Affliction

by Jenika Snow

  I reached behind me, bracing my hands on the linen, half of it wet under my fingers. The heat from his body penetrated me, made me drunk, intoxicated with everything that was happening. Two weeks was short in the grand scheme of things, so the fact he wasn’t waiting to take me wasn’t all that surprising.

  “Spread your legs,” he said, low, demanding that I do what he wanted.

  The rational, survival part of me wanted to ask him what he had planned, what he’d do to me. But the smart part of me said, Shut the fuck up and do what he says.

  I stared into his eyes and felt him smooth his hands over my inner thighs, pushing up the bottom part of the dress I wore. It was light, summery, and the feel of the material sliding over my skin had goose bumps popping out over my flesh.

  When he was a few inches from the most intimate part of me, he exerted pressure and spread my thighs even wider. I swallowed, my throat feeling tight, dry. He moved his hands an inch closer, and I felt myself start to respond, felt my body heat come alive. I should have feared him, maybe even been disgusted, repulsed by what he probably wanted to do to me.

  But I was wet.

  “How affected are you right now?” he asked, his sweet-smelling breath moving along my lips. He moved his fingers even closer. I knew he had to be touching the edge of my lace panties now. He leaned in until there was only an inch separating our mouths. “Answer me.”

  I licked my lips, searching his face, trying to read him. It was no use. This man was unmovable, unreadable. “Affected” was all I said, all I knew how to say in this moment. Actually saying I was wet, that I was ready for him, that this form of control and torture—albeit arousing me to no end—made me so on edge I would give it to him without a fight.

  I saw something dark flicker in his eyes, but he didn’t show emotion any other way.

  “If I touch your cunt, would you be wet?”

  I didn’t make him wait for an answer. I nodded.

  “If I stroked your little clit, would you come for me?”

  Again I nodded. I knew I would, knew it wouldn’t take me more than a few hard, fast strokes of his finger on my clit to bring me off. He lowered his eyes to my chest, and I knew he was watching the way my breasts rose and fell, fast, almost violently. The white shirt he wore was unbuttoned at the collar, and the tattoos I could see looked angry, harsh…untouchable.

  They matched the man in front of me.

  I shifted, maybe to move away, to get some air. Maybe I was suffocating from my own desires, the need to be with this man so intense my fear and pleasure slammed together. They fought, my common sense telling me this wasn’t what I should want, that my body reacting this way wasn’t normal.

  “Are you frightened of me or of this situation?” He smoothed his finger over the edge of my panties. “Does it scare the fuck out of you, what I plan on doing, that the unknown is right there, teasing you, tormenting you?”

  I didn’t know if being honest was the right course, if admitting that yes, I was afraid but I was also turned on, would actually be the wisest decision.

  “Yeah, you’re terrified right now, but I can also tell you want this.” He leaned in another inch, our mouths so close. “Your cheeks are pink, your pupils dilated.” He lowered his gaze to my mouth. “You’re breathing so hard right now, your breasts pushing against the material of the dress.” He lifted his gaze back to my eyes. “I bet you feel like you’re drowning.”

  I felt myself pull my legs apart even more, as if my body had a mind of its own, was controlling this situation…was seeking out more of Cameron’s touch.

  He made this deep, dark sound, this noise of approval, this tone that told me he liked what I’d just done.

  “You want me to taste you, to lick you until you come?”

  I shivered, my flesh tightening, my pulse racing.

  “You want me to run my tongue through your cunt, suck at your clit, and show you how good I can make you feel?”

  I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if he actually wanted me to answer. And then he placed his hand right between my thighs, right over my wet pussy.

  “Tell me what you want me to do, beg me for it.”

  He got off on me saying these things, on the humiliation I felt succumbing to my desires, submitting to him. I felt a flush steal over me, my entire body on fire, my skin sensitive to the slightest breeze in the air. He added even more pressure, making me gasp, my toes curling.

  “Fucking tell me what you want, and if you’re a good girl, I might give it to you.”

  “I want you to touch me, to lick me,” I whispered.

  He made this low growl, this animalistic sound. I could hear people in the kitchen, the bang of pots, the clatter of china. They could come through that door right now and see me on the table, my legs spread, with Cameron’s hand between my thighs.

  “What else do you want?” He added even more pressure, and I closed my eyes, a moan ripping from me.

  “I want you to make me yours.” God, I’d just said that out loud, told him exactly what he wanted to hear, played into his hand.

  “Good girl,” he all but purred, his mouth by my ear, his hand still between my legs. “Your honesty deserves a reward.” And then he was on his haunches between my legs, his warm breath moving along my panty-covered pussy.

  He didn’t make me wait long to wonder what he’d do, how far he’d go. He pulled my panties aside, the dual combination of his warm breath and the chilled air sending shock waves through me. I wanted to scream, beg, plead for him to touch me, to lick me, to ease the raging arousal burning deeply in me. He either read my mind, or maybe I said the words out loud. Or maybe he just couldn’t stand it any longer either.

  Before I could even think about what was going on, before I could grasp the reality of my situation, I felt him move his tongue through my folds, parting me, making me shiver. I wanted more, yet I wanted to push him away, tell him I didn’t want this…convince myself of this fact.

  He continued to lick at me, dragging his tongue through my lips, circling my clit, sucking the bud into his mouth on every upstroke. I grabbed the tablecloth, held it tightly, my nails digging through it and spearing my palms.

  A gasp left me when Cameron gently bit my clit, making this high-pitched cry leave me and having me gasp for air. I yanked on the cloth as pleasure and pain consumed me.

  The sound of something clattering to the ground and shattering vaguely pierced my mind. I was trying so hard not to enjoy this, to fight myself on what he was doing to me, how he made me feel so free, so alive.

  His hands on my inner thighs were rough, painful. He held me in place as he opened me up to his tongue and mouth, to his beautiful torment. It was pleasure and pain all wrapped into one conflicting ball, into one war inside of me that wouldn’t surrender.

  And then he thrust his tongue into my body, my pussy clamping on the muscle, dragging it farther in, needing it as deep as it would go. I wanted to be stretched, claimed completely, and in this moment nothing else mattered…my body, my situation, my very reasoning for not wanting this man.

  None of that mattered right here and now as the pleasure washed through me, dug its nails into my body, hanging on, not letting go.

  I felt the tendrils of that delicious, depraved pleasure wash through me. I should have fought it, rebelled against it, but instead I found myself welcoming it, embracing it. And just as I felt the pleasure crest, Cameron pulled away.

  I sagged against the table, my body shaking, the near orgasm leaving me breathless and on the verge of wanting to beg him to make me feel good, to wash away the bleakness in my life.

  “Open your eyes.”

  I found myself obeying him instantly. He still had his hands on my inner thighs, but he was no longer between my legs. His focus was trained on me, his lips red from what he’d just been doing.

  “You stopped.” I didn’t know why I thought it was a good idea to say anything, but the words came from me fast, breathless. He didn’t speak, didn’
t even show emotion. He’d just been eating me out, yet his expression showed me nothing.

  He was like a brick wall, a poker face that would crush all others. I shifted on the table, trying to close my legs, but Cameron still had his hands on me, holding me open, making me feel vulnerable.

  The door to the kitchen opened, and in walked one of his waitstaff. My heart thundered, embarrassment filling me. But Cameron seemed unaffected, not taking his hands from my legs, not breaking eye contact.

  “I’m the one who holds the power, Sofia.” He moved a step away, running his big, tattooed hands on his pants as he stared at me. “You’ll be whole once this is all said and done, and I’ll let you go back to the life you know…if that’s what you want.”

  If that’s what I want?

  “But you’ll do best to remember that I’m the one you owe, that I’m the one who pulled you from the recesses of hell. For the next two weeks you’re mine.” He looked me right in the eyes. “Finish eating if you want, then get cleaned up and meet me in the solarium.” And then he turned and left, leaving me on the table, my legs spread, and the waitstaff on the floor picking up the shards of broken glass.

  I felt like that china on the floor: cracked, vulnerable, at the mercy of another. And I knew this was only the beginning.

  Chapter 12

  I had to ask someone where the solarium was, and once I stepped through the glass doors, the heat and scent of sweetness filled my head. There were trees, plants, even a waterfall that cascaded into a small pool off to the side. There were no walls, not even a ceiling. It was all glass, and the sun streaming in made the room hot and slightly humid.

  I didn’t see Cameron, so, assuming he wasn’t here yet, I took some time to explore. I’d never seen a solarium before, didn’t even really know what one was. This oversize greenhouse was incredible, magical even.

  The smell of the many varieties of flowers filled my head, making me slightly drunk from the purity of it. The sound of the water crashing onto the rocks of the small pond almost had a lulling effect to it, calming me.

  Through the windows I could see a vast expanse of trees, thick pines and evergreens, ones that blocked out anything and everyone. I had a feeling it was something Cameron preferred. His privacy seemed pretty paramount.

  Just thinking about him had my body warming, my erogenous zones tingling. He’d brought me to the brink of coming; then like a sadist he’d backed off, leaving me cold and hungry. When I’d been straightening up in the bathroom, before I’d come down, I’d thought of touching myself, easing that ache so I could get a little bit of relief.

  I’d refrained, though, from tormenting my body and mind any more. For some reason I wanted Cameron to be the one to finally break the dam in me, the passion and pleasure he’d brought right to the surface.

  I found myself walking toward a row of beautiful white flowers. They were almost wispy and dreamlike, soft and innocent. I ran my finger over one of the petals, the softness what I had expected. I was transfixed as I watched my finger move along the flower, over and over, smoothing, whispering along it.

  And then I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end, that feeling of being watched consuming me.

  When I turned around, I didn’t see anyone at first, but the feeling that I wasn’t alone was too strong to ignore. I was about to turn back to the flowers, maybe move to another part, try and shake the feeling, when my gaze landed on a darkened corner.

  Then I saw him watching me, the shadows concealing him, making me feel very aware that we were the only two in the room. On instinct I glanced at the doors, seeing they were now shut. When I looked at Cameron, I felt his gaze on me, this intense feeling like a second skin going over me, covering me.

  “Come here,” he said, his voice clear despite the high glass ceiling and the waterfall just on the other side of him. I felt myself move toward him, as if my body knew the routine, knew the path I had to take.

  I was only a few feet from him when he held his hand out to stop me.

  “I gave you a treat after breakfast.” He leaned forward, his face coming into the sunlight, his expression severe…aroused. “But this is about me, about you pleasuring me in any way I see fit.” I felt like he would have smirked at me then, but he kept his cold composure. “Isn’t that right, Sofia?”

  The way he said my name did all sorts of filthy, wrong things to me. I found myself nodding. Yes, that was true, so true I felt it in my very bones.

  “Now, undress for me.”

  I could do nothing but stand there for a second. Having him see me nude wasn’t a shock. No, it was the way he’d demanded it, his voice like ice: cold, hard, able to hurt without trying. I was here, alive, for one purpose, and that was to please this man, to bend to his will, and give him whatever he wanted.

  It was true when I said I’d be his victim…his willing, already wet victim.

  But what I hadn’t factored in was the fact I might actually enjoy this…want it.

  Anyone and everyone could see us, and a part of me grew even more aroused by that, even more on edge. What was wrong with me? Why was I enjoying this, finding myself wanting it?

  I pushed all thoughts out of my head. They wouldn’t do me any good, wouldn’t save me. Is that even what I want?

  Once I was undressed, my motions unceremonious, I stepped away from my clothes scattered on the floor around me. I felt my heart jackhammering against my ribs, like the muscle wanted out, needed to escape the depravity that was about to happen. But despite my fear, the knowledge that Cameron had more darkness in him than the very night, I anticipated this.

  I wanted this.

  Even now I was wet, ready for him, needing him inside of me, taking from me the way the entire world had for my entire life.

  He hadn’t told me to remove my clothing slowly, to make a show for him. I had a feeling a man like Cameron wasn’t about teasing. He wanted the reward when it was due.

  I noticed the small table beside him, the glass filled with what I assumed was alcohol. I guess it wasn’t too early for mind fucks or getting drunk.

  Cameron lifted his glass, the liquid within the cut crystal seeming darker than normal. He brought the cup to his mouth and took a long drink from it while watching me over the rim. The room seemed so cold with him in it, yet here I was, sweating, beads of perspiration rolling down my nude body, chilling in the air.

  The sun was a constant presence around me, the purity and beauty of our surroundings about to be tarnished and broken by what he wanted me to do for him.

  He had his shirtsleeves rolled up, his thickly corded forearms, inked in abstract designs, frightening displays of power, flashing before me like a promise. His hands were so large, and I could imagine them holding me down, pinning me beneath him as he took me, claimed what he was after. After a second he set his cup down and just watched me, as if he enjoyed seeing me on edge, seeing me fragile…at his mercy.

  “Get on your knees,” he ordered, demanding my submission, my compliance.

  I found myself falling to my knees, the tiled floor unforgiving, reminding me where I was, who I was here with. I stared at Cameron, his body partially obstructed in the shadows.

  “Come to me, Sofia.”

  I wasn’t fooled by the low pitch of Cameron’s voice. He was like a snake: hypnotic, seductive, but striking when I least expected it. And so I came to him, crawled to him, my body shivering, my mind racing. I wasn’t cold, wasn’t even frightened in this exact moment.

  I shivered, breathed in hard, and tried to focus because I was turned on.

  I wanted this, wanted him to show me the black hole that was his soul, that had been my life. I knew he could give me that. I knew he’d want to give it to me as much as he wanted to take from me.

  When I was in front of him, my knees aching, my palms sweating, he did nothing but look at me for long seconds. But I sat there, waiting, holding my breath, knowing he’d take me when he was ready. He’d bend me to his will when he deemed it so.


  His body was big. The tattoos that lined his neck and chest could be seen through the crisp whiteness of his shirt, past the open collar of the persona he showed the world.

  “Look at me.”

  I lifted my head, my gaze to his face. He leaned forward, the light form the window slashing across the harsh beauty of his face, showing me what lurked beneath the surface of this monstrously gorgeous man.

  “Ask me for it. Beg me for it.”

  My throat tightened, my mouth grew wetter, and every part of me was tense. It was like an electrical current washed through me, lighting me up, bringing me to life.

  “Ask me for it,” he demanded and instantly gripped my chin, his hold unforgiving, brutal even. I’d have bruises on my face, my skin matted with the blue imprint of his passion. And maybe to Cameron this was his passion, roaring out at me, demanding that I never let go.

  And a part of me wanted that, needed that mark of his ownership marring me, showing me that this was real, that I was truly alive.

  “Please,” I finally whispered. I felt him tighten his hold on me, knew that one word, that submissive word, struck him deep.

  “Again.”

  I licked my lips, seeing that he stared at them. He looked into my eyes now.

  “Again, Sofia, and say my name this time.” His words were like a whip to my flesh, opening me up, making me bleed.

  “Please…Cameron.”

  The groan that came from him was the most emotion I’d ever seen, the biggest reaction he’d ever given me. For long seconds he just stared at me, holding my chin in that painful yet surprisingly erotic grip. He smoothed his thumb over my bottom lip, pulling the flesh down before letting it fall back in place.

  As the seconds moved by, the minutes, I was transfixed by the sight of him, by his touch. And then he let me go, and I felt as though I were falling into the abyss. He leaned back and undid his belt before undoing his button and pulling the zipper down on his slacks. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, although I knew I was, sensed my chest rising and falling violently.