “You know what happens behind there. You know the truth, don’t play games with me.”
He watched me for a long time before leaning over the bar. “What happened?”
I rolled my eyes. “What always happens, Jake. A guy showed up and fucked everything up.”
I took another drink and set the glass down, staring into the liquid as he folded his arms and leaned onto his elbows, getting so close I could smell his cologne.
“Talk to me, it’s what I’m here for.”
My eyes lifted, and he was so close I could see the different shades of blue in his eyes. Soft and warm. Nothing like Steven’s evil wheat brown or that man’s cold silver blue. This was kind. Good. Real.
I offered the barest of smiles. So bare, I didn’t think it actually made it to my lips. “Cliché.”
He shrugged, smiling when he saw that he had broken through whatever veil had fallen over me. “Have to be to help my customers.”
I didn’t really know how old Jake was. Late 30’s, early 40’s maybe. I guess age didn’t really matter though. Before this last month, I would have said that if I hadn’t been dating Steven, maybe I would have flirted a little more with Jake, fallen into him, but now? Well, I was a fucking lousy cheating whore. I’d fuck whoever smiled at me pretty, apparently, so why not go all the way? Why not let my thoughts go?
I’d fuck Jake, I suppose. An older guy, a steady job, strong, capable. He talked to me as if I were human. And wasn’t that all it took for me? Some guy looking at me long enough. Pushing me far enough to convince me that I liked it.
Who was I kidding, I liked it the whole time. I liked everything about it. I liked the teasing, the pushing. I liked the way he forced me. I liked how he looked at me. I liked the fight. I craved that fight.
Would Jake look at me like that man did?
Could I make him look at me like that? Could I make him fight me like the man did?
Would he give me a real orgasm or would his fall short just like Steven’s?
“Tell me about the guy,”
Jake pushed when I didn’t respond. “Not Steven, I’m assuming.”
I searched those blue-gray eyes of his and found myself leaning in just a little more. I wanted that light that he had. I wanted to feel that warmth, to know what it felt like to be happy. “Not him, no,”
I told him, my eyes falling to his lips. They looked soft. Warm. Would he take advantage of me, or would he be soft and caring? Would he kiss me everywhere, unable to keep his hands off of me or would he touch where he had to and leave it at that?
No, no, he wouldn’t be so cold. Those hands would touch every single piece of me, I was sure of it.
“Liv,”
he said softly.
My eyes lifted to his, my lip falling from where I had caught it between my teeth, my cheeks warming at the sudden look of lust in his eyes. See? A prostitute just like Steven said. Only I was stupid. I was doing it for free.
I angled my chin, making sure my hair still covered the left side of my face, my eye. “It’s a scene in a book,”
I told him, watching as his eyes fell to my lips. I liked that. I liked that he looked at me like that. That he couldn’t keep his eyes off my lips. “It’s…frustrating.”
What did my lips look like to him? Were they inviting? Were they alluring? Were they everything he ever wanted but never had the guts to take?
“Oh?”
His eyes found mine again. “How?”
I shrugged. “She can’t help herself. She knows she shouldn’t, but he’s just so…”
I thought about the words carefully. “Captivating.”
It was easy. Like an addiction. I got one taste of the world outside of Steven, and I needed more. I wanted more. I wanted to be the whore he claimed I was. I…I wanted…
His throat bobbed.
Men were easy, but they never got any of the flack they always gave us. A pretty girl smiles at them and their cock gets so hard, they can’t even think. I’d be a good prostitute. I’d make millions in my first year, I was sure. I’d be the whore the pimp cherished until his dying days. His money-piece.
“She’s in a relationship?”
“Sort of.”
He had leaned closer, and I wondered if he knew that he had done it. “What did she do?”
I wanted to be the girl that made a man lose control. That made him angry because he couldn’t help himself. That made him slowly implode before he couldn’t hold back anymore and finally just…just took.
My lips parted, but the feeling I had hoped would come never did. I felt nothing. Not even a flutter. But the curiosity remained. I never considered myself the cheating type. Ever. In fact, I hated them, but goddamn. I couldn’t find the strength to leave Steven, yet here I was, toeing the line of a real and true cheat. I didn’t really have a choice with the masked man, but Jake? That would be my choice.
I was weak, wasn’t I? I was the weakest there was. Just like Steven said. Just a pathetic, weak little whore.
Before I could respond a warmth filled my space as the scent of pine and rain flooded my senses.
I slowly sat up, Jake following my motion, and looked over to find the man sitting right beside me.
I worked my jaw and turned away from him, the anger and shame boiling under my skin. Goddammit. I had almost forgotten about him.
Almost.
Jake cleared his throat and adjusted his jeans. “Usual?”
He must have nodded because Jake got right to work.
I glared at the wall of liquor behind the bar, the man’s leg falling against mine, his elbow touching my arm. I switched my legs and angled my body away from him. I couldn’t handle this.
The warmth had already started growing in the pit of my stomach, my heart skipping a beat, my breathing picking up. He had altered something in my brain, and I hated it. Sex shouldn’t alter how you think or feel. It shouldn’t have that much power.
Jake slid over his drink and headed to the other end of the bar to clean something I knew was already clean just to avoid the situation.
I glared at him. Great. Silence it was today. “Nobody will fuck you like I do,”
the man told me, taking a sip from his glass. “Stop looking other places for a fix.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need a fix. I want out of the deal and to never see you again.”
He wrapped his hand around my thigh and jerked me around, pulling a gasp from my lips, his face suddenly inches from mine. “Too bad, little writer. A deal is a deal.”
I bared my teeth at him, trying to ignore the fire blooming under my skin where he touched me, the way my pussy throbbed at the feeling of his breath against my lips, at the sight of his eyes. “It’s not a deal I agreed to,”
I seethed.
A second later, I forced myself to relax, to come off as nonchalant even as his eyes drifted to the left side of my face. I offered a sly smile and a soft shrug before I turned away from him, letting the hair fall back into place. “But men like you don’t care about that. About the word ‘no’ and ‘not interested’. It’s not something I’m unfamiliar with.”
I lifted my glass to my lips just as his found my ear. “There are no men like me,”
he hummed, a storm brewing within me. “I didn’t hear you saying no in the park when I had my tongue down your throat.”
I swallowed, every inch of me very aware of him. Of his hand sliding up my thigh, of the way his smile felt against my ear. “I s-said stop,”
I replied, my voice betraying me.
He chuckled, the sound doing something illegal to me. “And yet…”
He turned back to his drink, removing himself completely.
I closed my eyes, my thighs squeezing together as I willed the feelings to go away. And yet I remembered needing him more than I needed air. And yet I remembered needing to feel him everywhere.
And yet I pulled him closer.
I lowered my glass without taking a drink, despite the fact that my tongue was dryer than the desert. This wasn’t fair. He drugged me. He spiked my food or the drinking water in this city. Something. Because this? This wasn’t fucking normal.
My phone started ringing, causing me to jump at the sudden sound. I sneered, my face burning bright red. It had to have been my mom. Steven was behind the curtain so there was no way it was him.
I answered the phone without looking. “Hello?”
“Hey! How are you?”
I slouched over the bar, putting my forehead in my hand. “Just great, Katie.”
I lowered my voice to a bare whisper. “I told you that I’d get the chapters to you soon, okay? I’m…in the middle of something.”
“What? You already got a chapter in, you’re caught up, just don’t fall behind again, okay?”
My brows furrowed and then I rolled my eyes. I was losing my mind. “Okay, yeah. Sorry, what’s up?”
I asked, glancing towards the curtain. We hadn’t been here long, but God, I’d give anything for this to be over.
“Are you sitting down?”
I closed my eyes. “Yes, Katie, it’s part of the job description,”
I said tiredly only to wince. I didn’t mean to come off sounding so rude, but God, I needed a break. A vacation. Something that got me far away from this place.
“Okay good, because guess what?”
I could feel so many pairs of eyes on me. It seemed like everyone was watching me now, holding their breath, waiting for something to happen, and I hated it. “What?”
“We’ve commissioned someone to draw fanart and the first edits were just delivered!”
I sat straight up, suddenly wide awake, my eyes widening, my fingers finding my lips. “Are you serious?”
I asked, my heart racing. Fanart? Real fanart? For my books?
“Yes!”
she squealed. “They are so good! It’s only for two of your books right now; The Unforgettable Rose, and The Glass Sea, but I swear, this is exactly how I pictured your characters. Next is an entire line of merchandise! I’m sending you the pictures now!”
I ripped the phone from my ear and pulled up her messages, refreshing and refreshing until the pictures finally started coming through.
My characters.
My characters.
My characters actually come to life.
I pressed my lips into a line and put the phone back to my ear, tears filling my eyes. “I love them,”
I said, not allowing myself to smile, to react more than I already had. It could fall through. It could be a part of my delusions. Her publishing company could burn to the ground in the next five minutes. Anything could happen, there was no need to get overly excited about it yet. Not yet.
“And one last thing before I go. Now, it’s not official yet, okay? So don’t get your hopes up, but The Unforgettable Rose has caught the sights of a movie producer.”
I swallowed, my brain unable to process the information. “No, it hasn’t.”
She laughed. “It has! Congratulations! Pop some wine or something! I’ll keep you updated!”
What. The. Fuck.
“Thank you.”
I hung up and carefully set my phone face down on the bar.
Fanart.
A movie?
I glanced back towards the curtain, gripping the edge of the bar. I could already hear his voice. “You misheard, Olivia. Nothing like that could ever happen to you. She said something else. You’re just too wired on caffeine to hear it.”
I swallowed, turning back to my drink. He was right, wasn’t he? I could have misheard. I didn’t have good reception here. I’ve had a drink. My eyes fell to the drink. A few sips. Enough to alter my train of thought.
“Why would anyone like your books anyway? All you write about is serial killers and porn. It’s disgusting.”
I wrapped my hand around the glass and nodded. Cheers, Steven. I took a long drink. It was just another thing, wasn’t it? A delusion, right? After everything I had done these last few weeks, something that good didn’t happen to a person like me. I had too much to drink, that was it. I probably didn’t even actually answer the phone, did I?
Had I?
I glanced at my phone, face down on the bar, my brows furrowing. Had I picked it up? No, of course I hadn’t. Katie had told me two days ago that she was going on vacation herself for a few days. To visit her grandmother. She wouldn’t have interrupted that for me.
“Not all good things can be stolen.”
I looked over, taking in how tense the man was. His shoulders were rigid, his knuckles white around the glass, his jaw set, his eyes hard.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head, turning back to my drink. “Says the man who is terrified to show his face anywhere.”
I finished my glass and gestured to Jake who was completely avoiding this part of the bar now which annoyed the shit out of me.
He eyed the man as he walked over, and he silently made me another drink, meeting my eyes only once before sliding my glass over and returning to the other end of the bar. He didn’t even bother giving me a new glass this time, which he always did. A trait I found irritating and nice at the same time.
I scoffed, shaking my head. “Great, another controlling shadow lurking over my shoulder,”
I mumbled, and took another drink.
“Fear isn’t the same as control, little writer,”
he hummed. “He fears me, you don’t, yet I control you.”
I glanced towards the curtain again. “I’m terrified of you,”
I replied, turning back to my drink. “You just won’t accept that.”
“If you were so terrified, you wouldn’t have taken that phone call right next to me. You would have ignored it. You wouldn’t have let me hear the name of your publisher or see the pictures of the art someone made for your books. That’s a lot of information to give a man like me.”
I stilled, my eyes finding his. He was a delusion too, so none of what he said proved anything.
He was already looking at me, those silver-blue eyes glowing. “You wouldn’t have let me see that grimace of a smile you swallowed down when you got the good news. If you were terrified of me, you wouldn’t have let me see you look at that curtain and convince yourself that it was all in your head. You should be terrified, and I will make sure you are every chance I get, but you, Olivia, are not terrified.”
I searched his eyes, my brows furrowing. “I don’t…”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. “No, no, you’re lying. You misheard.”
“Let yourself feel it.”
Why was he being so fucking nice? I hated that. I hated this.
I shot a glare at him. “I’m not listening to my crazy, delusional, psychotic stalker tell me what to do,”
I bit, uncaring who heard. “You’re a fucking coward, you know that?”
I spat, watching his eyes darken. “With your stupid mask and your stupid suits. Who even wears a suit to a fucking park? Crazy people. You can’t even show your face to the bartender who probably already knows what you look like because this club is so goddamn exclusive, it’s pathetic. You’re the pathetic one, not me. You are. Not me.”
He watched me carefully, such rage burning in the depths of those eyes. Rage that crashed against mine like the sea against the cliffs. Except his was the sea and mine was the cliffs, slowly chipping away, eroding, sliding into the ocean until there was nothing left to crash against.
“I never said you were,”
he said quietly.
My eyes widened and I quickly turned back to my drink. Dammit. Dammit. He got in my head.
Of course he did, he was a figment of my fucked-up imagination.
I took a drink and closed my eyes. I needed to leave. I had to go.
The man leaned in again. “If you want to fight, then let’s fight,”
he said, causing a chill to run down my spine. “I can take you back to the basement,”
he told me, sliding his hand back over my knee.
I clenched my jaw, fire erupting across my skin, my pussy throbbing like the thirsty whore it was.
“I can tie you back down to that chair,”
he went on, easing the hem of my dress up, “get the ice.”
I clenched my thighs together, feeling his warm hand move up my thigh, over it. “Rather that than you touching me,”
I said through my teeth, jerking my legs from his grip.
But his hand only tightened, digging into my skin. He jerked me closer and forced my thighs apart, sliding his hand between my them. “I don’t think that’s true,”
he hummed, looking at the wall in front of him.
I tried to pull my leg back, fold them back together without causing a scene, but I couldn’t. He was too strong, and my need was too much.
“You see,”
he went on, sliding his hand up between my thighs until he grazed over my already soaking thong, “I think you liked it.”
I gripped my glass, pressing my lips into a thin line as my hips rocked forward on their own.
“I think you liked the bite of the cold.”
He slowly pushed my underwear to the side, grazing the tip of his finger against my entrance. “The thought of getting caught any second. You liked the way I controlled you.”
My hair fell to curtain my face, a breath escaping me as he slid a finger inside of me. Oh, shit. “This isn’t the place to take your payment,”
I bit out, although my voice sounded husky and out of breath.
“I already told you,”
he said, working another finger in as he moved them in and out, “I’ll take it whenever and however I want, and where better than here? Where anyone could see and know exactly what’s happening. You don’t get the privilege of control anymore.”
I released my glass and grabbed the edge of the bar, tilting my hips up, a breath escaping me when his fingers hit that spot. Jake would see. The patrons would see, but God, I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t even breathe right.
And honestly, the thought of them watching me, watching what they could never have, it only made my pussy throb.
“Maybe I’ll use wax next time,”
he mused as that whirl of heat and electric currents built under my skin. “Maybe I’ll tie you down on that concrete floor and coat your tits and wet cunt in hot wax.”
A strangled whimper escaped me at the thought.
“Over your neck, your chest, those pretty hips of yours.”
My nails dug into the wood of the bar, nothing else existing but the world he was putting in my head.
“You liked that fire so much, maybe we’ll have some more fun with it.”
It had hurt terribly, but he was right, it had made me feel something. The fire, the ice, the pain from my feet going numb, when he had pressed those cubes against my lower stomach. I had felt it. His hard cock. I had felt it just before he lifted himself and sat on his own hand. I knew he loved doing it. Torturing me. He got off on it. He got off on choking me, on causing me pain, and I was addicted to it too.
I wanted to kiss him, to touch him. I needed more than this. More.
I released the bar and grabbed his hand, not to guide him, just to feel the muscles work under his skin as he finger-fucked me in his club.
I covered my mouth with my other hand, my entire body tensing as I fought the urge to grind against him. I was going to—
I pressed my hand against my mouth, plugging my nose as it shook through me in aching waves. Over and over again, the vibrations running up my spine, causing goosebumps to erupt across my skin. I kept hold of his hand, keeping it there, feeling his muscles contracting under my fingers as his motions slowed. His hand felt so good. Not just inside of me, but in my hand too.
My hands were so small compared to his. He consumed me completely.
I looked over, peeking at him through strands of hair, trying to catch my breath, and he was watching me, his pupils dilated, his eyes locked on me in a way that made me feel as if he was never going to look away. No matter where he was, where I was, I would always feel him right there. Watching me. For however long I lived, I would feel his eyes on my skin.
It brought me some semblance of comfort and I knew it shouldn’t have. This shouldn’t be happening.
I swallowed and slowly eased his fingers out of me, eased his hand away before pulling my hand back, fixing my skirt, and wrapping both of my hands around my glass. What was wrong with me?
I was just a cheating whore. Steven couldn’t have been more than 50 feet away and here I was, letting this…this…man finger me.
“Another debt paid,”
he hummed, pulling my eyes back.
I watched as he took another drink, the shame coating my skin. Another debt paid. Another installment.
He was sadistic.
A sadist.
And I was giving myself over like a starving dog, lapping up the bits! I mean who else had he fucked with those fingers last night, and I was just letting it happen? So drunk on him that I didn’t even consider shouting at Jake, begging for help.
I should have yelled. I should have screamed. I should have done somethi—
The curtain ripped back, and I sat straight up, my heart racing. Shit, that was too close. Way too close.
Yet the thrill that it sent across my skin was fucking exhilarating. Seconds sooner and he would have caught us. Seconds sooner and he would have seen me in the middle of an orgasm he could never give me himself. Seconds sooner and I would have been punished worse than ever before.
A punishment I wholly deserved.
I looked over, Steven walking up, a smile on his face. Relief filled me and then disdain. No beating, but there would be other things.
Steven took me in. “Are you getting sick? You look flushed.”
“Nope, just hot in here.”
The lie tasted horrible on my lips.
His smile widened and he grabbed my hand, pulling me from the stool. “Good, I don’t want to smell sick on you when I fuck you tonight.”
Perfect.
A crack sounded behind me as Steven dragged me to the door and I looked back just in time to see that the man’s glass was suddenly leaking from the cracks that now littered the sides of it.
I frowned, letting Steven pull me out the door. Those glasses didn’t just crack. It was almost impossible for that to happen. They must have been worn thin from Jake’s constant drying.
I rolled my eyes and turned back to Steven. Ever since that first night in the alley, I had compared them. Everything Steven did and said, how he caused my body to react. It disgusted me.
Everything about him made me want to throw up, but even as the thought of leaving him simmered through my mind, it brought with it a type of terror I hadn’t felt before. Not even when I had been tied to that chair in the basement.
This was different. I don’t know why, and I hated everything about it, but it was different. I wanted to leave him, but I physically couldn’t, and I think I hated myself more than anything else in the world because of that simple fact.
I was trapped. Like a feral cat in a cage. Claws snapped off, teeth shaved down. There was no escape. Not for me.
Never for me.