Mind Games - A Bad Boy Romance With A Twist

by Gabi Moore

  It was as though nothing I had done till now even counted as sex. With him, I never needed any foreplay. None. It was as though just knowing him, just being aware that he existed at all was the foreplay, and even the shadow of a thought about him had me soaking wet all day, so that when we finally did meet up, I fell into his arms like someone who’d been waiting for hours for release.

  My body was always frenzied with him, always ripe and bursting and impatient. It was like discovering a never-ending river of orgasms: pulling one out from the well just meant another one came gushing into its place. And then another. And another.

  I suddenly hated any item of clothing that constricted or held me in. I wanted loose, flowing robes and nothing to clutter my movement. My high heels suddenly seemed worthless, when the ground felt so good underneath my feet. Everything in my life looked cheap and clunky and excessive. And so I threw it all away. One bin bag after the other, my home emptied out. And with every meeting with him, I emptied out too. There could never be enough room to contain all the bliss he had to pour into me.

  “I’m just shocked by this sudden change of heart,” she said, and gave me a weak smile.

  “There’s nothing sudden about it. It’s been a long time coming.”

  “But you’re …you’re like the most principled person I know, Kat. I thought this work was important to you.”

  And there it was. I knew my manager would have a hard time swallowing my resignation, and part of me knew that yes, she’d pull the guilt card on me. I just hadn’t expected her to be so blatant about it.

  “I still am principled. And this work still is important,” I said, choosing my words carefully. The slatted blinds in her office had been drawn but I swear I could feel the rest of the office eavesdropping just outside the window. “But it’s not my work anymore.”

  She gave me a strange look.

  “Is it the salary? Let’s be frank about--”

  “It’s not the salary.”

  “Then what?”

  I could see the frustration in her eyes. I knew that keeping this center afloat was a daily miracle, and I knew that she’d have trouble finding someone willing to do for this place what I had done for the last five years. I hated to put her through the ordeal of finding someone else… but I was done.

  What could I tell her? Why was I really leaving? Could I possibly mention that I had undergone a transformation this last month that had turned me inside out? That I had experienced a moment of true clarity, and felt like I had just for a moment touched something divine, and now, looking at everything my life was, none of it could possibly satisfy me anymore? That I needed to kill everything I used to be and start over again? That I was changed and I would never, ever, ever go back to the person I was before?

  “Please don’t take offense. It’s not the salary. You know I’ve enjoyed working here. But …I need to leave. I need to move onto the next thing.”

  “You have something else lined up?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  She lifted and eyebrow at me and then smiled.

  “Who the hell are you and what have you done with the old Kat?”

  I smiled wryly and blushed.

  “The old Kat’s dead and buried.”

  She nodded her head, shrugged at me and then got up, extending her hand for me to shake.

  “It took me around five years before I burnt out, too, you know. It’s OK if you need to take a break. Stay away as long as you want. But just tell me you’ll come back, though? Please?” She held my hand firmly in hers and pinned me with her gaze. I smiled and pulled myself free.

  “I’m not burnt out. I feel better than ever. But thank you.”

  I left her office with a thrilling sense of triumph. I was crazy to leave without another job in the pipeline. But if I didn’t want to jump from one marriage to another, why would I want to jump from one job to another? I had never asked myself whether this – any of this – was what I really wanted. And if I didn’t ask myself that now, then when would I?

  The answer was no. I didn’t want Anthony. I didn’t want my boring, stifling job. I didn’t want my old, constricting clothing. I didn’t want another kid. I didn’t want to buy grocery store wedding magazines and pretend like any of that meant anything to me. I didn’t want a husband. I didn’t want a boss. I didn’t want an ordinary life. Not anymore.

  On my walk back to my desk, he messaged me.

  Mark: It’s all set up. You still OK with everything?

  I simply texted back a long, ridiculous string of emojis and hearts.

  Mark: Good. Very good. You have the address. I’m excited.

  I sent another emoji-filled message, this one with more hearts.

  I made a few phone calls when I got back to my desk and then glanced at the clock. I was due to meet up with the girls in a half hour. Annie had been promoted and wanted to throw a little thing for the group, and so we’d meet at our regular bar and have a chat and then afterwards …but I was too excited to think about that now. I didn’t know if I was ready for it yet, but it was going to happen, one way or another. Weird parts of me were still stuck in the chrysalis. If what I was going to do tonight with Mark didn’t finally release me from those last threads of my old life, I don’t know what would.

  Annie, Kara and Lily were all seated and waiting for me, already one drink in from the look of things.

  “Here comes the bride,” Annie sang in a silly voice and they all giggled.

  “Haha, very funny, although watch it or I’ll ditch you guys too,” I said and sat down.

  “The woman’s on a roll.”

  “Quick, Kara, give her some alcohol.”

  I took turns giving everyone a hug, accepted the glass handed to me and closed my eyes for a second while I savored the icy cold liquid slipping down my throat. I put the glass down and cracked my neck.

  “It wasn’t technically a jilting, since it wasn’t on the wedding day itself, yes I’m seeing someone new and no, I don’t think I’m getting my damn venue deposit back. And that’s about it. So if nobody has any further questions, then let’s grill Annie about her work instead, shall we?”

  “Oh no you don’t,” Annie said with a grin. “You’re going to tell us each and every last detail. What the hell, Kat, when did your life become a soap opera?”

  “I know, right?” I said.

  “And you’re seeing someone new?” Kara said. “So, when are you marrying him?”

  We all laughed and I sighed and took a sip.

  “I know, I’m crazy. I must seem crazy. I just feel…”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t know. Do you ever get the feeling that your life is not entirely your own? That there’s just like, some invisible hand guiding things…?” I stared at the faint wiggling lines in my drink, just under the surface. They all looked at each other and then me.

  “This new guy is …well he’s not even my type, really,” I said and took a sip.

  Kara laughed and slapped my shoulder. “Sounds like a mid-life crisis to me.”

  I couldn’t say she was wrong exactly. I tilted my head to the side and sighed.

  “He’s perfect, though,” I said dreamily.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Kind of rugged looking. A bit scruffy. But he’s so adorable. An artsy type, you know? I basically come whenever he says my name.”

  The girls squealed and erupted into laughter.

  “Kat! Oh my god!”

  “I know,” I said, not minding how hard I was suddenly blushing.

  “Lucky bitch. What’s his name?”

  “Mark. He’s a bit younger than me. A bit wild maybe…”

  “God, I’m so jealous.”

  “And he’s hung like an elephant, I swear. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”

  The girls hosed themselves with laughter. I never spoke about sex with them. Ever. But I wanted to brag. I just had to tell someone.

  “Oh my god, Kat, you have to be making
this up.”

  “Nope. It’s as big as my forearm, no joke.”

  “Kat!”

  “No wonder she’s suddenly lost her mind, she’s suffering from some kind of blunt trauma. Kat, do we need to call the ambulance or something?” Annie laughed.

  “Probably,” I said and grinned.

  Old Kat would have balked at this kind of raucous girl-talk. It was cheap and nasty. But new Kat? I wanted to tell the world. Not because he belonged to me now …but because I belonged to him. I felt claimed. Marked and singled out.

  “Jesus, and here I am with my dumb promotion when you’re the one with something to celebrate,” Annie said and raised her glass to toast me.

  “To our whore of a friend and all the great sex she’s having, apparently” said Kara wryly, and clinked her glass on Annie’s.

  “Here here.”

  We all took long, deep sips. Actually, the really intimate detail wasn’t how big Mark’s cock was. Although Lord in heaven was it big. No, the big revelation was even more secretive, even a little dirtier somehow, something that I wasn’t even sure how to properly explain yet. Mark hadn’t just fucked me. He had entered me. He had torn through all the bullshit, ripped away at all those flimsy parts of me that had fooled everyone else till now… he had come inside me. And he was still there.

  I never felt more free than I did when he was pinning with down with his full weight, gripping my hands behind me so tightly it hurt, fucking me so hard it made my feet go numb. When he gave me that mischievous smile and slowly knotted a cord around my neck, I felt more alive than ever. Pleasure and pain were just slightly different notes of the same glorious song he could play on my body. Melting over him, breaking, dissolving around him until I barely remembered my own name …this is ironically when I felt most like myself.

  “I think …I think I actually might love him,” I said quietly, and put my glass down.

  The group gave me careful, concerned looks. Silence. We all went silent with the mutual recognition that this was the really scary thing.

  Divorces were easy. Houses could be sold, kids could be taken every second weekend, and life could always go on. But love? Love was the real risk. The thing that truly cost. Though we all joked and laughed easily about the men in our lives, the fact is that in matters of the heart, there was always an unavoidable pain. A thing that made fools of us all, even now.

  The girls nodded quietly at me.

  Why not? Why not fall in love with him? He could have everything. All of me. Was my life really such a glowing success up till now that I cared about what happened to it? Was the way I did things really all that successful in the end, everything said and done? What was I holding on to so tightly, anyway?

  He had shown me that suffering was nothing. Fear was nothing. Surrender wasn’t giving anything away, it was receiving. And pain wasn’t the end of something.

  In fact, it was just the beginning.

  Chapter 18 - Mark

  “And if you misbehave, Daddy’s going to be very angry, and you know what Daddy does when he’s angry,” I said, and tightened the ropes around her wrists.

  She nodded gingerly, eyes glued to the floor. She was completely naked except for the binding on her wrists and the large, black letters scrawled on her chest: YES.

  “Yes, Daddy,” she said.

  The Daddy thing had been her idea. She had surprised me one evening, mid-orgasm, by screaming it out as she clutched at my forearms for dear life. When she came to I had teased her a little about it, but from then on it just became one of the things we did. Sometimes she would only moan and growl like an animal, guttural sounds forced from her body as I pounded her from behind. Sometimes she was full to the brim of Oh God and Oh Jesus. Sometimes she just stared me straight in the eyes, whimpering quietly to herself. And sometimes I was Daddy.

  I made her twirl one last time in front of me. She had gained a little weight lately, and she carried it beautifully. It settled on her delicate hips and gave her whole form a kind of loose voluptuousness that wasn’t there just a month ago. Satisfied she was ready, I gave her ass a playful slap.

  “That’ll do. Now don’t forget, everyone there is going to see exactly what a naughty little slut you really are, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  Fuck she was hot.

  I took a step towards her and looked down at her naked, bashful form. She cowered a little, and I could make out waves of goosebumps rushing over her as she waited for my next instruction. I unzipped my jeans.

  “Daddy’s going to teach you how to be a very, very good girl.”

  She shivered.

  I grabbed her hand and pressed it to my crotch, so she could feel just how wild she drove me.

  “But first, I want to show you off a little. I want everyone to know that you’re my little fuck-slave.”

  She lifted her eyes to me.

  I would have done anything in the world for this woman. Anything. Up to and including the things I was about to do to her later tonight.

  “Yes, Daddy,” she said again.

  I loved how her little fingers could barely fit around me. I leaned forward and gave her a chaste peck on the forehead, then smoothed down her hair with the backs of my knuckles and lifted her chin to face me. Her eyes were the faintest, softest green. Like a color you only ever see in dreams.

  “Let’s go,” I said, and I left for a moment and returned with her coat, draped it over her shoulders and kissed her again. She looked like little black riding hood.

  I led her out to the truck and helped her scale the step and climb into the passenger seat. Hands bound, she reached out for me to steady her, balancing one timid foot after the other. I could feel her hands shaking. I could feel her getting turned on, even now.

  I shut the door, double checked the bolts on the back of the truck to make sure that everything there was OK, then came to the driver’s seat and buckled myself in silently. She was staring straight ahead, as though hypnotized. I thought back to the first time she had been in here with me, all prickly and full of defenses and distractions. Now, she was as naked as I’d ever seen her. It made me ache. I’d build a whole world for her, if she wanted it. Somewhere she could be as naked and vulnerable as she wanted, all the time.

  The engine growled awake and we pulled off quietly into the night, the massive body of the truck lumbering behind us. By the time we arrived, the dreamy look from her eyes was gone and replaced with something else. Something like excitement. Or was it fear?

  I parked the truck, and in the darkness reached over and slipped my hands between the folds of her coat, between her bound wrists and gently between the folds of her already wet pussy. I traced a few tiny, slow circles round her clit and then whispered into her ear. “Good girl.”

  Inside, things were still pretty chaotic. Others had already set up but we were still very early. I was glad. I wanted her to feel safe, to go slow. The best games of risk are always played with a net underneath. You can go further that way.

  “Drink,” I said, and gave her a bottle of water to distract her. She was looking around nervously at the other vendors. It was nothing she hadn’t seen before, but I could tell she was nervous all the same.

  I had snacks for her, two spare warm jackets and a beanie if she needed it, a book in case she called it all off but still wanted to stay, and a little present I had bought for her the day before. We made our way to stall number 57, and she looked around. I didn’t want to dilute the moment by blathering on about how she was, if she was OK, blah blah blah. I just watched her. Her body told me everything I needed to know. Two men were already hauling the pieces in, and then in wheeled the cage. Her eyes fixed themselves to it.

  A new piece, one she asked for specifically – a lightweight cage with wooden bars carved to look like branches. It was unlike other cages on the market in every way. Four fur lined cuffs were inside – two on the top and two on the bottom. It was tall, so she could stand and show off, but had enough room at t
he base for her to kneel, or sit cross legged. The bars were widely spaced, enough to keep her in, but not so many that they would obscure the prisoner inside. The top was sealed with an elaborate carved lid with a fussy lock and chain. The kind of thing you’d keep a trafficked mythical creature in. Or the container you’d ship the concubine of an emperor from a far-off galaxy.

  In short, it was beautiful. Like her.

  The cage was set up next to the main table and the men wheeled off their trolley, giving us both long, loaded looks as they did so. I looked at her too. I wouldn’t put her in there until she was begging for it. Until then, I casually pretended it didn’t even exist. She helped me lay out catalogues and business cards. I set to work draping a piece of crushed purple velvet on the back wall.

  “Am I crazy?” she blurted to my back. I turned around.

  “What…?”

  “You know who I just thought of? That girl. Masooma. Do you remember her?”

  I did. I put down the velvet and went over to her, still bunched in her coat.

  “Yeah I remember her. You spoke about her for days.”

  “Mark do you think …do you doing all of this is just another form of privilege? Like, we’re just playing around with things that are actually real for many people in the world… did you know how many young women were abducted and forced into sex work in globally last year? Can you guess?”

  “Kat, that has nothing to do with--”

  “Almost five million,” she said and stared at me. “Five million. It’s nothing less than slavery. Women who would give anything in the world to be free…”

  I grabbed her by the shoulders.

  “Kat, you aren’t responsible for any of that.”

  “But how can I do this? Stand here like this? It feels like a slap in the face for people who’ve legitimately…”

  I sat her down and looked into her eyes.

  “Kat, are you happy? Do I make you happy?”