Page 23

He doesn’t even wait, he already knows

“I know… not yet…” he lets his words hang in the air, whilst his hands keep everything working “… not until you’ve asked nicely”

I am so fucking desperate, I don’t want to play this game, no matter how good it feels

“Nik…”

“Uhuh…?” he responds, picking up the pace. His thumb finding my entrance and teasing, dangerously.

“I need to…” he hits the spot again, and his thumb pushes inside of me. He must be able to feel I’m on the brink, about to break completely

“Not yet… not until you’ve asked nicely” he warns

“Nik, please…!” he builds up the pace some more, this is torturous, I’m going to explode and out of nowhere, without a single conscious thought “Please make me cum for you, please… make me cum, please can I cum?”

He’s holding me right on the edge, and he fucking knows it.

“Say ‘thank you’”

I don’t get chance before he works everything together, his thumb, his fingers, the pace, the pressure. It’s almost dizzying and all I can manage is “thaaaa….nkyouthankyouthankyou” tears of released frustration as my legs shake and quiver, my body tenses gripping his thumb. Convulsing and he holds me up. My nerves reject any further touch as pleasure crosses into overstimulated and I fall back into him, my back to his chest.

Craning my neck to look up at him, he kisses my cheek.

“You’re welcome. You cum so pretty”

He turns me to look at him and I fold into his chest, trying desperately to catch my breath and steady my legs. After an eternity, in his usual fashion he scoops and places me on the kitchen corner.

I sit with my ankles crossed, swinging them freely. Absent-mindedly chewing on a loose section of hair. I find myself rocking so very slightly, I’m not sure why but I’ve always found movement to be soothing. I don’t feel like I need soothing. Maybe I should ask Nik, he’d know, I laugh to myself at the stupidity of the concept.

As if by some kind of sex-therapist intervention my mind wanders. As I rock, I can feel his hands on my ass. I’m not unaccustomed to the sting of a slap, though a spank is different. In my bones I can feel something’s different. How would Nik phrase it? Maybe that’ll lend me some clarity. It hurt, but I’m not scared, and it’s done no damage to me or to us. I trust him more, not less. So perhaps. My tongue fiddles with the ends of my hair. Perhaps he hurt me, without harming me, and it’s done some kind of spiritual healing. His handprint has given me warmth and contrast, not pain in its pure sense.

All these things that would normally have caused me to simply bin them from my mind, start to make sense, even if they’re complex. Now I sit in a trance-like sense of reflection. Harm versus hurt. Knowing someone versus memorising them versus truly understanding them.

Nik is undoubtedly dominant, but somehow his dominant doesn’t read as dangerous, damaging, or destructive. I suppose that makes me submissive, but that’s not the same as me being weak or simply compliant. If anything he makes me feel stronger than I’ve ever been before. I don’t even need words, he just listens to me, he hears what my body is saying, the questions it asks, and he answers.

Or maybe I’m just swooning, because he knows how to turn me into a malleable human sex toy and I’m fucking here for it. If this is what foreplay is, what’s sex going to be like. I blush at the thought when I’m thankfully ripped from my lucid daydreams before they begin, as he clears his throat. Hand outstretched, offering me half a tomato to nibble as he is seemingly ready to start cooking for us. I salivate. Maybe at Nik, maybe at the thought of his food. Not sure it even matters which.

I raise an eyebrow, but dutifully take my snack, replacing my hair’s place in my mouth. Then I watch him tauntingly replace the bread in the pantry. How is he going to make a sandwich without bread? Idiot.

He returns my confused look with a smirk, and replaces my confusion with infuriating realisation.

“I never wanted the sandwich” he confesses, and my eyes bulge out of my head “good girls make sandwiches” my indignation threatens to rise, and is instantly cooled by that fucking wink. He takes my hand, kisses the back of it without taking his eyes off of me.

The receipt of another fresh-fruit-based snack in the hand he’s kissed informs me that I now have a snack in each hand, therefore our conversation does not need to continue. It’s now quiet cooking time.

Fifteen

Nik

“You don’t have to sleep in there on your own… I think we’re probably past that… but no funny business, mister… and it’ll only save you creeping across the hallway anyway” she jokes at my expense with a playful wink whilst mindlessly twirling her hair. She’s probably known all along. Intriguing.

I follow her to her room. I want to ruin her, to destroy her so that she can be resurrected into a beautiful monument to her own power. For now, my mind is transfixed on one simple problem.

The Firm.

One problem, a simple problem, but one that must be calculated, planned, and executed in due course. With precision. And extreme, extreme prejudice.

I can leave their crimes against me unanswered. But the crimes against her? They will not go unanswered. They knew what Dan was like with her, and they failed to act. That’s culpability.