That Which Destroys Me

by Dawn, Kimber S.

  When we make it to… hell, I don’t know - floor three hundred and seventy-five? The top floor, of course - the elevator doors part to reveal his ‘home’. If that’s what you can call it.

  We enter the main entrance and walk onto the marble floor of the grand foyer where he unloads his keys, wallet, and cell phone on a long table. When I glance past the foyer and see plush white carpet, I kick my heels off which causes Wes to look over his shoulder and down at my feet before laughing.

  “What?” I ask confused but more embarrassed over my knee jerk reaction.

  Who sees white fucking carpet and doesn’t kick off their shoes? Well, if you don’t you’re either an asshole or your shoes are brand fucking new.

  “Nothing.” His hand grasps mine before pulling me forward. “Your feet are cute as shit, that’s all. What do you drink?”

  I let him pull me past the living room, through the dining room and into another sitting area with a bar. Yes. A full bar. Liquor bottles lined up—the whole nine.

  He pulls a bar stool out - again, yes. A barstool. I said the whole damn nine - I scoot my bottom up onto the stool as ladylike as possible. “Ms. Reese? What. Would. You. Like. To. Drink?”

  “Oh, wine.” I smile up at him behind the bar and watch his eyebrow lift up.

  “Any particular wine or can I just grab the old box of Franzia from the back of kitchen pantry?”

  My face scrunches up at the mention of Franzia. “White Zin, Riesling or Moscato. I like sweet wines.”

  “That I can do.” He nods, pouring himself a scotch after he hands me a glass of Riesling.

  He literally drains his glass of scotch - less than three sips - swear to God. That, in turn, causes my nervousness to reappear and I follow suit by downing my glass of wine.

  When I look back at Wes, he has that damn grin across his face that as a child I dreamed of and pined for, directed squarely on me.

  “God-fucking-dammit, Stella. You are so beautiful.” His brows furrow before he looks down into his empty glass.

  “Thank you?” I duck my head embarrassed at the way I ended my statement with a question.

  What the hell is wrong with me? He is just a man. He is a human. He is not a God, he is required to shower, shave, and brush his teeth just like every one else in order to remain healthy…and attractive.

  Fuck, he is attractive too.

  I let my eyes roam over him. My fingers itch to run through his short dark brown hair. My eyes could gaze into his bright green ones for hours. His wide shoulders cause my mind to wonder how it would feel being under him, surrounded by him. And his face? Holy cheese and crackers. It’s just as beautiful, if not more now with the smile lines around his eyes and on both cheeks where his dimples hide.

  “I need to talk to you about something. Before you react…” Wes’s eyes stay locked on mine as he rounds the bar and makes us another drink, never pausing in his speech. “…I need you to hear me out. I don’t want you to speak until I’ve finished. Is that understood?” I nod, too afraid to say yes in case he meant from the moment the words fell from his lips.

  “Good. I hope that you understand, or it has dawned on you why I was at Chained tonight. Has it?”

  My head nods yes again and I maintain eye contact.

  “Good. So you understand that I am a Dom. I am dominant in every aspect of my life, my sexual life included. I have, over the last year, dated—well, not so much dated, more like fucked—strictly vanillas. In my mind, if they were kinky enough to allow me to be in total control, allow me to act out my fantasies, as well as feed the sadist within me, there was no reason to visit Chained or seek out a long term Dom/sub relationship. I’ve gone through hundreds of vanillas and quite frankly, Stella, I’m still a fucking starved man. Do you understand?”

  Again, I simply nod.

  The hand holding his tumbler of scotch stops on its way to his mouth and he points a finger at me around it.

  “You, Ms. Reese. I want you.” I watch somewhat fascinated as his lips press against the tumbler before sipping his drink. My eyes follow his hand as he sets his drink down. When he clears his throat, it causes me to quickly look back up into his eyes.

  “So. Here’s how this is going to go. I will to test you. I will bend you. I will to push you. Much further than you’ve ever been pushed. Not only on a professional level and a personal level, but sexually as well. My question is: Do you think you can handle me? All of me? Everywhere. I will be inside your mind, your soul, I will scratch so fucking far past your surface that you will be flayed open, exposed to only me.” He picks his drink back up and pauses before taking a sip, keeping his eyes locked on mine over the rim of his crystal tumbler.

  He sets his glass down and walks until he’s standing directly in front of me. Using his thigh, he nudges my legs apart first before sliding his hips between my open thighs causing my dress to ride up so high, the question of whether or not I’m wearing panties is clearly visible. His huge hands cup my face before tilting it back until our mouths are only inches apart. His green eyes pierce mine as he declares, “I’m going to consume you, devour you - mind, body, and soul… You will be so immersed in me that I will be the only thing you see, feel, hear, taste, and smell. I’m going to fucking ruin you, Stella, so I ask—are you ready?”

  Anxiety is already coursing through me, and every word falling from his mouth is making me more nervous, causing it to become so much harder for me to be able to concentrate.

  “Wesley, I’m not—well, first of all, I’m not a sub, or a submissive.” My eyes dart around the room, assessing it for those slider bars, riding crops, and crosses that I read about in my books. However, my eyes can only see so much with both of his huge hands still holding my face. His eyes continue staring into mine, patiently waiting for an answer.

  “Stella, have you even considered the possibility that you are?” His hands cupping my face begin to glide down my neck, brushing their way across my chest as they slide over the top of my breast. His large, calloused palms slide over the silk of my dress until he reaches where my skirt is pulled up. The beautiful devious grin he flashes me has me nearly begging for him; all of the promises he laid out moments ago whirling through my mind.

  A moan escapes my throat and my head lolls back as his hand slides between my legs until he is sliding over my drenched swollen pussy and sinks a long deft finger inside me. He pulls out and sinks two fingers curling them up as his thumb circles my clit. “Holy. Fuck. Ohmygod.” I whine, instantly on the verge of begging.

  “Mmmm,” His nose nuzzles my ear before he sinks his teeth into my earlobe. “Fucking wet little cunt wants me doesn’t it, Ms. Reese?”

  “Shit. Wow. Holy shit.” I sputter. I can feel it already begin to pull as lights blink into my vision.

  I have only ever cum on my own. It never comes at me this fast. EVER.

  His fingers and thumb increase their pace and pressure. His husky words roll from his lips as they brush across the shell of my ear. “That wasn’t an answer to my question, Ms. Reese. Now, you’ve let two of my questions go unanswered.”

  I’m there, I’m at the precipice and I’m throwing myself over, letting go, ready to be pulled under.

  Suddenly his hand is gone, yanking me back from the edge. I blink at him in confusion, watching as he steps back away from me. He brings his hand up to his mouth and his eyes stay locked on mine as he slowly begins licking his two fingers around his damn beautiful devious grin. “Mmmm, if divinity ever had a taste, this would definitely fucking be it.”

  He continues stepping away from me at the bar until he reaches a large, dark brown leather chair. He sits before sinking back and resting his elbows on the arms of the chair. His eyes narrow on mine over his steepled fingers before he continues, “That tight little cunt of yours was clamping down around my fingers hard. Now…would you like for me to explain why I didn’t allow you to cum, Ms. Reese?”

  My mind is in a haze of ecstasy, my vision is so blurred I can hardly see him,
hell I’m barely able to make out his words and it takes me a moment to make sense of them. When I do, the haze clears and my vision blurs; but not from ecstasy, it blurs red from my rage.

  What in the hell did I just allow myself succumb to?

  “Wait—What? What the hell just happened? No—What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  I abruptly stand from the barstool and before I can yank my dress down, my fucking knees buckle and I’m on the damn floor.

  Wesley is instantly there helping me up.

  Well that wasn’t embarrassing or anything.

  “You know what the fuck is wrong with me, Ms. Reese. I just explained it. It may not have been very clear, but I did explain myself.”

  My trembling hands push my hair behind my ears. When I gather enough composure and I’m able to speak, I spit my words at him, “Wesley you don’t know a goddamn thing about me. You have no idea what the first seventeen years of my life consisted of; what I’ve had to do to get to where I am today. I am not a submissive or a sub or whatever. I am a fucking fighter. Because absolutely everything I am and everything that I possess, I’ve had to fight like hell to get.”

  I turn quickly to leave, but before I step out of the bar-slash-sitting area, I spin back around and narrow my eyes on his before I spew my parting words. “You can’t be a submissive or peek into the lifestyle, not when the only sexual encounters you’ve ever experienced were rapes and molestations by father, after foster father, after foster brother from the time you were a toddler. There, there’s your goddamn answer, Wesley. Good night.”

  I slam the door, stumbling from his penthouse to the elevator doors.

  Chapter 9

  Fucking Answers

  Huh. Well, that’s never happened before.

  I’m stumped. Yeah, at a loss for words. I’ve never been put in my place and I’ve never been hit by a curve ball.

  Dumfounded, I slouch back into the chair and let her words run through my mind over and over. I’m trying to convince myself I’d misheard what she said before she slammed out.

  Surely I didn’t hear her right. Right?

  “…the only sexual encounters you’ve ever experienced were rapes and molestations by father, after foster father, after foster brother from the time you were a toddler.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” I lean forward resting my elbows on my knees before rubbing my hands over my face. “That’s what she fucking said.” All I can do is shake my head in astonishment.

  I’m pissed at myself for shoving all my shit at her. I’m pissed at myself for honestly thinking I could talk her or force her into being my sub. And I’m seething pissed at myself for thinking I had any right to even lay a finger on her, much less in her.

  “I’m such a fucking asshole! Son of a bitch!” I leap from my leather chair and storm out of the room.

  Before I know what I’m doing, I’m in my office calling Derrick, the best PI in NYC who’s been in charge of any aspects of my life that I should call the police for, but don’t.

  He answers before I sit behind my desk, plowing my hands through my hair. “Speak.”

  “Derrick, I need some info and I need it by Monday morning.”

  “’Kay, you know the surcharge on expedited information. Name?”

  “Stella Jolie Reese. The file I have on her barely brushes the surface. Foster kid from the age seven. Shit load of foster homes throughout Louisiana. I don’t have the names of all the cities - and all my secretary could find were two foster homes - but there is mention of more.”

  “You want the full monty? Or are you just looking for answers during certain time frame?”

  “Full fucking monty, man. That’d be great.”

  “All right. I’ll have everything to you by Sunday night, Wes.”

  After I hang up, I sit in my office and stare at absolutely nothing for hours. My mind keeps splintering over and over as her words run their course on a loop in my mind.

  “You have no idea what the first seventeen years of my life consisted of. What I have had to do to get to where I am today. I am not a submissive… I am a fucking fighter. Because absolutely everything I possess, I’ve had to fight like hell to get.”

  “You can’t be a submissive or peek into the lifestyle when the only sexual encounters you’ve ever experienced were rapes and molestations by father, after foster father, after foster brother from the time you were a toddler. There, there’s your goddamn answer, Wesley.”

  I have a fighter on my hands.

  A shattered, damaged, little fighter.

  Once I get my answers, I’ll modify a stratagem.

  Just because I lost this little battle, does not mean I intend on conceding.

  I will readjust my tactics. Then I will fight a broken fighter.

  And I will fucking win.

  On Sunday night the file is faxed over from Derrick.

  The shit I see, the fucking shit in that file, comes extremely close to causing the scotch I’ve consumed to make reappearance.

  Stella Jolie Reese

  DOB May 10, 1988

  Female

  Caucasian

  Height: 5’7

  Last documented weight: 134 lbs

  Hair color: Brown

  Eye Color: Hazel

  Marital Status: Single

  Mother: Unknown

  Father: Fredrick Reese- found murdered at age 31. Police files indicate seven year old daughter (Stella Reese) was the only witness. All evidence points to the child committing the homicide in an effort to evade her father’s sexual abuse. Charges were never filed and child was placed in therapy. CPS placed child in the foster care system where she was placed in a foster home.

  Other living relatives: None

  During an exam immediately following the incident, the SAFE RN documentation states the following was found upon assessment:

  Over six broken bones noted via X-ray that appeared to go untreated. (See below):

  Both clavicles, mandible, maxilla, left femur, right humerus.

  The nurses’ notes also state there were multiple abrasions, lacerations and contusions. Some of which appeared to be recent as well as healing injuries.

  Also documented and photographed: Numerous bite marks covering the patient from neck to knees, most of which were located on the patient’s anterior thighs, genitalia and rectum.

  There was significant scarring as well as recent in appearance due to redness and swelling lacerations consistent with repeated sexual abuse. During sexual kit collection, speculum placed for assessment. Fluid noted at cervix specimen obtained, labeled at bedside and entered in to kit evidence. Blue dye spray applied during speculum exam for small tears unable to detect with naked eye. Pubic hair combed, stray strands collected and labeled, entered into evidence kit. All patient’s clothes removed per protocol and entered into specimen kit.

  Foster Parents:

  1) Mr. & Mrs. Blake Sims (1996-97)

  Pine Bluff, LA

  Child was admitted to the ER in Pine Bluff in 1997:

  Documentation states:

  Patient was brought into ER via EMS on a stretcher after students found patient (9 yo Stella Reese) in the bathroom of the school unconscious with copious amounts of blood around the patient. Upon assessment, after removing tampon and several pads 4th degree vaginal and rectal lacerations were noted consistent with extremely severe sexual abuse and rape. Patient stabilized with eight units of PRBC (packed red blood cells) infused per protocol. Social Services were consulted. Patient was discharged after three weeks per Child Protection Services to State of Louisiana.

  Charges against both Mr. and Mrs. Blake Sims were filed by the DA of Pine Bluff. Mrs. Sims charges were dropped due to lack of evidence. Mr. Sims was charged with rape of a minor. He served five years in Louisiana State Penitentiary.

  2) Mr. & Mrs. Jonathan Temple (1997-1999)

  Alexandria, LA

  During a therapy session between the child, Stella Reese, a Social Service Counselor, and a license
d psychiatrist in 1999, the patient, 11 yo Stella Reese admitted to being repeatedly molested by Mr. Jonathan Temple. Charges against Mr. Jonathan Temple were filed by the DA of Alexandria. Mr. Temple served three years in Louisiana State Penitentiary.

  3) Mr. & Mrs. George Long (1999)

  Ruston, LA

  During a therapy session between the child, Stella Reese, a Social Service Counselor, and a licensed psychiatrist in 1999, the patient, 11 yo Stella Reese admitted to suicidal ideations. When asked to verbalize the reasons behind this behavior, patient immediately began showing signs of PTSD. Pt was removed from Mr. and Mrs. Long’s residence and placed back into child protective services until a foster family becomes available.

  4) Mr. & Mrs. Joseph Smith (2000-2001)

  Shreveport, LA

  Stella Reese’s whereabouts remained unknown from July 4th 2001 until January 3rd 2004.

  In 2004, 16 yo Stella Reese was found living in an abandoned home on Texas Street.

  Documentation states 16 yo Stella Reese admitted to living in both the abandoned home as well as sleeping some nights in her high school library she’d been attending without knowledge of the State of Louisiana.

  CPS filed for a warrant to retrieve the following medical files:

  July 5, 2001- Time: 0018:

  911 phone call:

  “Hey there’s some chick passed out by Cross Lake.” —background unknown female voice—“Steve she isn’t breathing! Tell them she’s not fuckin’ breathing!”

  Male caller: “Umm… my girl says she isn’t breathing. I would stay, but I can’t be late for my curfew.”

  911 dispatcher: “Sir, I need you to remain where you are. Do you or your friend know CPR?”

  —Phone call ends. July 5, 2001- Time: 0020.

  Medical Records/ Doctors dictation notes/ Nurses notes:

  Dr. Cole- Dictation notes of patient currently known as Jane Doe (age unknown):

  Received patient via EMS to ER 1. Upon admission, patient status is unstable with a weak and thready pulse noted. EMS documentation states that patient was resuscitated via CPR and defibrillation. After patient stabilized, doctor assessment yields asphyxiation as well as first and second degree lacerations noted in and around vagina and rectum consistent with rape and/or sexual abuse. Lacerations were sutured using a 2.0 chromic suture times 2. Patient remains stable. Will continue to monitor.