by Anna Chillon
“So?” I blurted out, with my hand on my side holding my spleen in. “What do I deserve this time?”
“Christ,” he swore, hardly believing his ears. He took another couple of deep breaths that he sorely needed. “You want to be punished?”
“It's the only way to get your attention. So why not?”
He lifted his hand to gesticulate. “For this shit you made me spend three hours of hell? Do you have a vague idea of what’s been going around in my head?”
I lifted my chin insolently. “I suppose you’ve been thinking about how to justify yourself with Dad for losing me.”
“I thought of you, fuck! Of what the hell was going on for you not to answer your phone! Of how I might’ve found you, attacked, hurt, always arriving too late! Always late!” He leaned forward and grabbed me, squeezing me in his arms with equal amounts of anger and relief. “Never do that again, Giada!”
Stupid me, I didn’t think what it would be like for him to think someone he cared for was in danger. Worried not to get there in time to save her. Now I understood, I felt his chilling fear, fuelled by old fears rooted in the past and I felt sorry for awakening those feelings in him. I felt his heart accelerating as he held me tight and all I wanted to him to do was to wrestle me a bit, shaking my breath out completely. That was what I deserved.
“I'm sorry. I was angry.”
He pressed his lips against my head, wrapping me in his arms. “I found you, baby. You're OK, you're OK,” he said to calm himself. Only then he remembered that there was an audience on the other side of the field that had witnessed a man running to capture a young girl, so he let me go. “Let's go home.”
I stepped back. “I won’t come until you tell me where you were.”
He stretched out an arm inviting me to give him my hand. “We’ll talk at home.”
I looked at him and put my arms behind my back, unhooking my fingers from the fence. “I want to know now.”
“Giada” he pronounced my name as a warning.
“Please, please...” I whimpered as I bit my upper lip as tears stung my eyes. “Tell me what she wanted from you.”
He let his hand drop at his side, softened by my most powerful weapon: imploring, tear filled eyes. “Help. Only that, nothing more,” he replied. “Her mother wasn’t well.”
“Who is she?”
Vincent hesitated, as if he didn’t want to answer me, but in the end he did. “She’s a girl like you, as sweet and sensitive as you are, but she’s not you. I took her photographs for an audition. She’s had several misfortunes in her life, it was really important for her to have some luck for once.”
“Naked pictures?”
“In swim wear. It was a contest to become the face of a famous bikini line, she won it and we went out to dinner. That's all. Remember? She phoned me while we were at my house, the evening of the show, I told her we would celebrate, you heard it. I don’t go out with her in the way you and your friends have interpreted.” He waved his palms as if he had nothing else to add. “That’s everything and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Do you feel calmer now?”
He had an explanation for everything, which either meant he was a good liar, or that he was actually telling the truth. And Vincent wasn’t a man to hide behind lies, not with yours truly. “OK I believe you.”
“I don’t like that you’ve doubted me over this.” He grabbed my hand, but I pulled it back with a groan, and he noticed the wound I’d got when I fell over. He opened my palm to inspect it. “What’ve you done?”
“I fell over.”
“Did you do it on purpose?”
“No, why would I?”
He stared at me intently. “Sometimes I don’t understand if you’re taking the piss out of me or you're really so stupid.” He walked behind me to the car. He opened the door for me and closed it to make sure I got in.
It took five minutes to drive those three miles that I’d walked in three quarters of an hour.
“Send a message to Simon to tell him you're OK.” He recommended before we got home.
I leaned forward puzzled, trying to work his expression out. “Strange that you worry, since you can’t stand him.”
He shrugged. “He helped me find you. In the end he was mature enough to understand that you came before his jealousy. I can’t deny it, but it doesn’t mean that I trust him. I don’t think he'll keep our secret for long.”
They were able to avoid killing each other, that was already something. However, I didn’t expect that their exchange would have been all roses, that in the end they must’ve been hiding the spikier part of their encounter.
I got a good look at him: no bruises, maybe they had worked it out with words. The way Vincent slammed the door when he came home made me understand that I wouldn’t have got away with it so easily.
“Do you want attention?” He said, locking the door with the key. “You’ll get it, sugar.” He made the word ‘sugar’ sound like something opposite to sweet.
He took the bottle of pure alcohol from under the kitchen sink and made me a sign for me to move closer to him. “First off we disinfect.”
“There's disinfectant in the bathroom.”
“It doesn’t matter. Come here.” He undid his cuffs and started rolling up his sleeves.
I stayed impaled to the spot, my hand was burning enough as it was, the wound was still open. I made a fist. “You’re crazy.”
“And you’re irresponsible. You can’t just turn on your heel and go whenever something doesn’t go exactly as you want. I won’t tolerate it.” He raised the bottle to the sink, ready to pour the pink liquid. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Come here.”
I went because, damn it, I was proud and wanted to show him how courageous I was. He stood behind me, made me open my hand, held me by the wrist and began to pour the alcohol over it. It burnt like crazy, I resisted only a moment before I shouted out. “Ow! It burns!”
Vincent's pelvis pressed me against the sink, his chest against my back. While the fire on my hand was renewed, he completely immobilized me. It lasted longer than necessary, until I stopped resisting and I realized I could bear it. The pain expanded, pulsating up to my wrist, in a way that I could’ve even defined as pleasant, if only it wasn’t a totally crazy thought.
Slowly, I opened my fingers and stopped trying to escape.
“How can I take away your insecurities? I’ve got no way of making you understand.” He put the bottle down and took my hand, holding it open. “You have to distinguish two types of pain, little one. There's what I can do to you for fun, or to punish you when you do things to spite me as I've done so far. Or there’s the one... that I feel.”
I frowned, not catching on.
He continued. “I don’t ever want to feel how I felt today again, to worry that something’s happened to you and relive my past. I can force myself again to endure other senseless losses, but not you. So I’d really like you to experience the intensity of the pain so that you can distinguish them and see which one of the two you don’t ever want to feel again, just like me. It would be a way to let you know what level you can consider yourself mine before you can escape me.” He squeezed me, his low voice whispering in my ear. “I’d do it. If you were older, less fragile and delicate. If your skin was not that of a peach, I’d do it, I would indelibly mark you and you would never forget either of those two things: pain and possession. But Giada...” he closed his eyes. “I can’t do it to you.” He shook his head. “You need to be happy and free: you have your whole life ahead of you.”
I cried for that early goodbye, pronounced even before I saw a detachment that didn’t have to happen. “I wish you would do it.”
I wanted to be his in every possible way, to dedicate my happiness and my pain in the same measure because both depended on him. It seemed to me that I had never lived or experienced anything before him.
“And then it’d be me that was crazy,” he said. “I won’t do it, so know that any pain I make you feel is nothing
compared to what I could’ve done to you.” He turned on the tap and washed the salty tears off my face. Taking me under the arms he lifted me up me to sit on the sink, took my face in his wet hands, and kissed me passionately, with my legs wrapped around his waist.
After that he used a white napkin to bandage my palm and then lifted me into his arms. I was so light that he didn’t have to use much strength. He took me upstairs as if I were a little girl, into my room, and put me down in front of my bed.
“It's time to put them on.” He was referring to his shirt and the panties, still waiting for my tantrums. “I’ll make something to eat and wait for you downstairs. I suggest you don’t go down till you have those, and only those on,” he was very clear.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“To heat up one of your famous frozen pizzas.”
“And then?”
“And then you'll see. In fact you’ll feel.”
Yes, of course, I didn’t think I’d got away with it so easily.
In my room I stripped, jumped into the bathroom to have a little wash, then I put on the shirt that had the unmistakable smell of his laundry and the purple, rather transparent panties. He’d said ‘only those,’ so I left my hair loose and went down the stairs.
He’d set the table and was carrying two plates with a steaming pizza divided into two, just so as not to leave our stomachs too empty. Two open Tennents were waiting for us, one each: what an honour.
He put down our supper and stopped to look at me. I was lost inside that shirt, so wide that my hands disappeared and so long it reached my knees. Yet, judging by his gaze, I must have appeared seductive.
He unbuttoned his cuffs and started rolling his sleeves up intimidatingly. “Now I’ll take care of you, sugar,” He Mumbled with a put on big loud voice.
He laughed genuinely amused, throwing his head back, stretched out to take me by the shirt and pulled me close. He gave me a fleeting kiss, then started undoing the buttons from top to bottom until he pulled it open, checking that I had the panties on.
“Leave it like that and sit down. We’ll eat.”
We ate and mostly drank as he did nothing but steal a glimpse at what he could see, until he suddenly stretched out his index and completely pushed the fabric aside to reveal my naked breast. I stayed that way for the rest of the dinner, but I couldn’t raise my eyes to meet his.
“Are you still ashamed when I look at you?” He asked.
“It's the way you do it,” I said.
“What way? The way I’m thinking of how I’m going to mistreat that point that’s rising like a small obelisk?”
I hid the smile between my teeth and peeking noticed that he was right: my nipple had hardened just by feeling watched. He reached out his frozen Tennent’s and brushed it with the glass leaving it damp.
I put the last bite of pizza down swallowing, feeling a wicked emptiness that couldn’t be filled with food, but yearned for much more. “You're torturing me like this.”
“You’re so impatient,” he said, taking a sip.
Perhaps he wanted me to wait to punish me for the time he’d wasted looking for me? Our precious and scarce available time. At that moment I felt a lot of guilt. “Vince, I didn’t think about how much you might’ve worried about me today. I was angry because of how you left, but I didn’t want to make you suffer.”
“It’s in the past. And then tonight you’re going to give me something that’ll overcome the fear you put into me.”
“What do you mean?”
“While I clear the table I want you to go into your room and lie down on the bed. Take off your panties like a good girl.”
“Do you want to spank me?” Just thinking about it I felt excited and a little frightened.
“I’m not going to spank you, baby.” He took the dishes to the sink. “Go.”
Whatever he was going to do, deep down I knew I’d asked for it, but obeying cost me a bit of pride because the blame for what had happened wasn’t just mine. Anyway, I climbed the stairs, brushed my teeth, took off my panties and lay down on the bed on my stomach as requested, waiting in trepidation.
Vincent arrived shortly afterwards and took all his clothes off while I peeked out of the corner of my eye, biting my index finger. There was a strange calm, due to the remorse I felt, which seemed to anticipate the arrival of an unexpected torment.
He, with calm determination lay down beside and a bit on top of me, caressed my buttocks, moved my hair and gently kissed my neck. “Stop biting your nails, baby,” he whispered. “Tonight you’ll be good and let me do anything to you. You’ll prove that you trust me and you won’t rebel. Agreed?”
I felt my heart in my throat, but I tried to keep calm. “All right, you can do whatever you want to do.”
“Right answer.” His cock protruded against my side, satisfied with my assertion.
The caress, from the buttocks moved further down, between my legs. “You're already wet, as I was hoping.” He pulled the pillow out from under my head and slipped it under my belly. He lifted up his shirt, rolling it at the waist, completely revealing my buttocks.
“You haven’t got a condom on,” I objected, feeling his penis rubbing pleasantly on the lips of my pussy.
“Do you think I could forget something like that? We don’t need one.”
His fingers smoothed my hair off my neck, where he paused to kiss and bite me. “When I took you the first time you fought like an ox, you were a little girl who didn’t understand what was happening to her. Now you surrender, you can’t wait for me to do it again.”
“Because I'm not afraid anymore,” I purred like an ecstatic cat.
“That’s not true, you’re still afraid and I'll show you right away. Look.” He guided his penis, slid it from the wet warmth between my thighs in between my buttocks, pushing it against my little hole.
I opened my eyes and mouth wide as I realized what devilish plans he had in his head this time. I quickly moved my hand behind my back to push his hip back trying to stop him from moving forward, extremely tempted to shake him off completely.
Feeling my nerves tensing he prepared for my imminent possible reaction and stiffened, ready to block me. “I know it's too soon for you: you only discovered sex a few weeks ago, but you've surprised me, you've managed to abandon yourself earlier than I imagined. You like it, you’re already capable of enjoying it and I, in my impatience, want to take you even further with me. If you trust me, it will be beautiful and intense.”
It was hard to imagine it as a beautiful thing when it seemed to be so unnatural. I didn’t know anything about the subject apart from that it could be extremely unpleasant and embarrassing. I was honest when I said that I’d let him do whatever he wanted, but I didn’t imagine that was what he meant.
“I don’t know...”
“But I do, I know what I’m doing. You just have to let go, I’ll worry about all the rest.” His fingers replaced his penis, softly tickling in that area. “Remember at the exhibition? It wasn’t so bad after all.”
That night I’d complained, but then I lost my head desperately when he left me unsatisfied. And now those same indecent sensations that had disturbed me were re-appearing. Part of me really wanted to abandon myself and despite his intentions I was frightened. Another part was beaten: I seemed to be on edge of a cliff, in the process of being blown off by a breath of wind. A gust that quickly came, exhaled by his mouth: “I don’t want any condoms to separate us this evening. I want to come inside you, in peace, to feel you while I do; not a glove, not a hand, but you, little one, welcoming me to the end. Don’t you want that too?”
Wow. Here my spirit of self-preservation finally said goodbye to me and took the shape of a foolish girl in love. The one who took all that Vincent could give her as a great gift and that he would never refuse anything that came from that man.
“Yes... I do,” I heard a trembling whimper, a vibration that echoed from my lips to my feet.
I
accepted so unconsciously, so uneasily, already lost on that road.
He breathed deeply against my neck, inhaling my skin and making me tremble even more. “Then don’t resist, I'll give you everything and I'll make sure you like it.”
His middle finger was wet on my slit, circling and insisting more on my little orifice. It already seemed to me too invasive, but I resisted the impulse of resisting him and abandoned myself to what he had in store for me.
I squashed my nose against the sheets, fighting those strange feelings, now uncomfortable, now stimulating in a shameful way. He tried to prepare me, but the truth was that nothing could have prepared me for the member who wanted to squeeze into the darkest places, like a thief. The thief of all my virginities.
I felt his hardness when Vincent moved on top of me, placing himself in-between my legs and laying his helmet right on my little ring. The pressure increased, he proceeded very slowly, in silence and in total immobility. By doing so, he made me concentrate completely on that one gesture, loading it with all his mental and physical strength.
I held my breath the whole time, emitting a weak moan, and for the whole time he whispered imperceptibly and continuously in my ear. “Yes, little one, here it is, it's yours... can you feel it, baby?” The sound of the most arduous sensuality, while millimeter after millimeter was travelling in my bowels.
“Go on, good girl, let it happen. Yes, little bird, relax, try a bit more...” continuing his hypnotic mantra, pervading every nerve, every muscle, every cell.
“Listen to me, push a little,” he said, close to putting it all inside.
I had neither the intention nor the strength to move a single muscle.
“Do it, little one, it’ll help you... trust me.” When he came out a little and then went back to sink more brutally and deeper, it was worse. I sealed my lips tight shut, but I couldn’t resist, a sob moved up my throat freeing the cry that was building up in my throat, from pain and so many other things that had knotted. It was a docile and silent cry, with no pretense of rebellion.
“Shhh. You're very good, baby. I know how much it costs you, but now it’ll pass, you’ll see.” He pushed my hair behind my ear, the back of his hand stroking my warm face. “You’re my brave little girl. I promise it’ll pass soon.”