“N-n-no,” I stammer. “No. It’s just?—”
“You asked if I’m okay.” He says. “No. I’m not. But it’s not about you. You are my release. You are making everything outside go away. And I do feel vicious tonight. But I won’t take what you don’t want to give.”
Vicious.
Yes, that seems right. He seems agitated. Ravenous. Even on the border of violence.
I feel real fear. Wonders, suddenly, if he’s figured out who I am.
No. That can’t be it. He just said this isn’t about me.
Before I can think of something to say, he’s fingering me hard, unrelenting. He holds me in place, and I writhe, half out of fear and half from arousal.
Blue.The word hovers on my lips, the word that would make him stop.
It’s there as his fingers dig in, as he pinches my clit.
It’s there as he pushes me to the floor, hands and knees, taking me from behind, a thumb pressing insistently at the entrance to my ass.
The wordBluetrembles at the edge of my voice, but I can’t say it.
I come. It’s painful and pleasurable, and I cry out, and it spurs him on. He frees his cock and rubs it against my ass, between my legs, through my soaking wet slit.
It occurs to me that he might just push his way in. He might just take my virginity like this, when I’m on all fours like an animal. He might just shove his giant cock inside my pussy and not know that he is taking this thing that is supposed to be special.
I almost uttered it.Blue. It’s right there, but I can’t find my voice, and I realize I’m crying. I’m not crying for pleasure. I’m flat-out crying because I have never, ever felt like a whore when I’ve been in here with him.
But tonight, I do. So I say it.
“Blue.”
He stops immediately. Backs away. I can’t stop crying.
I move to a sitting position on the floor, knees up against my chest as I sob.
I feel stupid and childish. What did I think was going to happen in here?
What game have I been playing?
“What happened?” he finally asks. He hasn’t taken off his mask. His cock is still semi-hard as he shoves it back into his pants, buttons up, and sits next to me on the floor.
“Why are you crying? Did I hurt you?”
I think about how I want to respond, but my mind is a jumble, so words just tumble out. Words I regret the minute I hear them leave my lips.
“I feel like a whore,” I say. “And I know this is…I know what type of place this is. I know what people do here. But I never. I’ve never done this before, and I came back because I never felt like that with you. I felt…a connection. And I wanted to keep feeling it. And things always felt good with you, so I always thought of you as a lover, not a client. I forgot that you’re not my lover. You’re a client, and you pay me to work with you. And I just…things got mixed up in my head. I’m sorry.”
“Ah,” is all he says.
“I really thought we had a connection. Not love – I’m not that naive – butsomething.” I want to sink into the floor. My mouth will not just shut. My mind will not just stop.
“I don’t know. Maybe we had respect? Mutual attraction? I come here every week for you, only you, and I’d probably come without the money. I just…I understand that we had to get to this point. It’s been seven weeks, and I wanted you to come. I wanted to please you the way you please me. I just…tonight…I felt like nothing. Like I was worth nothing, it’s so childish. I know. This is not some teenage thing. I’m not. This is so stupid. I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying you’re sorry,” he says in that thick, sexy Russian accent. “You have no reason to be sorry for hitting a limit. I asked you to say the word when you needed it. You said it. There is no sorry.”
“But I –”
“No,” he interrupts. He takes a deep, long breath and then blows it out. “I knew you were different. More…innocent. I liked that. It meant you were only mine. And you are right,malyshka, there is more to this attraction between us. What you sense is real. When I knew you were hurt before, I wanted to kill someone. I would kill a man who touched you, in love or in hate. I mean that.”
