by S K Quinn
‘I do,’ she replies. ‘I’ve never felt this way. Ever. I have to know, Marc. I have to know where this will go. I don’t care what you’re into. I don’t care if you’re a monster. I can’t live my life not knowing what we could have together.’
I feel like someone just reached into my chest and crushed my heart. In the cupboard just now, I thought I’d dodged a bullet. Scared her away. And yet she’s still here, wanting to know me. All of me.
And I want to know her too.
This will ruin her. Doesn’t she understand that? The games I play … once you’re in, you’re in. There’s no turning back. Once the temperature gets turned right up, every other sort of relationship seems freezing cold.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t have met Cassandra. Would I have stayed happy at lukewarm, never knowing there could be more?
No. I don’t think so. I think I would have found another Cassandra at some point. You can’t hide these urges. They have to come out.
I let my eyes wander over Sophia’s beautiful face, taking her in.
‘You really want to do this? Do you really want to find out what I’m all about?’
She nods.
‘Then I’ll be in touch.’
‘When?’
‘Soon.’
45
That was the moment. The turning point. It was when I decided I was going to have her. No matter what.
I knew it was wrong. But I’d already shown myself capable of very dark things. What was one more? Why torture myself any longer? Why pretend I was anything good? Why deny myself?
Once I’d decided that I was going to have Sophia, there was no turning back.
We were both on the rollercoaster together, strapped in and heading for the fall.
When Sophia left my classroom, I let myself obsess – truly obsess – in a way I hadn’t before. I began to imagine what I would do to Sophia to make her submit to me. The games I would play.
It was delicious, beautiful agony, waiting for my desires to be fulfilled. But waiting was part of the game too.
That first day, I couldn’t wait long. Only until the evening …
46
I wait on the cold, dark campus watching Sophia’s tower.
She’s in her bedroom. But Sleeping Beauty isn’t sleeping. The lights are on and I see the flicker of the TV.
It’s far too late for her to be awake.
I smile.
Once I take control of her, I can tell her when to go to bed, when to wake up, what to eat … she will be mine in every way.
It’s funny – now I’ve stopped wrestling with my conscience, things are very simple.
I am a bad man. She is a good girl. This can’t end well. But I have to have her.
Sophia comes onto her balcony, wrapped in a duvet.
My heart softens when I see her. So sweet and pure. So unaware that a monster lurks in the shadows, watching her.
It’s time.
I let myself into the tower, careful to be quiet. I don’t want any other students seeing me or guessing what is going on. I owe Sophia that at least.
When I reach Sophia’s door, I hesitate.
I could walk away now. I could leave Sophia alone. But she wants this too. I know she does. I’ve always known. She wants me to show her.
My knuckles come down softly on the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
I wait, hearing her movements in the bedroom.
Suddenly, the wait for her is unbearable and I hear myself knocking louder.
Knock, knock, knock!
Sophia’s voice comes through the door, soft and muffled. ‘Tanya? Tom?’
The door opens, and there she is – looking unbearably cute in pyjamas, with her hair fluffy and wild.
I put a hand to the doorframe. ‘I saw your light on.’
She stares at me, totally bewildered.
She is adorable. Utterly adorable.
‘Can I come in?’ If we go down this road, there will be a time when I don’t ask her permission for anything. But today I do.
‘Of course you can,’ she says, and she doesn’t sound afraid.
I stalk into her room, the fox in the rabbit den. I love the smell of her. It’s the most intoxicating thing. And to be in her room like this … late at night … when she’s not expecting me … I couldn’t want for anything more intimate.
Sophia picks up clothing, pushing it into the wardrobe.
I feel a smile tug at my lips – the fact she’s tidying for me … it’s so sweet.
I love seeing the way she lives. I love seeing her vulnerability.
I go straight through to the balcony and look out over the campus, my heart churning.
I didn’t expect to feel this way. I thought it would be simple. The plan was to come up here and have her submit to me. And then I would feel relief. But I love this girl.
Christ.
I feel Sophia behind me. ‘What ... what are you doing here?’
Silly question. You know what I’m doing here, Sophia. You know full well.
I glance back at her, noticing the old, dried out bouquet of flowers on the table inside. ‘You kept my flowers.’
‘Yes. They were beautiful, so I let them dry out. The card was beautiful too.’
‘Believe me, Sophia, I had no idea when I sent those flowers ... I hate myself for feeling this way about you.’ I turn to her. Enough of this. Let’s get to the point. ‘If we’re going to … go further there are things I need to know. Have you had boyfriends before?’
Sophia’s cheeks turn a lovely red. ‘Yes.’
‘Tell me about them.’
‘Nothing big. Just a couple of boys at college and university. Nothing serious. Just, you know. Teenage stuff. I’ve been working too hard to have time for a social life.’
‘Did you have sex with them?’
‘Yes,’ she stammers. ‘One of them.’
A red fog clouds my thoughts and I have images of punching out Sophia’s boyfriend.
Jealousy! I almost want to laugh. I’ve never felt that before.
What is this girl doing to me?
‘What kind of sex?’ I ask.
‘I suppose the usual kind,’ says Sophia, clearly very uncomfortable.
I am relieved. No one has hurt her or defiled her. I will be the first.
47
‘How many kinds are there?’ she asks.
I smile. ‘Lots and lots of kinds. I told you I needed to be in control. In charge.’
‘Yes.’
‘That means in the bedroom too.’
‘And what if I don’t agree to that?’
‘Nothing would make me happier. It would mean we could go our separate ways.’
‘You’re saying that unless I let you take charge of me, we can’t have a relationship?’
At last she understands.
‘Are you beginning to see why you’re better off without me?’ I say.
She hesitates. ‘I can’t be without you.’
Those words hit me like a blow to the chest, and I want to keel over.
I can’t be without you either.
‘I just can’t,’ she continues. ‘Not without knowing what we could have together.’
‘I was afraid you’d say that,’ I tell her. ‘But do you understand what I’m saying to you? For this to work you have to accept that I’m the one in charge. With your consent, of course. But at all times.’
‘I need to know more,’ she says. ‘What exactly do you mean by taking charge of me?’
‘Control you. Dominate you. Discipline you.’
‘Discipline me?’
‘If you step out of line, you’ll be punished.’
Her lips quiver. ‘I’m not sure I like that idea.’
‘If you want hearts and flowers, walk away right now. You’re a beautiful, innocent young girl who any man would kill for. If I were you, I’d run a million miles from a man like me.’
‘What do you mean b
y punishment?’
‘Maybe I’ll spank you. Maybe I’ll tie you up and fuck you until you can’t bear any more. It really depends how you step out of line. Come inside. It’s cold out here.’
I walk to the bed, and direct her to sit beside me.
We are close now, and I know she feels it too – the tension. The excitement.
Someone up there tied our souls together in the cruellest way. I have no idea why. But I can’t fight it anymore.
Sophia looks up at me, her eyes strong and determined. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I want to try. I want to try what you’re asking.’
I know you do.
‘How many times have you had sex before?’ I ask.
I know she’ll be embarrassed by this question. But this is part of the game. The way things start. She must be a little embarrassed. Humiliated. To show that she will submit to me. But I will protect her. Take care of her. I will never take things too far.
‘I haven’t kept count,’ she says, her body suddenly awkward. ‘But not a lot. Maybe five or six times. With my boyfriend at university.’
‘Sophia, I’ll never hurt you without your consent. Or let anything happen to you. You’ll be safer with me than anyone, I guarantee that. But I will take charge of you. Are you ready for that?’
She leans towards me, and a strange, unknown part of me wants to kiss her. To take her into my arms. But that’s not how I work.
I take her face in my hands. ‘I have to have a decision from you, Sophia. Can you accept what I have to offer?’
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I think so.’
And now she is mine.
48
I push her to the bed, feeling the power of my body over hers. She is so small. So delicate. I could kill her if I wanted to, and yet she is trusting me to take charge of her.
‘If you don’t like anything, tell me and I’ll stop. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
As good as her body feels, this is not how I want to start things. I stand, pacing around the bed and watching her.
‘Take off your pyjamas.’
She does, revealing – of course – white underwear.
I fight down a smile. ‘It had to be white, didn’t it?’
The feeling of her doing what I tell her – it is incredible. Women have submitted to me thousands of times. They have agreed to all sorts of degrading things. And yet nothing has ever felt like this – nothing has ever felt as good as Sophia simply stripping off her underwear at my instruction.
I close the curtains, then take off my clothes – leaving my own underwear on, even though I’m straining to be free.
Right now, Sophia is not allowed to touch me.
I grab Sophia’s ankles, feeling the fragility of them in my strong fingers. Then I turn her onto her stomach so she can’t see me.
I want her to be deprived of sight. To be out of control, letting me take charge.
Roughly, I pull her legs open and put my hand between them, moving back and forth.
I hear her moan, and feel the noise right in the pit of my stomach. It is the most beautiful sound.
I love that she is vulnerable. I could do anything. She is totally at my mercy.
I move my hand back and forth, feeling her body relax against me. She wriggles a little, but as I get in a rhythm she falls completely still, her breathing heavy against the pillow.
Her thighs begin to tighten, and I know she is about to come. So gently, I slide my hand away.
‘Please don’t stop,’ she whispers.
I slap her hard between the legs – right where I just made her sensitive.
Her body flinches.
‘That’s a warning,’ I say. ‘Don’t tell me what to do again.’
I put my hand back and carry on rubbing, teasing her.
‘I don’t want you to come yet,’ I tell her. ‘The longer the build up, the better the orgasm.’
Her body is both relaxing and getting tighter against my hand. She is beginning to tense, and experience tells me she is about to come any minute. But this is a lesson in self-control. I’ve given her a clear instruction. She must not come. If she can’t obey me, there will be consequences.
‘Oh Marc,’ she moans. ‘Oh, that feels so good.’
I am merciless now, my hand rubbing harder and faster. She tries to wriggle away, but I pull her back onto my palm.
‘If you don’t want me to come, you have to stop moving your hand,’ she yelps, still trying to wriggle free.
I place a firm hand on her hip, forcing her to be still, and rub harder and harder.
I know she won’t be able to help herself – not the first time. She moans and suddenly she is clenching against my hand, crying out as she comes.
I watch her as she relaxes into the soft mattress.
I am smiling, I realise. That is another first. But she was just so beautiful to watch.
I lay the duvet gently over her body. Then I lean down to her ear.
‘I told you not to come,’ I whisper.
She laughs. ‘Then you should have stopped moving your hand.’
But this is no laughing matter. ‘You disobeyed me. And Monday morning, I’m going to punish you.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me.’ I stroke her hair, but my voice is firm.
‘You’re going to punish me?’
I begin to dress, not answering her question. This is all part of the game – the silent treatment. The slow build-up of fear.
‘You’re not staying?’ she asks.
‘No.’ I place my hands on her body under the duvet, wanting badly to take her into my arms. But I don’t. ‘People can’t see me leave in the morning. I told you I’d protect you. That means your reputation too.’
‘I wish you could stay.’
‘So do I. Monday.’
‘But that’s two days away.’
‘Monday.’
49
My hand finds Sophia’s hair, stroking softly.
Sleep well, my perfect little angel.
You saw me. All of me. And you didn’t run screaming.
The things I’ve done to Sophia … I’ve humiliated her. Hurt her. All in the name of pleasure. She’s submitted to me in every way.
I have never loved anyone as much. Ever.
She has gone on this journey with me – to dark places, where I take charge of her pleasure and she loses herself. But unlike the others, she never lost herself completely. She was light. The whole time.
I will probably always test her. She has to explore her boundaries. Her limits. Or she’ll never know the full extent of pleasure I can give her.
The first time I made her come, I’ll remember forever. She fitted me so well, and I hadn’t even nearly begun to test her yet.
Of course, a part of me was afraid. I’d never had these feelings. Been in contact with this goodness.
But I couldn’t stop myself. Not once we’d started.
My plan was not to see her all weekend. I wanted to build up a nice amount of tension. But things didn’t work out that way. Sophia had her drink spiked and ended up in hospital.
I have never felt so angry.
I literally wanted to kill the student who did it to her. If I’d have gotten my hands on him at the wrong moment, I probably would have done.
The relief I felt when the hospital told me she’d be all right …
I watched over Sophia that weekend. She didn’t know, but I did.
The hospital assured me that she’d be absolutely fine, but I wanted to make sure. They complimented me on how kind I was to care for my pupils so well. If only they’d known …
The nurses were right of course – Sophia was fine. And by Sunday night, I knew we could continue.
I called her and told her to meet me on Monday as planned. In the classroom. There was just one rule – she wasn’t allowed any underwear.
50
I hear Sophia before I see her – walking in that slightly messy, clattering way of hers, boots hit
ting the polished corridor.
I’m perched on a desk, waiting.
Sophia appears in the doorway, and I hold back a smile.
God, she is perfect.
‘Glad to see you’re on time,’ I say. ‘Underwear?’
‘No,’ she says, her voice stomach-meltingly high and light.
I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t help myself. There’s something about this girl … I’m drawn to her like a magnet. I can’t explain it.
Having the sorts of urges I have, you get to know the women who enjoy being dominated. And Sophia is one of them. For sure. For absolute sure. I have plans for her. Unbelievable plans. Plans that will take her places she’s never been.
And yet she’s not like the others. I will be her first – I know that. It makes all this sort of pure. Not the usual word I’d use to describe my relationships.
I clear my throat. ‘You’re familiar with the stationery cupboard.’
‘You know I am,’ Sophia replies.
I want to smile. It’s like we’re sharing a private joke. Sort of cute, in a way. I imagine this is what couples feel like. For a moment, I like it. But then I snap back to reality.
I open the cupboard door.
It’s a place I keep scripts, paper, notebooks and boxes of biros. The sort of cupboard you have in every classroom. There are dusty shelves inside. Scripts. And today, a length of rope.
My throat tightens at the thought of that rope.
I got here early this morning and screwed eyelets into the wooden shelves.
My heart clenches and unclenches. So this is love – a pain in the chest. Unbelievable desire mixed with searing pain.
‘You’re about to get more familiar with it,’ I tell Sophia. ‘In you go.’
Sophia hesitates, and for a moment I think she might tell me that she doesn’t like this anymore. That I got it wrong. She’s not that sort of girl after all.
Nothing would give me greater pleasure than her walking away right now.
She should walk away.
I am no Prince Charming and this is no fairy tale.
But Sophia steels herself and walks inside, jerking to a stop when she sees the rope hanging from the shelves.