20 - Damaged Goods
MF / BDSM / Dom/sub / Humiliation / Orgasm Control / Toys
“Get away from me!” I yelled.
Chris stood above me, a terrifying sight.
His body bristled with anger, his face twisted with rage.
It was always like this when he had the monster inside him, but it had never been this bad.
I’d always been able to talk him down. Now I was cowering on my knees before him, holding my hands up, pleading with him to walk away and not hurt me.
I couldn’t help but think this wasn’t what love should be. This wasn’t what a relationship should be. How the hell was I going to get out of this?
His fists clenched, and I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the impact of his fist against my face.
I could almost feel the pain blazing around me already.
I was trying to think of how I was going to explain this to Mom and Dad, but fuck, he was going to want to get back at Chris, and I didn’t want Dad to get hurt.
This was madness. I’d heard stories about people who got beat by their men, and I always swore that it would never happen to me, that if it did, I would find a way to tell the truth, but now I was trying to hide it because I was so damned ashamed.
When the blow didn’t come, I opened my eyes a crack and saw him standing there, as though he was debating what to do. As though my fate rested in his hands.
“Please, Chris …” I repeated, my voice a weak, pitiful whimper that only served to make me hate myself.
He curled his lip, snarling. He looked more like an animal than a man.
I almost wished that he would just take me and do whatever he wanted to me, as long as he didn’t beat me.
At least that was kind of okay. He was my boyfriend after all.
At least I could justify that to myself, and maybe I wouldn’t suffer any trauma.
But then he just left me. He left me whimpering and shaking, and it didn’t seem as though there was any remorse in him at all.
He just left me.
I was a wreck, and as soon as I got out of there, I wept so many tears that I thought I was going to flood the world.
***
“Excuse me. Are you Nadia?” he asked, smiling.
He had a thick head of brown hair that was swept back, and a clean shaven face with a kind smile and kind eyes.
He smelled good, too; the spicy scent of his aftershave dancing in the air.
He wore a plaid shirt, which was open at the collar, revealing a tuft of chest hair.
The sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms. He looked strong. He looked good.
I hoped he liked what I was wearing. I had tied my hair into a ponytail that swung like a pendulum toward the middle of my back.
The top I had chosen was white, and it fastened at my neck, leaving my shoulders exposed.
I wore a short skirt, and I noticed the way his eyes quickly drifted down, drinking everything in.
I felt a spike of attraction, even though I wasn’t sure how this was going to go.
It was my first date since I had broken up with Chris, which had been about four months ago.
I’d just been lost in thought, my mind going back to that horrible day, as it so often did.
I kept trying to stop myself, but it never seemed to work.
It was as though my mind was a yoyo, and it would never leave the past behind.
I hated it.
All I wanted was to move on. Christ … he hadn’t even hit me, and I was acting as though I was the victim of something.
I guess I was. I had to face the facts. I had never been as scared as I had been before him, and when he had called me the following day with his usual apology about how he was so sad and how he promised he would never drink that much again, well, I knew that if I didn’t tell him it was over then, it might cost me my life.
He was always getting closer and closer to doing something unforgivable, and I owed it to myself to stay strong.
I didn’t tell Mom and Dad why it was over, though.
Not the real reason, anyway. Maybe they sensed it because they didn’t press me for details after I said we just didn’t want the same things.
Now I was forcing myself to get back out there.
I’d only signed up to online dating to fill the time, figuring that speaking to other guys might help distract me from the horrible thoughts that I was currently suffering from.
It did, to a point, but then they always wanted to meet, and I just wasn’t ready.
I felt bad for leading them on, but what else was I supposed to do?
I just felt lost. That was … until I started speaking to Dan.
I don’t know what it was about him, but from the first moment he messaged me, I could feel this energy surging through the air, as though he was in control and knew exactly what was going to happen next.
He was refreshing to talk with, as well, never repeating the same questions that I had heard a hundred times over.
It felt as though I could tell him anything, not that I had.
He had told me certain things, as well, things that made me trust him.
When he suggested meeting for a drink, I thought, Why not?
I was going to have to get back out there at some point, so why not with him?
He sat beside me at the bar. Our legs touched, and they remained touching for the rest of the evening.
Our eyes locked, and they never left each other.
It was an instant connection, the likes of which I had never felt before.
I was only twenty-one. He was a little older.
Maybe that’s what I needed, I thought, someone who was settled in life and knew what they were doing.
He bought me a drink, and we toasted to meeting new people.
I was a little nervous, but he put me at ease. He had a charming sense of humor and filled the silence with meaningful glances and sly smiles. There was something going on in his mind, something that I couldn’t quite figure out. But I loved it all the same.
We spoke about everything and nothing, and he thankfully avoided the pitfall of asking me about my romantic history.
I was dreading it. I always dreaded it. I didn’t want to lie, but at the same time, I didn’t want to appear to be some vulnerable girl who had been abused, especially because no punches had been thrown. I was just scared; that was all.
Anyway, I forced myself to be in the moment. The last thing I wanted was to drift off on a tangent of the past.
It was easy to focus on Dan. He had a hearty laugh, and when I spoke to him, I really felt he listened.
I kept feeling his leg pressing against mine, as well, always wondering if he was going to take it away.
I kept wondering if he was going to try anything else, perhaps slip a hand upon my thigh.
I wasn’t sure what I would have done if he had tried that. Maybe I wouldn’t have done anything.
“How is online dating going for you? Have you been on many dates?” I asked, figuring that I might as well try to see if I had any competition.
He gave me a sheepish smile. “Actually, I’ve been on quite a few.
I like to meet people face to face to see if there’s a connection.
It turns out that I’ve had a lot of first dates, but not very many second or third, and that’s nothing to say that the women I’ve met haven’t been pleasant, or charming, or beautiful; it’s just that I haven’t felt that right vibe, do you know what I mean? ”
“I think I know. So, what kind of girl are you looking for, then? If you’ve been on so many dates already, then you must know,” I said, wondering if I was just going to be another number added to the list of girls who hadn’t met his expectations.
It must have been a challenge to capture his attention.
“I think I’ll know her when I see her,” he said, and he flashed me that charming, enigmatic smile again.
I saw the twinkle in his eyes and knew what he was implying—that I was that girl.
But, was I? There was so much he didn’t know about me, so many secrets that I had locked in my soul.
I wasn’t even sure if I could be with anyone again.
“And, what about yourself?” he asked.
“Actually, you’re the first guy I’ve met,” I said.
“Really?” He arched his eyebrows with surprise.
“Yeah, I don’t make a habit of meeting strangers off the internet,” I said, trying to make a joke of it, as though there was something wrong with it.
He tilted his head, though, and I wondered if I had offended him. After all, he had just said that he went on a lot of dates.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, well, it’s a bit like you, really. I’m choosy. I didn’t want to meet anyone unless I felt like there was a connection. To be honest, I wasn’t really sure what to expect from tonight.”
“Well, I hope it’s been a pleasant surprise,” he said, and when he smiled, I knew that everything was going to be all right.
The evening at the bar drifted around us. People came to share drinks and meals, and then they left. We were like the anchor that held the whole thing together. I had work the following morning, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to leave until Dan said so.
I listened to his smooth, deep voice. It rolled around me like a gale through a canyon, and the more he spoke, the closer I felt to him.
It was then that I noticed his hand resting on my thigh.
I had no idea when that had gotten there, but I didn’t mind it at all.
I just smiled and enjoyed the feeling of his strong hand resting there, his thumb touching my bare skin.
Heat flared within me, and I remembered how exhilarating this feeling could be, the sense of being on a precipice, ready to throw myself down and tumble into an abyss of pleasure and delight and …
The barman came to us and told us that they were closing.
“I guess that brings our night to a close,” Dan said. “Would you like a ride home?”
I nodded.