Explicit should have been different. Venice should have been different. But they weren’t, and here I was, on the edge of bailing again, only this time I had nowhere to go, nowhere else I wanted to be.
I slipped between two buildings, ducking under an overhanging ledge to escape the rain. I wasn’t ready to go back yet, not to the bar and Topaz’s well-meaning questions, and certainly not to Andy. My heart was thumping, and my brain was already cycling through my options. A train down south, back home to Mum and Dad’s. Maybe I could head west, over to my sister Karen’s place in the Cotswolds, she’d been harping on for a visit. But everything I owned was at Andy’s place, and I always travelled light but travelled essential. I couldn’t just bail without so much as a spare pair of panties. That would be a whole new all-time low.
Vincent would still find me, regardless of what move I made. Andy probably not, I imagined he’d breathe a sigh of relief and change the locks the moment I was through the door, but Vincent was a different beast. A more persistent beast. A more invested beast.
I hate Cynthia and Richard. I hate Cynthia, specifically. The full realisation of just how much I hate them comes rarely, but when it comes it makes me feel sick, like I could lose my shit and go all batshit on them, tell them to get out of my fucking home, and my fucking life, and my fucking Vincent. Only I don’t. That would never do. That would never please Vincent, and Vincent’s word is law.
Today there is hope. It feels beautiful, like sunlight through rain. Vincent will love me today, above all others. Above them. Oh, how good that feels.
I’m not even nervous today, it matters not how crazy shit gets, or how many guests I have to entertain with my pussy, or even how brutal things can get in the name of love. Today I will be loved by him, and it won’t be in secret, and it will be fucking wonderful.
I’m ready when Vincent comes for me. He looks divine in black, like a dark God, tailored in luxury mohair with a dark glint in his eyes. He stares at me, stares at my nakedness, and I spread my legs for him so that he can appreciate my cleanly shaven slit. “My beautiful bird,” he says. “You take my breath.” His words make my pussy flutter. “Come.” He offers a hand. “Our guests have arrived.”
I press myself into his side, my arms around his waist. “I am so happy.” I smile. “It means so much. You indulge me, I know, but it means everything to me, Master.”
His expression darkens, stern, but I don’t let that ruin the moment. “Remember, pretty bird, there is always a test, always a price. We must work for what we crave above all other things, we must earn our pleasure in order that we experience it to its fullest. It is through hardship that the soul is set free. You know this, of course, don’t you?”
I nod. I do know this, he repeats it every day, repeats it in his words, in his writing. It’s everywhere in this place. It’s him.
“That’s my beautiful girl. You are my northern star, Magpie, my greatest treasure amongst all things.” He kisses my cheek and opens the doors. Cynthia and Richard are already there, and Cynthia is already tipsy on Prosecco. I hate her when she’s been drinking. She is the cruellest submissive I’ve ever known. She’s dressed in jewels, and stockings, her hair coiled up with peacock feathers.
“Oh look, Richard, doesn’t Vincent’s little pet look sweet today?”
Vincent doesn’t say a word in defence, but it doesn’t matter. She’ll see. I hold my smile.
Richard nods and his mouth is already watering. His bottom lip is glistening with spit I’ll have to lick up later. He slobbers when he fucks, and he likes it when it hurts enough that I squeal. He spits in my face and calls me a filthy cunt, and he always tries to fit his podgy fist in my asshole. Sometimes I fail to break enough to like it. Sometimes I can’t get enough. My pussy tightens at the thought, but tightens more at the realisation that it won’t be today. Today I will be Vincent’s only.
Vincent gives me Prosecco and I drink it down. I sit with him without being invited, and I curl my fingers around his and smile at Cynthia’s jealous glare. She wants Vincent for her own. I’d love to see how good she’d be at sharing in the way I have to.
Vincent presses a palm to my belly, runs it down between my legs, and I spread for him. He plays with my clit absentmindedly as he regales them with conversation, and it feels like Heaven.
“My pretty bird has a request,” he reveals. “She wishes me to show you how much she is loved by me. She wishes that tonight I am hers and she is mine, and we share our delicious love with your appreciative eyes.”