by Shae Banks
“I want all of you, Bekah. I won’t share you. I can’t. Unless you can give me that, I can’t see us working. I’m telling you this now before any irreparable damage is done.”
I frowned. What did he mean? He had all of me. He had sampled everything I had to give several times over. I didn’t have anything else. “I don’t—”
“You may have ejected Johnathan Pierce from your life, Bekah. I’ve done as much as I could legally to help you with that, but you remain shackled to him. He used you. Abused you. The things he did to you against your will were appalling, yet you allow him to remain ever present in your life.”
A chill ran down my spine. I shook my head. No, it wasn’t true. He was gone, Callum had seen to that. I hadn’t seen him in over a week, he hadn’t contacted me. He was gone.
“Yes, Bekah. You jump at shadows. You scan the traffic for his number plate. You wait for him to appear at your door an unwelcome but anticipated guest. I cannot and will not compete with that.”
A lump formed in my throat and tears stung my eyes. “I don’t want him,” I croaked. “Why—” I was cut off by a sob and quickly covered my mouth with my hand and looked away.
I couldn’t argue. It was absolutely true. He was still very much present. There was no escaping him.
I don’t know how he was managing it, but his voice was calm and even. I couldn’t attribute it to alcohol because we both had soft drinks. He should have been too tired to bother after four crazy days at work, but here we were. He gave me a second to compose myself, and when I didn’t break down in tears again he continued, “I’m not trying to upset you, Bekah. I’m trying to protect us both. He’s in your head. Psychological control, an aftereffect of his manipulation. Call it what you want, but he is as present now as he was two weeks ago, and you deserve to be free of him. I want you to be free of him. I want you with me.”
“I don’t know…”
My voice was barely a whisper, and I couldn’t look at him, but he heard. “I can show you how.”
I looked up, our eyes meeting over the table. I felt so guilty, but I wasn’t sure why. I hadn’t led him on. I’d been completely honest with him from the very start, and he’d been there to hold my hand through the hell Johnathan had caused. He’d been so supportive, spending days just being there, not expecting any physical recompense for his time.
He’d made me feel safe. He’d dispelled most of my self-loathing. He’d even considered my health, encouraged me to look after myself, and was there to comfort me when the shame of that had been too much.
“I…” I didn’t know. I didn’t know what to say, or do, or think. I looked down at the table, fighting to keep the tears at bay.
“You should take some time,” he said. “Remember everything I’ve said and give yourself time to come to a decision. Nothing will change, whatever conclusion you come to, I’ll still be here, and if you choose to let this go and continue your life without me I won’t hold it against you. Your position here is secure, and I don’t want you to feel ashamed of the time we’ve had together. What matters most now is your happiness.”
That sounded like a dismissal. I took it as such and pushed back my chair. “Th–thank you for dinner.”
“Do you want me to take you home?”
I shook my head, leaving the table. I couldn’t speak.
He reached out and grasped my hand as I passed him. I stopped, looking down at him as he ran his thumb over my palm. “I want to help you. You know where to find me and when.”
I nodded and went straight to the staff changing room for my bag and coat. I left the building with both in my arms, not stopping to put them on until I was several buildings away.
I stopped and leaned against the wall of an old church, still choking back tears. Thankfully it was dark, and the town was almost deserted.
What had just happened?
Where had that come from?
With my coat zipped up to my chin and my bag slung over one shoulder I started walking.
I tried to remember everything he’d said, but my thoughts were so jumbled I couldn’t make sense of it. I was a mess. Was that Johnathan’s doing, or was I just broken? Did I invite this horrible shit or was I just unlucky?
I thought I was happy with my life as Johnathan’s bit on the side, but had I gotten greedy? Wanting more had been what started all of this. But was that all Callum was asking for? It didn’t sound like much, but did I want to give him what he was asking for? Did I even want him?
The resounding answer was yes.
Why wouldn’t I? He was kind and considerate. He made me laugh and smile and wasn’t ashamed of me or my previous experiences. He respected me. He tried to keep me safe. Surely, in exchange for all of that I could give him what he wanted. All he asked for was me. He seemed to think I was valuable. That I was someone worth having. I hadn’t had that before. Not even my own family showed me the respect and support he had in those few weeks.
Turning into the drive of my building I caught myself sweeping the carpark and huddled deeper into my coat as I dug for my keys.
Johnathan wasn’t here. I didn’t need to look for him because he was gone.
The building was silent, not even Pat’s TV was blaring.
Without turning on the lights I locked myself in the flat and went into the bathroom to draw a bath.
Callum asked me to think, and that was what I was going to do.
The sun was only just up. I’d caught a few hours of sleep but was up before dawn. I’d done the thinking. I’d made the choice.
After fixing my hair and makeup, I put on my coat and unlocked the door. I knew where to find him.
His harborside apartment was only a twenty-minute walk away, and when I arrived, before I could change my mind, I pressed the button for his apartment and waited.
It took him a while, so long I thought he was out, but eventually I heard a crackle and his distorted voice said, “Lowell.”
I swallowed, looking at the small box on the wall.
“Hello?” he said impatiently.
“I want you.”
I blurted the words before I lost my nerve. I needed to be rid of Johnathan. I needed to be with Callum. I desperately wanted to feel the way he’d made me feel before. I wanted to be free. I wanted his help. I only had to ask for it.
There was a long silence.
The only response I received was a high-pitched beep as the door unlocked, and I pulled it open.
Chapter Seventeen
He was waiting at the door when I reached his floor, leaning against the door frame and watching me.
I smiled, but his face remained expressionless, and I slowed my pace.
“I—”
He tilted his head, an instruction to go inside. No greeting. Not even a smile.
I stepped inside.
“Second door. Go in and undress entirely. Hair up. Kneel in front of the mirror.”
I turned around to ask a question, but he caught my chin with his right hand. “You don’t ask questions. You do as you’re told.”
He placed an oddly chaste kiss on my lips, stepped around me, and walked toward the living room.
That voice again. The stern one. The commanding one. The one that made me want to please him…
My stomach twisted. Was I making another mistake? Should I leave?
No. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to know how he proposed to help me. How he believed he could eradicate Johnathan from my head.
I took the seven steps down the hall and let myself into Callum’s bedroom.
All that covered the window was a pair of sheer grey curtains that allowed the weak morning sunlight to flood the room. The walls were painted a very pale grey.
It was simply furnished. The large bed was unusually high and seemed to be made from solid planks of wood. It smelled like pine.
There was a single matching chest and bedside tables, all with vintage cup handles.
I looked around for signs of a closet or bathr
oom and shrugged off my jacket. There was a door on my left. I opened it and found what I was looking for. Black marble tiles were contrasted by a brilliant white roll top bath and matching toilet and sink. The right-hand side of the room was dominated by a window and strangely a wet area. To the left was a pair of doors I assumed led to the closet that was missing from the bedroom.
Done examining the place, I undressed, leaving my clothes folded on the floor, and tipped my head over to sculpt my hair into a high pony tail. Then, heart pounding, I went back out to his bedroom.
The mirror was on the wall that ran opposite the door to the hall. The bed stood neatly made behind me, the door visible in the periphery of my vision to my right. I knelt as he’d instructed and looked at myself.
I’d chosen the underwear I’d worn on Christmas Eve. Not for any other reason than it was one of only three nice sets I had, and the only one I’d purchased myself.
I stopped myself. My thoughts were returning to Johnathan, and I wasn’t here to think about him.
I was here to purge him from my life. He’d permeated every tiny part of it, and I was here because Callum had said he could help free me from him.
The door opened, and Callum stepped inside. I turned my head to face him. He was topless, wearing just his shorts, and was already sporting a raging hard on. I expected him to come closer, but he stood by the door and watched me for a few seconds before saying, “I explicitly said to undress entirely.”
My stomach squirmed. I didn’t know if it was fear or excitement. I didn’t care. “I’m sorry, I’ll—”
“Remove your bra and place your hands behind your back then face the mirror.”
I did as he said, dropping the item on the floor at my side and positioned my hands behind my back.
“Keep your arms there. Do not let them drop. Now take a good, long look at yourself and tell me what you see.”
I didn’t understand and turned my head back to him about to ask what he meant.
His expression changed. I could almost have said he looked annoyed. His eyes hard, he took three steps into the room and looked down at me.
“Face the mirror.”
I quickly turned my head.
“What do you see?”
All I saw was myself. Just me. I had full makeup on for the first time in weeks. My eyes looked all right for a change, the liner on my top lid having done what I’d asked of it for once, and my mascara made my lashes look super long.
I kind of suited my hair up in a high ponytail like that, and I didn’t look too bad, even if my weight loss was clear, evidence of my lack of self-care. The problem wasn’t anxiety anymore, but I couldn’t eat if I had no money for food.
I wasn’t starving, but I wasn’t eating healthily by any means.
I had fewer creases around my middle despite the position I was sitting in. My waist pinched in more than it used to.
“It’s just me.”
He moved to stand behind me, looking at my reflection. “Not good enough. Look closer. Deeper.”
I was where I deserved to be; on the floor at someone’s feet, feeling small and insignificant. The only thing I had going for me was that my makeup was looking good today, and I was in a luxury apartment rather than my dull flat.
“I don’t see anything.”
He took my upper arms and hauled me to my feet. Reaching around my body, he pinched each of my nipples in turn. They instantly hardened, the sharp nip of pain sending sensations running through my body and settling deep in my gut.
He watched me for a reaction, and when I didn’t give one he said, “I have rules. The first is that nothing happens without your consent. Since you willingly complied this far, your consent is implied until you indicate otherwise. I will do my best to read your body language, but that is not always a reliable indicator. As a safeguard, I want you to use a single word we will take to mean you are uncomfortable and would like whatever single act I am performing to stop. That word is Vanilla. Say it for me.”
“Vanilla.”
“I need to hear you, Bekah,” he said, voice stern.
I repeated myself with a little more force, and he said, “Good. The next word will mean I am to stop immediately. I am to withdraw all contact and cease all activity.”
I met his eyes through the mirror and nodded my head once.
“The word is cinnamon. Say it.”
Flicking my tongue out to wet my parched lips, I took a breath and murmured, “Cinnamon.”
“Good girl. If you’re asked a question you will always address me as Sir when you answer, is that clear?”
There was something in his voice when he said, “good girl”. I was so fucking turned on I was desperate for him to touch me. To kiss me. Anything.
I instantly thought of the time he’d taken me into his office to reprimand me. I’d called him Sir then. Something roiled in my veins as I thought of that single word being enough to make him look at me differently. Had that been the point he’d decided to pursue me? “Yes, Sir.”
He moved away, opening a drawer in the small table beside the bed and said, “Very good. I think you’re going to do very well. Remove your panties.”
I did as I was told right away and didn’t miss how wet my panties were when I kicked them aside. Then I clasped my hands behind my back and sneaked a glance his way. He had something in his hand, but I couldn’t see what it was. There was a click, and a low hum broke the silence of the room.
Stepping behind me again, he raised his right hand and looked at what he was holding. My eyes slid to his hand. I’d seen them before, vibrators used to stimulate the clitoris for an intense orgasm. This one had a condom over the rounded end.
“Now that we have established the rules, I want you to keep those arms behind your back, stand up straight and tell me what you are, Bekah.”
I wasn’t anything.
I was entirely worthless to everyone except…
“I’m Johnathan’s whore.”
His hand connected with my ass, white-hot pain bringing tears to my eyes. Pressing my lips tightly together, I fought not to cry out as tears welled in my eyes. I didn’t understand why he’d just slapped me. Why he’d hurt me. I was so shocked I couldn’t move, but I wasn’t afraid. That realisation brought me to open my mouth to speak just as the wand connected with my clit.
All thoughts of the slap on my ass was forgotten as the new sensations tore through me.
My instinct was to reach out and brace myself on the mirror, but I’d been told to stand up straight.
Then I understood. I wanted to do as I’d been told.
I wanted to please him. I wanted to do exactly what he said.
An orgasm was building, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to stand how he’d positioned me. I was about to come. I was about to lose all control and probably fall to my knees, but he abruptly took the wand away and stood behind me once again.
“Wrong answer.”
Reeling, I tried to think of the correct response as the orgasm ebbed away. My ass was burning, my clit was throbbing, and my legs were threatening to give way beneath me.
“I’m nothing, just a–a whore.”
He stepped to the side, and I knew another slap was coming. A strange combination of fear and excitement churned in my stomach, and I quickly added, “Sir.”
I watched in the mirror as he bent over slightly. His breath was hot against the shell of my ear as he said in a low voice, “Good girl.” Then his hand connected on my other ass cheek, and as the pain seared, he said, “No.”
Then he was behind me, the wand pressed against my clit, his free arm holding my body against his.
My body was mapped with sensation that was heightened by the feel of his skin against mine. His erection pressed into the small of my back, his burning hand prints on my ass, the vibration from the wand—an extension of his hand—and his breath against my neck all working to bring me back to the edge of orgasm.
“What do you want to be?”
<
br /> I barely heard him over my tumbling thoughts as I tried to piece together some semblance of rational thought. The vibration pattern of the wand changed, it was faster, the pitch of the sound it was making increasing by a couple of octaves, and I fought not to reach the climax. I wanted to stay at the edge just a few more seconds before he took it all away.
Answer. He was waiting for an answer. I didn’t know what I was. I was a lot of things, but I didn’t know how many wrong answers I could give before he took it away entirely. I knew what I wanted to be. Right then every little part of me belonged to him. He controlled me. He was everything. I wanted him, and no one else.
“Yours. Yours. Please, stop, I want to be yours.”
His fingers pushed my chin up, and I raised my head, looking straight into the mirror. Our eyes met, and he smiled. “You’re going to come for me, and then I’m going to fuck your mouth.”
I could have cried with relief, but he didn’t give me time, the orgasm that had died away twice now springing into full bloom in my veins.
I couldn’t have stopped it if I’d tried. My back arched, pressing harder into his chest, and I raised up on the tips of my toes as the pulsing heat of my orgasm spread through my whole body.
He held it against my clit, held me until the tension left me, and my muscles turned to jelly. Still I kept my hands behind my back.
The wand stopped vibrating, and I heard it drop to the floor as his hand reached around to replace it with his fingers. His cock was almost in my hands, he’d pressed himself so close, and I grasped it through the fabric of his shorts. He pinched my clit hard in response, and I gasped, tilting my head back against his shoulder and running my hand up and down his length. He turned me to face him, looking directly into my eyes. “There is a condom in the drawer. Get it out, put it on. Remain on your knees.”
His voice was commanding.
I wanted to please him.
Keeping my eyes on his face I got down on my knees, my hands still behind my back, and shuffled to the nightstand. When I reached it I had a problem. He wanted my hands behind my back, but I couldn’t see how to open the drawer. The handle wouldn’t allow me to use my teeth.