by Anna Edwards
“I need it rough, Tamara. I need to dominate you. I have to know for the next few days you’ll feel me in every part of your body. I’m not normal, not even here. This is what he made me.” William uses my body as his toy to get off, and my mind worries at the implications of all of this, but my body is so overridden with pleasurable sensations it’s beyond caring.
“Made you?” I question as he wraps his hand around my neck.
“He made me this monster.”
“Monster?” I’m so confused I can barely understand what is being said. Who’s made him a monster? I want to question him more, but another orgasm slams into me like a freight train racing down a hill. I scream out his name, and William thrusts into me one final time as his hand around my neck tightens, and I feel the airflow into my lungs being constricted. A mild panic sets in, but William’s roar of ecstasy and the warm spurts of his essence coating my insides, tip me over the edge, again. The world stands still, and I’m floating, suspended in a ball of pleasure as wave after wave of orgasm crashes into me. Eventually, I come back to earth, and we collapse down onto the bed together. I’m gasping for air – my neck hurts, and I need my hands freed. William pulls out of me, and I lament the loss despite the growing panic I’m experiencing.
“I…I….” William stutters. He unties my hands, and I turn around on the bed to face him. He’s standing there covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his cock still half erect, and his chest heaving up and down at a rapid pace. He opens his mouth to say something but then slams it shut again. His hand comes up to his ear and swipes at it before going to his hair, and I listen for the foot taps, which quickly follow.
“William?” I move forward. My body jerks with aftershocks, feeling sore and overused from the exertion of our lovemaking.
His eyes flick to the full-length mirror, standing in the corner of the room. My gaze follows his and lands on the red ring forming around my neck from where he squeezed me during his orgasm. I look down to my wrists and see the burns on them, caused when I’d pulled hard on the fabric.
“I’m sorry.” He flicks his ear again, and before I can respond, he’s making his way butt naked out of the room, leaving me alone to stare at my well and truly fucked reflection in the mirror. I bring my hand up to my neck and touch the inflamed flesh there. He called himself a monster and said ‘he’ made him that way. It hits me what William meant – it was his father who taught him how to treat women. My stomach lurches, and I barely make it to my ensuite bathroom in time before I empty the contents into the toilet. If he’s done this to me, what else has he done?
Chapter Seven
William
Tap, Tap, stomp, stomp, swish, swish. I can do this – I can calm myself down before I do something even more stupid than I’ve just done by fucking Tamara. No, the fucking her wasn’t wrong. It was beautiful – the best sex I’ve ever had. There was a connection between us until I went and spoiled it, allowing the monster within me to take over. My mind is a haze of confusion. Without showering or washing, I jump under the covers of my bed and pull the weighted blanket up to my neck. Instantly, I feel the plush fabric mold to my still naked form, enveloping me in its comforting embrace. I know it seems strange for a twenty-eight-year-old man to need a comfort blanket, but I really struggled trying to get to sleep until Nicholas read about these covers on the Autism UK website, recently. They’re a new advancement in the fight against anxiety and the issues of ADHD and autism – specially designed to match the user’s body weight, helping the user to feel grounded. I’ve slept so much better since he bought me the best one money can buy. When my mind is overstimulated, as it was before I climbed into my bed, it’s the only thing that can prevent me from having a meltdown. And again, yes, I’m a twenty-eight-year-old man who has meltdowns and has been known to smash up his bedroom. It’s part of my condition, but it isn’t a daily occurrence. I need to fall asleep and try to forget everything that has happened today – chalk it up to a bad day and come back stronger tomorrow. Sometimes, that’s all I can do when the world surrounding me borders on chaos in my mind.
A light knocking on my door draws me out of my reflection.
“William.” Tamara’s voice comes from the other side. Part of me doesn’t want to let her in, but I know we need to discuss what happened between us. I sit up in the bed and pull the covers down to my chest. No point in being bashful, now. She’s seen every part of me.
“Come in,” I call back.
Opening the door slowly, Tamara peeps her head around the corner of it, and I instantly see she’s been crying. I pat the bed, encouraging her to sit beside me. She looks at it, then me, and I can see the indecision on her face.
“I won’t…I won’t hurt you, again,” I reassure her as she hesitantly comes to sit on the end of the bed. “I’m sorry,” I offer.
She brings her hand to her neck. She’s wearing a dressing gown, which shields her nakedness from me, but I can still imagine every curve of her body. The little mole she has on her left shoulder, and the heaviness of her breasts in my hands.
“Will you tell me about your past?” she asks, and I’m initially confused with her meaning.
“I don’t understand? What do you want to know?”
“You’ve been locked away for most of your life, but I don’t believe that was your first time. You had too much experience and knowledge of what you like in order to get off.” Tamara doesn’t look at me when she speaks. Instead, she seems to have found a space on my bedroom floor that’s riveting.
“Oh!” I exclaim and find my own interesting spot to look at on the old-fashioned rug, covering the wooden floor. “No, that wasn’t my first time. I know it wasn’t yours.” She quickly looks up at me with her eyes wide open. “I mean…I…Damn. I overhead you and Victoria talking on the phone once. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”
“Just you knew I was a sure thing because I’m not a virgin.”
I raise an eyebrow at her, and a small smile crosses her lips as if to say she’s messing with me. It dispels some of the tension in the room, and leaning back, I settle into my pillow.
“My father decided when I turned sixteen that I needed to experience a woman. Nicholas wasn’t exactly a saint at eighteen and was already renowned for his appreciation of the feminine form. I think he thought maybe it would make me less strange if I lost my virginity. You know, it might cure me type of thing.”
Tamara rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything.
“He had this girl brought to the house. She came into my room, lowered her robe, and was naked underneath. It was really awkward because I hadn’t been prepared, and suddenly I’ve got a naked woman in my bedroom. I was more interested in the differences in her form to mine than anything else. Needless to say, my father wasn’t impressed. I suspect he was listening outside the door.”
I go quiet and allow the memories of that day to return.
“He came into the room and showed me what to do.”
“Showed you what to do?” Tamara screws her nose up in disgust at the meaning behind my statement.
“He led the girl to the bed. Explained what her breasts and pussy were before flipping her over and spreading her bum cheeks to show me her asshole. Then he lowered his trousers and proceeded to show me how to put a dick in each of those places, plus her mouth, in order to get myself off. I always remember her scream of pain when he pushed into her ass dry.”
Tamara shifts closer to me on the bed. Her eyes are filled with watery tears.
“He did that? In front of you? Did the woman not protest?”
I shake my head. “She was paid to take whatever we gave to her. My father would have paid her a good amount, so she had no choice but to accept it. As for me, it was the way of the world I grew up in…silence for long periods, then my father would think of a magical way to cure his son, and I’d be thrown into some strange new situation.”
“Strange new situation!” Tamara slams her fist into the bed. “This was abuse! It shouldn’
t have been allowed. Not just to the woman but to you as well. What type of father near enough rapes a woman in front of his sixteen-year-old son to teach him about sex?”
I can’t help but let out a wry chuckle, seeing her anger at the injustice of the situation I’d found myself in. To her, it’s abhorrent, but to me, it was normal.
“What happened after your father had finished with the girl?”
“I don’t think I should talk about this anymore.” I can no longer look at the woman seated mere millimeters away from me on the bed.
“I have to know…please.”
“Tamara.”
“I have to hear it from you. I need to know why I have a bruise forming around my neck. It’s the only way I can understand what happened in my bedroom. I know I agreed to everything, but there’s a part of me that’s scared, not only because of what you did to me but also because it resulted in the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”
“What!” I exclaim and jerk her toward me. I pull the dressing gown away from where it’s tightly wrapped around her neck. “It excited you? The monster I am?”
“It excited and scared me at the same time. Please, I need to know everything. I have to understand. At the moment, I’m terrified of what it means for both of us.”
My breath catches at her words, and I get the overwhelming urge to put some distance between us. I slide from the bed, despite being still naked underneath the covers, and reach for a pair of jogging bottoms, which are neatly folded on a chair in the corner of the room. I hear Tamara gasp behind me when she sees my state of undress. At the last moment, I turn to face her, so she can see my dick standing at half-mast with the need for her body. She looks down at the bed as I pull my jogging bottoms all the way up.
“I have to understand,” she repeats, and I take a seat on the chair.
“My father finished himself inside her ass. When he pulled out the girl screamed, again, and I remember seeing the blood mixed with my father’s semen leaking from her. He’d been uncaring with her. She was nothing more than a set of holes to abuse. It felt wrong to me, but I knew nothing better. I’d never had a positive feminine role model in my life. My nanny was ordered about by my father and shown little respect. It wasn’t until I had access to the internet and television that I realized men should respect women and not abuse them. Somehow though, the darkness has stayed within me from that first encounter.”
Leaning back into the chair, I allow the story of my downfall to tumble from my lips. I’m unable to look at Tamara as I speak. That fascinating spot on the floor is back, occupying my ardent stare.
“My father put himself away and pushed me toward the woman. She lay back on the bed and parted her legs. I’d seen a pussy before because Nicholas had a thing for porn magazines, and he’d bought me some. I was more interested in the anatomy of that particular part of a woman than anything else. It was interesting to see a real-life vagina in front of me. She was shaven bare, so I was able to see everything. I stood in front of her and pulled her outer lips apart to see the sensitive flesh inside. It was glistening, and I knew in some way what my father had done to her, she found it enjoyable. She’d liked being taken roughly, despite the pain that must have surged through her body. She beckoned me with her finger, and I lowered my underwear. My dick was already hard, having been turned on by the situation. Pushing myself bare inside of her, I remember it feeling soft and wet. Welcoming. After a few tentative thrusts, my father came over to me and started screaming at me, accusing me of showing my innocence, telling me the woman wanted me to fuck her like the man I should be and not the imbecile my mother had spawned. Something inside me snapped, and I just remember my hips bucking wildly. I was only sixteen, but I was strong. I took from the woman without care while she accepted everything. I don’t know why, but at the end I placed my hands around her neck and squeezed. She screamed out in orgasm, and it took me over the edge. When I came down, she wasn’t breathing. I’d choked her so hard I’d completely cut off her breathing. Everything after that was such a blur. The woman was revived and paid off, but it was my father’s laugh that haunts me to this day. It was evil, and it was the only time he addressed me as his son. ‘Like father like son’ were his exact words. I’d made him proud.”
The room falls silent, neither Tamara or I speak again for a good few minutes. Both of us are trying to take in everything that has just been said. I’m sick, twisted, and freaky. She needs to run from me, right now, before I crush her under the weight of who and what I truly am.
Chapter Eight
Tamara
I knew what had happened to him was dark, but I’d not expected something like this. His first sexual encounter had shaped him into the man I’d allowed between my thighs no more than an hour ago.
“Your father was a bad man.” I finally speak, the words quivering on my lips.
“I know. I saw much more than anyone realizes.” He looks toward his bedroom wall, indicating to where I already know passages reside, hidden behind the ornately decorated walls of the hall. “I kept to the shadows. I wanted to see if I really was a monster, or if what my father taught me to do was normal. One night, when I knew Nicholas had a woman with him, I watched them together, adding voyeur to my palette of skills when it comes to sexual matters. He had the woman tied up and was taking her hard. She screamed for more, so he pulled out and used a flogger to beat her. I thought it was normal. I didn’t understand about BDSM and the experimental nature of my brother’s encounter. I just presumed that in order to get off, I needed to stop the girl from breathing or beat her, and so it became my norm. I wanted to warn you properly, but I lost my mind. You intoxicated me with your beauty, and I’m sorry.”
“William, please.” I slide from the bed. I’m confused. I’m listening to a man tell me he’s been programmed to beat a woman to enjoy sex. His father really did a number on him. The man hated his son so much, and knowing William’s autistic tendencies would make him susceptible to the depravation, the former Duke rejoiced. I’d studied a case at university relating to a murderer who was on the autism spectrum. He’d been taught it was normal to kill, and his brain couldn’t distinguish between right and wrong because of his learned behavior. He struggled with the concept that taking another life was wrong because it was routine to him. The victim had annoyed him, and murder was the automatic response he’d learned from his father. The man had been found not guilty, in the end, on the grounds of reduced capacity but was indefinitely detained for his and the public’s safety. It’s different from the sexual behaviors the Duke subjected William to, but fundamentally, the principle is the same. William was taught it was right to abuse women during sex. He only realized it was wrong when he became aware of how people from the outside world treated the opposite sex, but by then it was too late. There is a darkness in William, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to rid him of it, but he excites me, and I want to get to know him better even if I’m playing with fire.
“William.” I kneel before him and place my hands on his thighs. He still can’t look at me, but I know this is not simply about guilt, it is also related to his autism, so I don’t push him. The stimulations he’s experienced today must be leaving him in a whirlwind of emotions, and I don’t want to heighten his senses further. I just need him to know I understand. “I need you to listen to me.”
“Ok.”
“Hold your hands out.”
“What?” I’m watching him and see a line of confusion mark his forehead while he still keeps his eyes focused elsewhere.
“Hold your hands out for me.”
Lifting them up slowly, his fists are tightly clenched, showing the white of his knuckles, which protrude from his shaking hands.
“Open your hands.” I tell him. At first, he doesn’t move, so I bring my hands up and rest them on the top of his. “Please.”
Gradually, he opens them but continues to hold them rigid, guarding against the demons his brain is fighting at the moment.
“Shake
your hands.”
“Tamara...” he starts to protest, and I begin to shake my own hands floppily above his.
“Please,” I almost whisper, pulling my hands back, so I can see his. They remain still for another minute before he gradually starts to shake them. I move my arms out to my side, shaking my hands again before I take the movement up to my arms and shoulders. “Now your arms.”
He stops briefly and then starts to shake his arms around. I get to my feet.
“You know what’s next?” I question.
He pushes up off his chair. “I’m guessing this.” William shakes his legs, and I giggle.
“Feet, toes, arms, legs, hips, head.” I shake every part of my body. “Loosen up everything. Take away the stress and the worry.”
“And look like a complete dork while doing it.”
“Not at all.”
I take William’s hands in mine, and he allows me to shake him while we dance all around the room. We must do our crazy little jig for a couple of minutes before I get short of breath and stop. William’s eyes meet mine for the first time since our first kiss – I can see the sorrow and fear in them. They flick down to my chest, and when I look down, I realize my dressing gown has come loose, and the bra I’m wearing underneath is showing. Though his eyes lift back to mine with lust, the trepidation still remains. I go to speak, but nothing comes out at first until a melody I’ve not heard in a long time enters my head and flows out from my mouth.
“Hush, little baby, don’t say a word,
Mama’s going to buy you a mocking bird.”
William gasps.
“My mother.”
I stop singing, realizing instantly what he’s trying to say.
“She sang it to me as a baby. It was the only song that calmed me.” He brings his hand up to the bridge of my nose and allows the tip of his finger to run down it.