by CELENE CAREY
Without waiting for her to finish, I left. I couldn’t afford for her to see me either way. She cannot know I’ve seen her bare her soul at a poetry showcase. She looked too fragile, but too sexy. I was going to break her. And then remake her. She’d get to keep the poetry. She had to. I’d break her in and soon. Before I lost it.
Before I could get out the door I called Claire and she was on her way. I rode speedily and by the time I got there, she was waiting by my door. I opened it.
“Inside.”
I had made Claire stay silent tonight. I didn’t want her voice ruining the replaying image and sound of Veronica up on that stage. Upon entry, I gagged her, stripped her, and kept her back to me, still a beautiful view. When I was done with her, I left her in the playroom and went to sleep in my decoy bed. When I woke up the next morning she was gone. Good. Veronica, sighing, I made my way to the shower, showering Claire and the smell of sex away. I had been gentle, soft on her. Soft on what I had pretended was Veronica. No slaps, no ties. I held her in place, pinned her to my sheets, and grinded into her pussy until she exploded on my dick and until my balls exploded into the condom.
Working today was easy; I had been in high spirits. My co-workers noticed. I vaguely remember seeing Claire in the canteen. We didn’t speak; I don’t have conversations with her at work either way. I might say a small “hi” if we are close enough in the line, but other than that I’d simply smile at her in a way that I knew gave her butterflies. She was so predictable, readable. Nothing like Veronica. With her quiet, her pussy had done me well last night. I was definitely in a good mood. Plus, it was Friday; the office was always peppy on a Friday, with everyone looking forward to the weekend.
I felt like doing something new today. I hit T up to see what he’d been up to. He’d gone to his kid’s football match and was making his way home. Though he was just a mechanic, he was an ideal husband; you see him or hear him talk about that boy and Shelly, you automatically see the white picket fence. We made plans to go chill at a strip club off the strip later on that night; both of us going solely to look, and enjoy a few drinks. I wasn’t trying to have some chick on my lap getting my dick hard, and he wasn’t trying to go home smelling like another woman and having Shelly-Ann killing his black half-Indian ass. Boys will be boys, but we don’t play with just any toy. He’d say, “Amen to that, my nigga” in his heavy accent. I always wondered if he was just afraid of her and that was why he’d been that faithful; Shelly didn’t attract me in any way. But every man has his own thing that tickles his fancy, and by the way he spoke, Shelly-Ann tickled all of his. I shook the thought away as it tried to creep up on me.
Chapter 4
Dream or Make Believe
Claire Bell
Wow... What was that? Last night was too amazing, short-lived, but amazing all the same. Bill had called me, not too late at night. Adam wasn’t home. Where was he? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. He sounded winded, desperate, wanting. We didn’t speak, he just had me from behind, and it was different, magical. He...he made love to me. Did he? Was that what that was? What had gotten into him? Was this happening for real? Did he just fall in love with my pussy, or me? Was it possible was I being naive? I didn’t think I was. People wake up and realise they are making stupid mistakes all the time. What if this was going to be my happy ending?
The conversation had gone, the instructions had gone.
“Are you home?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Shower, get dressed… jogging clothes, whatever you must. You need to be by the loft now.”
What? Huh? Now? He calls randomly all the time, but I had gotten used to a pattern. Thursday night? Work the next morning? But, he wanted me and I went willingly. I’d deal with Adam whenever it is he decided to come home. If he did. I went to my neighbour and asked her to watch Alex; he could play with her little girl, Joy. I took off in shorts and a half-top. Drove at every speed limit; I wasn’t trying to get a ticket, but I was trying to get somebody. I giggled to myself.
He ball-gagged me by the door, pulled my clothes off, pulled his off, all in the darkness of his living room and then we made our way to the master bedroom.
I sang to myself in the copy room, “Tonight, we’re gonna do something different; tonight we’re gonna touch a little different.” I was humming my way through the day. Things were looking up, oh, finally. I shook the feeling of disbelief I had been feeling. This was not a dream, if it was I never intended to wake up. Adam had finally come home. My whereabouts hadn’t been in question as I got back before he came in at eleven forty-two. Safe. I was looking forward to a good weekend. My boss had even noticed.
“Ms. Bell? It was a good night?” she jokingly asked, a little before my lunch time. I relived the slow pace Bill had put on me. It was different, good different. I wasn’t embarrassed; I was fucked the right way last night. I hope it continued this way from now on. Maybe I won’t feel the need to go back to Adam anymore. Though I still didn’t know how Bill felt about kids. When he found out I was pregnant, I was banished to some extent, no calls, nothing. Did he know what the sex drive of a woman in her third trimester was like? I had a hard delivery and Adam hadn’t touched me either. My motivation to get my body back after the baby had worked. After all, celebs do it all the time.
I sighed in bliss; I saw his tall darkness in the canteen. I was getting wet from just seeing him. Most women got butterflies, I got fluids. He didn’t see me, but seeing him had me wanting him to cock me up in the tea room. I smirked; I could be a slut sometimes. Slutty in the good way, of course. I smiled, my hips were in full swing today and I was not paying anyone any mind. I was finally getting my man, THE man. Things couldn’t get any better.
When I think about it, though, there’s always room for improvement. I was getting ahead of myself. I thought about going to visit him at the office, but I know how he dislikes having his time being wasted. Maybe I could just go visit my old colleagues. I went. He wasn’t there. I did, however, say “hi” to all the familiar faces. I saw his new assistant... she was everything I wasn’t. I wondered if he’d been fucking her. Then I remembered his policy. She looked a little over-dressed for work. My god, is that how I looked while I was trying to get his attention? I made a mental note to send a memo about appropriate work attire on my way back to my floor. Call me a hypocrite, but I was only doing my job. I don’t need her trying to steal my man when I had finally made a dent in our now-developing and on-track relationship.
Chapter 5
What happens in the mind
Veronica
Bill was having his way with me from behind, rubbing my clit slowly, entering me slowly. My face was buried in the sheets, hands behind my back as he held them in one hand and used the other to sink my back, angling my ass perfectly for his dick. His thickness was filling me. Plunging slowly, I could feel him watching my body react as he nested himself deep inside me, curling to my unborn children. I realised I’d been holding my breath the entire time as I adjusted to his width and length.
I woke from my dream to Jonathan shaking me softly and kissing my neck.
“You were making moaning noises in your sleep,” he said. With that, he disappeared beneath the sheets. I felt him slowly kissing down my stomach to my navel, slowly circling his tongue, kissing downward, nibbling my mound through my cotton underwear. I sighed as a ripple of pleasure surged through me at the feel of his hot breath on my most sensitive area. He parted my legs and kissed my panty line, licked each side. He then kissed my inner thigh and removed my underwear as he kissed down to my feet and made his way back up. Slowly, he traced my slit. His warm tongue had made me wet in that very nano-second. He parted my folds, slowly licked my juices, and tongue-fucked me, slowly at first. Then he circled my clit, pressing the tip of his tongue to it. Thrusting my hips gently forward, I held his head with one hand and my mouth with the other. I knew it was probably early in the morning; I looked over at the digital alarm clock, 3:00 a.m. I was loud; I knew that. Bi
ting my bottom lip, I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging so he knew I was enjoying him eating me out. It motivated him. He began a slow assault on the tiny pleasure button between my clit and hole. I kept thinking go, go, go, go, as Jonny ate his midnight snack and I came all over his mouth.
I laid panting, my heart rushing and pussy pulsing as he climbed up and allowed me the pleasure of sucking myself from his chin and lips. He entered me, stroked me, buried his face beside mine, and quietly, slowly penetrated me over and over again until we both orgasmed. He moaned my name as he came. I rolled over and fell asleep.
***
I’d finally done it. I’d poured my soul out in “Lust and Temptation.” I felt alive, I felt nervous, I felt nauseated, but I felt an emotional freedom on that stage. Emancipated and ready to take on anything, liberated. I felt like I was being watched, well of course you were being watched, idiot, by a crowd of almost 30 people. I had felt a familiar energy, one that intimidated me. I told Jonathan I’d finally done it. He’s gone with me before, but never heard me do a poem. “Babes, that’s great!” he genuinely said, “Can I hear it?”
“It’s a new one, you’ve never read it. The rush is gone. I probably can’t remember it,” I made up excuses, because the moment he read or heard it he’d know I’d been lusting for a different man. He’d know that I wasn’t talking about him. The poems I’d written about him weren’t as good, but they weren’t coming from the same place this one was. Plus, he knew I was not very confident about performing in front of people, especially him. I didn’t know how to show that side of me to any one person. On that stage, I am a different person, the adrenaline, the hair saluting on the back of my neck, the way what happens in my mind comes out perfectly from my lips. All along my words had been my voice, though I had been afraid of it. Silly... Afraid of my own voice.
Jonny being home this often seemed to come around at the wrong time. I got good at hiding things, hiding my thoughts; he’d been good at first because I had worn my heart on my sleeve, but I’d been feeling my heart less and less these days, my body had been crying out instead. Was the secret to letting go my sexual freedom? Had I been keeping a leash on it that was too tight? I’ve written a sexual poem before, but nothing like “Lust and Temptation,” more sex, less passion…That poem was pure desire and raw passion. I’ve never felt that good, not listening to anyone, not writing anything, not even an orgasm compared to the high I’d been on while performing…Okay, maybe orgasm was a little extreme. You know what I mean, don’t you?
I needed to feel Bill inside me, and soon. My mind had been so corrupted, so starved. If I watched one more BDSM porn video I’d probably burst. It soon became my favourite category on the tube site I so frequently visited in my earlier years. I watched and I paid attention. The acting was poor, as usual, but I paid attention nonetheless. Sexy girl tied up and fucked in both holes, BDSM, my favourite.
The dreams were continuing. I was afraid Jonathan would soon hear me moan Bill’s name in my sleep. I wasn’t about to say his name in another man’s bed; our bed. I let him eat me as much as I could. It was a quick orgasm; he was very good at it. The more orgasms, the less I’ll dream about sex, I’d thought. It didn’t work. I had to have full-on sex to stop the dreams. When Jonny was too tired, I let him lay there and rode him condomless to an orgasm. He didn’t complain. He could tell something was wrong, but he expected me to talk about it when I was ready like we normally did. Except this time was different; there was no way I was going to tell Jonathan that I’d been fantasizing and dreaming about a man that wanted to do aggressive things to me.
It was Friday evening, and I didn’t have anything to do once again; I called Becky.
“Heyyyy?” she drawled; I heard her turn her blow dryer off. Becky was a stud, she explained to me one day, not a butch, but definitely not a fem. She wore her long mane in a ponytail caught to the back. “I don’t want another girl fucking me. I’ll do all the fucking and if I feel like it, I’ll let her eat me out. But I usually get off from getting her off,” she’d answered to my inquisitiveness. I’d regretted asking the question the moment it came out of my mouth.
“Nothing here, bored. Jonny’s covering some event, ecstatic Fridays, I think. Boredddd. What you up to? Have you heard anything from Kim?” Kimberley was the “middle friend,” we were besties, but Kim had fit in some time ago; I don’t even remember how we met.
“Getting ready to go check this girl from Hampton. She’s country but cute. I could ditch and keep you company if you want. We could watch a movie or something, and no, the last time I heard from her, Kim told me she was going Stalin and I haven’t heard from her since.”
“Nah, that’s okay, I don’t want to ruin your plans. I hope Kim doesn’t try to mix up with anybody who claims they know black magic to try and tie that man she keeps talking about down. Tell me about this girl. What’s she look like?” I joked about Kim.
I really could care less about the girl, but Becky was my best friend and sometimes I missed her. So hearing her talk was good.
“Kkkkkaayyy, the girl has an ass! Jesus! Wanna eat her out from behind. You might be straight, but even you would’ve admitted she’s really hot.”
I laughed to myself, rolling my eyes. Right… However, I had to hand it to Becky, she had taste. I’ve met a few of her girls. Most of them didn’t like me. Either they pretended they weren’t attracted to me and acted bitchy, or they saw the way Becky looked at me sometimes and jealousy got the best of them; some of them even had that jealousy issue when there was nothing at all to be jealous about, not that there ever was, but still. Lesbians are super-protective apparently. Becky’s told me stories of her friends beating other girls for their women, even in the middle of Half-Way-Tree. Guess chilling with her was out of the picture. I let her entertain me while she got herself together for her “date.” Do Australian’s even know the meaning of what a date is? I’ve never heard a couple actually say they were dating. Somehow, the courting process had died with pop culture and prostitutes.
“Aaaahhh”
“You sure you’re okay, Kay?”
Why didn’t Becky call me Veronica like everybody else? Kay was such a common name. I had stopped paying attention to her, wasn’t sure what in god’s name she was talking about now.
“Yeah, I’m ight, guess I’mma go to sleep.”
“My offer still stands, I’ll bail on this chick if you want me to. Laters.” She didn’t wait for a reply because she knew she wouldn’t get one. Becky knew me well. What was it with human desire? We either chase what we can’t have, what we shouldn’t have, or run circles around the sun trying to attain what we know will never be ours deep down. Weakness, that’s it. Humans are weak. Strong in the flesh, but weak in the heart and mind. Why men cheat, why women cheat, all came down to sins of the flesh. I laid back, meditating, well, not really, more like contemplating. Groaning, rubbing my neck, and flexing my back I got up; YouTube will be my friend. I Googled my favourite poem and listened to a pretty brown girl with a kinky afro tell her secret of being a closeted freak. Is that me? Am I that girl? I’d never be that girl. But could I be content with being a backdoor whore, a girl on the side? Why?
When I had a man who I knew would, in fact, someday wife me? It’s hard to say you want something so much less. Like a fool giving up deep joy for shallow happiness…simply because my body wanted it. Lust. It was the sin of my mind. Why was I able to fantasize the way I could, what kind of “gift” was that? Temptation. Why was I yearning for him the way I was? What would I be earning? Nothing better than the ultimate joy. There was no complete happiness. I had to give something up before something got the best of me.
Hours passed. And there I was, sure I was going to fuck Bill. I stopped lying to myself. I refuse to feel guilty. Many women act like they aren’t tigresses on the prowl for fresh dick. Well, I’m a woman, and a woman who will not be chained to judgment and stereotyping.
Chapter 6
The Taste of Success
Veronica
Jonathan wasn’t home. Most nights he wasn’t. When the news hit, he wasn’t. When the incursion took place, for example, I’d worried, he’d been excited. He wanted to write the best story ever. I understood the desire, I wanted to write the best poem ever. We had that artsy thing in common. We didn’t agree on everything, like his taste in music versus mine, or the way he dressed sometimes, but he had been “my forever and always from the beginning.” That was a line from a poem I wrote about him, it stuck, and it soothed my need for a description. What was I going to do? I’d been so sure I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. And now I wasn’t? I was driving myself crazy going back and forth with him about this.
I went to work. Evening came. The haunting hadn’t ceased, it hadn’t gotten any better. This was beyond me. I had been having severe lower back pains; I assumed it was from either sitting with poor posture or from standing too long over Sophia. Days had passed since I agreed to be Bill’s sub and the only sexual action between us had been when he publicly humiliated me at my own will in the closet at Ray’s. Though no one knew what was happening, a part of me, the part that thought, was still embarrassed. It was all a part of the game. It was time to pull up my socks and start playing hard ball. I was going to make him want me as much as I wanted him.