Every time he took me harder, faster, taking from me with a ruthless need, I came violently. He was everything I wanted. It was perfect. But everything I've been running from smacked me hard in the face early this morning. I swallow thickly, the lust disappearing and the shame creeping in. He rolled over and pulled my back into his chest. He fucked me from behind, but he was tender. He was gentle. He kissed my neck, and I had to close my eyes and pretend. The pleasure stopped. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't get off. I feel shitty, having been so aroused moments before, and enjoyed being used for his pleasure. But then numb to him.
The truth is, I want more of his roughness. I've always needed that. My heart clenches and I pull away from the window, pulling my hobo bag into my lap and holding it against my chest. I feel hollow inside. How disturbed am I that he couldn't make me cum? I had to fake it when he told me to cum with him. For fuck's sake, I'm living a fantasy. But even this morning when he threw me on the bed and fucked me like I wanted, the only thing my body craved, I couldn't get the fact that I'm broken out of my head. Fuck, it hurts.
I feel sick about it. I just don't understand it. It makes me fear that I'll never be normal and that this experience will only serve to show how depraved and fucked up I am in the head. I bite the inside of my cheek and pull out my phone. I should call Dr. Andrews. I cringe at the thought. I know there's doctor-patient confidentiality, but what's she going to think about this arrangement? Whore. I lean my head back against the seat as the bus goes over a bump and jostles me slightly. She's going to think I'm whoring myself out. I run my hand down my face and try to ignore those thoughts that keep me weighed down with guilt and shame. All I need to do is concentrate on the way I felt alive under him.
I'm pulled out of my musing as the bus comes to a stop in front of the Explicit Designs building. Wincing, I get up from my seat and head inside, swallowing the lump that's growing in my throat. In the lobby, I try to pick up speed, but I'm forced to take it slow. I don't want to draw attention to my awkward gait.
Damn you, Lucian.
A small smile accompanies me as I walk slowly, reveling in the slight sting that's directly connected to my throbbing clit. It takes me a while, but I make it up to my office without incident. Once inside the not-nearly-as-private-as-I-need-it-to-be office, I take off my coat, and set it down on my glass-top desk, letting out a shiver. It's brutal outside.
Which reminds me; it's winter break, and my tuition is due. At first the reminder sends a jolt of worry through me, but then I remember the money. I have enough coming to me at the end of the month to eliminate my debt and pay off my final semester's tuition. The thought should fill me with shame and trigger the whore comments I've been hearing in my head, but it doesn't. I know what I'm doing some people might consider degrading, but I don't really care. I would want this regardless of the money. That has to count for something.
I set my purse down on the desk and bring my cup of coffee to my lips. I blow on it out of habit, but it's cold by now. I don't mind though; I just need the caffeine to get me through the day. I check my email and then get started working on Debra's scheduling for her upcoming fashion show. I spend most of the day doing clerical work, getting up several times to go to the bathroom to apply aloe vera to my sore ass cheeks. Lucian told me to, and each time there's less and less of a sting that accompanies it.
Around closing time, I get a surprise when Carla, who I haven't seen all day, pops her head in the doorway, causing me to jump in my seat. I put my hand to my chest and breathe out a slight sigh of relief.
"Hey chica, how's your day going?" She's gorgeous today in tight red jeans that hug her curves and a white button-up shirt, complete with glossy red heels. I absolutely love the outfit. It makes her look like she's ready for a red-hot, sexy Christmas. All she's missing is a red Santa cap.
Carla grins at the slight pain on my face from moving in my seat. She knows exactly where it's coming from, too. The bitch. "Just fabulous," I reply, with a blush heating my cheeks. I want to tell her everything, but I'm nervous about the NDA. I should ask Lucian. Or maybe I shouldn't. … shit. I don't know what to do.
"If not for the sore ass?" Carla jokes. It's honestly not that bad. It's certainly acted as a reminder of who I belong to though.
I scowl at her, but I can only hold it for a second before I laugh. "Shut up! Please." I have to resist rolling my eyes. "You wouldn't be talking if you were in my shoes."
Carla chuckles, shaking her head and then walks in, her heels clicking with each step, and sits down across from me. "Bet you I would. You forget honey, I'm a pro at being a Sub and have had many rough sessions." She smirks deviously. "Let's just say my ass can take a heavy pounding."
I huff out a short chuckle. It's weird hearing Carla talk like this, even after all this time. I would've never guessed she was such a sexual fiend before she revealed her secret to me. I suspect it's going to take some time before I ever get used to it. If I ever get used to it.
She's so different here at work in front of others. It's like two split personalities. But then again, people would probably say the same about me if they knew I was a member of Club X.
"Well?" Carla asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I frown with confusion. "Well what?"
She smacks her hand on the desk. "Details! You said you'd give me details." She leans forward and places her chin in her palm, greedy for the juicy gossip.
I hesitate. I'm not sure I want to tell her everything, especially the part about me not being able to get off. Part of me is screaming to confide in her. She's obviously a woman who would understand, right? But no one has ever understood. No one. Not my ex, not my mother. They knew, but they didn't understand. It's a problem. It's the only thing on the tip of my tongue. I want advice. I want help. I take in a short breath, but I can't say the words.
I try to school my expression and not show the pain that's squeezing my chest. Everything was perfect yesterday. I should be happy. I should be thrilled to tell her about Lucian. Instead all I can think about is the one moment this morning that was anything but alright.
"Dah?" Carla sounds concerned and my eyes snap to her, shutting down the negative thoughts. "Did he hurt you?" she barely breathes the words, fear evident in her eyes.
"No!" I'm quick to get that thought out of her head. I shake my head as I say, "No, no, it was … unbelievable." She looks at me for a moment, taking in my expression and posture.
Taking a deep breath, I tell her everything about this past week, except that one moment early this morning.
Carla grins, her chest heaving, her breathing ragged. She doesn't appear to notice my anxiety and seems to have gotten worked up over my tale. "I'm so glad you liked it. Sounds like Lucian really knows his stuff." She shakes her head with wonder. "And you safe worded him and everything."
"Is that bad?" I ask her in a hushed voice. I didn't want to. I wanted to be perfect for him, but it was just too much. He said it was good though. I really believed him when he told me he wanted me to tell him if I was at my limit.
Carla shakes her head, her eyes shining with a hint of awe and says, "No, it's good to know each other's boundaries."
Her words summon the image of Lucian spanking me, leaving red marks on my ass and my breathing quickens. That. That power. That control. It's that which I crave above all else.
"My only problem is … " I snap my mouth shut, shocked at how close I came to thinking out loud. Holy fuck. How did I almost tell her? Is that even a boundary? I pick at my nails and look past her and out the window of my little office.
Carla eyes me curiously. "Your only problem is what?"
Her eyes on me force me to look back at her, my mind racing with excuses, unsure what to say. I shouldn't tell her. But it's right on the tip of my tongue. Maybe I should give her a chance and just tell her. She might understand.
But if she doesn't? What then?
That thought alone scares me above all else, and it hardens my position. I'm not telling Carla shit.
"Nothing," I say, shaking my head and flashing her a nervous smile. "It's nothing really."
Carla isn't buying it. "C'mon," she gestures with a manicured finger at me. "You can't just leave me hanging like that. You have to tell me."
"No," I say firmly. "Really, it's nothing." Her ensuing scowl causes me to sigh and I say, "Fine. I was just going to say I wish it didn't have to end in a month." I'm surprised by how easily that lie came out.