I do as I am told and he covers me with his much larger body, spreading my legs and proceeding to fuck me prone on his office floor, my face still covered in his now dried semen as he removes the vibrator and fills the aching space with long, firm thrusts of his cock.
I whimper and cry and thank him like the captive I am. I am so relieved to be getting release, for my clit to be grinding into the carpet every time his thick, dominant cock sinks inside me.
He fucks me to an extremely competent orgasm, making me feel like the sex we just had was another demonstration of his control. He didn’t need to fuck me. He had already used my mouth and satisfied himself. The rutting on the floor was just for me, a series of physical demands placed on my body to force it into an orgasm that leaves me curled up naked, wearing his seed on both ends of my body.
He gets up immediately, standing over me tall and apparently impassive in his suit.
I look up at him, feeling filled and drained at the same time. I try to appeal to his better nature, even though I know he doesn’t have one, and even though I am still feeling internal contractions from that orgasm that came on the heels of an hour of internal stimulation. He is wearing me out. Breaking me down.
“How long is this going to go on? You must be bored of it. You learn nothing.”
“This is not designed to teach me,” he smirks. “It’s designed to teach you. And when you are sufficiently trained, we will know all we need to know.”
When he lays his plan out that way, it’s obvious how he intends to break me. And he’s so confident in it working that he’s not even concerned about naming what he’s up to.
I have to convince him otherwise. And I have to do it before he succeeds, because there is part of me that is absolutely starting to crack under the pressure.
“My parents died when I was eleven,” I say.
“Ah. Another orphan,” Aiden says. There’s no awkwardness to his response. Usually when I tell people that, the person I’m talking to either feels sorry for me or wants to head for the hills to avoid the conversation. Aiden knows exactly what it’s like. Everybody here does.
“They died because BP had them killed,” I say. “He took me in, on the condition that I made myself useful. I was given jobs to do. Mostly runner type jobs. He didn’t let anything very bad happen to me, but nothing good happened either. I learned a lot working for him. He was his version of kind to me. He paid for a boarding school, even. It wasn’t a good one, but it was somewhere to be.”
I told Luke that I went through foster homes. It’s not entirely true. I didn’t want to tell him the whole truth of things right away. I didn’t want him to think I was a pawn of BP through and through.
Aiden is watching me the way a mongoose watches a cobra. He’s still, but ready to snap at any time. I know he won’t feel sorry for me. I’m giving him information he will probably use against me. Maybe I should stop talking.
I don’t like sharing my story. I don’t want to be known.
“Anyway,” I say, pushing through. “All of that help came with a price, you know?”
“I bet it did,” Aiden replies.
“I met Ted at a mixer,” I say. “And he was nice to me. Really nice. He was the first person I met who really didn’t seem to want anything from me that I didn’t want to give. He was cute, and his smile…” I trail off. “But they wanted to kill him, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.”
Aiden
It’s a pretty sad story, and I don’t know that I entirely believe it. In this life, it’s rare to encounter a perfect victim, someone who isn’t also guilty in some definitive and tangible way.
This meeting at a mixer glosses over a great many sins, I’d wager.
I have no doubt she was used as a honeypot. And I am sure that somebody else would have been used to lure him if she was not. She does not understand that these stories she is telling me have little bearing on my plans for her. I care less about what happened in the past, and much more about what I am going to do to her in the future.
“You’re going to hate me forever, and the moment they can grab me, they will. I belong to him. That’s what he thinks.”
“BP is dead.”
“Is he? Are you sure? A lot of people try to kill him. I tried to kill him when I was thirteen. Right before I went to boarding school.”
I smirk. “How did you try to kill him?”
“I poisoned him, but I didn’t use enough. I was working in the kitchen and I put rat poison in his coffee.”
“And what did he do when he realized what had happened?”
“He killed the chef.”
“So he didn’t know it was you.”
