Glamour
Page 16
While sometimes it felt otherwise, everything was also Natalie’s choice. She could opt not to give the price Dexter determined. That too would be met by consequences. Which did she want: the reward or the punishment? In all things, the final decision was hers.
A mortifying change in Natalie’s life was bathing. Due to his rule about self-gratification, taking a bath wasn’t allowed to be done in private. It wasn’t enough that she knew Dexter could watch via cameras: he insisted on being present. At first, he physically bathed her as if she were a toddler in need of assistance. When it was his hand that wielded the sponge or cloth, she was rewarded with rich-smelling bath salts, soaps, shampoo, and conditioner. And then after he’d dry her—all of her—he’d instruct her to lie on the mattress and he’d cover her skin in velvety lotions. The scents varied, but their presence permeated the musty air, creating a pleasant cloud.
Though Dexter claimed she was his, that she belonged to him, Natalie didn’t really know him. His touch made her uneasy. Subconsciously, she’d tense.
Nothing remained subconscious—nothing. Dexter required her thoughts and feelings on everything he did, that she made him do, and on every reward or punishment.
“Tell me how it felt when I slapped you.”
“It hurt.” The answer was honest and not overthought.
“No, bug.” Dexter touched her chest, the spot between her breasts where her heart metaphorically resided. “How did it feel?”
The talking was worse than the actions.
It was one thing to be made to stand in a corner for hours, like a rebellious child. It was another to describe the humiliation. It was one thing to be required to crawl to his feet and sit like a pet between his knees, another to admit that the shame made her wet.
Without a mirror, she couldn’t see her face, but she could see the bruises that often discolored her skin. The first one on her thigh had faded, but others had materialized. Some were felt more than seen, such as those that sometimes made sitting difficult. Others resulted from restraints or the hard floor.
After Natalie confessed that she didn’t like being bathed, Dexter stopped. Since he’d listened, she should have been happy. Yet she wasn’t. From that time forward, the soap he brought to her each day for her bath was abrasive and strong-smelling. The water without the bath salts reeked of sulfur and dried her skin. The shampoo barely lathered, and of course, the lotions ceased to appear. Natalie was now free to bathe herself—with his supervision—but her honesty came with a price.
Over the weeks, her life became a predictable routine. Sometimes she’d wake before he arrived with her breakfast, other times she was asleep. No matter, she quickly learned the sound of his arrival, and after a few slow-to-rise mornings that resulted in his desired punishment, Natalie always stood as she’d been instructed, presenting herself for his entry.
After breakfast was exercise time. There weren’t many options in a 12-by-8-foot room. Dexter’s requirement was that she continued to move. Walk, dance, run in place, do jumping jacks, or sit-ups, the choice was hers, but standing still or sitting or lying upon the bed—the only furniture that remained permanently in her room—was forbidden. This activity continued nonstop and lasted until he arrived with her lunch. Though she had no way to tell the time, she knew it varied. Some days, exercise went on and on until continuing to pace took the last of her energy.
Meals were earned, never to be expected. Usually she sat with Dexter at the small table. Sometimes she was permitted the covering of her blanket, other times not. If he were feeling particularly dominant, she ate on the floor, at his feet, her food coming from his fingers. She soon learned that the number of chairs at the table was the deciding factor. As she stood in his desired position, her breathing would quicken if the door shut with only one chair in place.
It meant her walking for the day was done. On all fours, she’d approach his feet.
Between lunch and dinner was what Dexter referred to as his time. It was when Natalie’s job—her ability to earn a reward—was contingent upon his pleasure and often her humiliation. He’d remind her that only he could do these things to her, only he could mark her skin and debase her. The world would see her as his queen, but first, she needed to please her king.
As the weeks passed, her virginity stayed intact.
It wasn’t that he didn’t touch her; he did. His fingers and hands roamed her face, neck, and collarbone. She’d stand or lie—whatever position he requested—as her breasts, tummy, and behind were pleased or punished. He saw all of her, yet he never breached her vagina.
The inattention to that particular area, combined with his actions and dominating presence, awakened her arousal, creating a desire for things she’d never before considered. Erotic, sensual needs monopolized her thoughts.
Where at first she’d thought of her parents and family, over time, it happened less and less. It wasn’t because she didn’t care about them, but that they lost their relevance. Dexter was in control of every facet of her life.
He was her god and her devil. His presence and approval infiltrated even her dreams.
At night, her hands would ache to give herself relief. When he’d first forbidden her self-pleasure, she’d thought it would be the easiest rule to keep. Now, it was nearly impossible. There were even times that her hands wandered in her sleep. Quickly, she’d awaken and move them within sight of the cameras, scared she’d lose the bedding she’d earned, with merely one rub of her clit.
Masturbating had never dwelled within her thoughts, but when she was alone with the memories of his most recent Dexter-time, the need was almost too great not to face. She recalled the way her hands had been outstretched and tied to the bed’s metal frame. How her knees were bent beneath her and a bar had been positioned, attached to her ankles and also bound to the bed. How he’d verbally described his view.
Tears dampened her pillow at the memory. It was mortifying enough to know she’d been on display, her ass in the air and her most private parts exposed, but when that was accompanied by her own body’s betrayal, a glistening essence leaking down her thighs, it added to her agony.
Bathing was next on the schedule after Dexter-time and then dinner.
After dinner, there were minutes or hours before the lights went out. That time was spent either alone or in Dexter’s presence. That was up to him, his schedule, and his responsibilities.
Natalie didn’t know what he did when he wasn’t with her. She knew nothing about anything beyond the door. All that could be seen from her designated place, the place where she was to stand when he entered or exited—assuming she wasn’t bound or being punished—was a gray hallway, the opposite wall made of concrete blocks.
Wherever Dexter went or whatever he did, he was clean and smelled of fresh air and spicy musk whenever he entered her room. Wherever he spent his time away from her, it wasn’t in a dingy cement room. Despite the things he did to her, she found herself missing him when he was gone. Maybe he’d been right. Maybe she was insane. Who would actually want this man’s presence?
The only true measure of time came with her period. She’d always been regular: every four weeks like clockwork. Telling him wasn’t necessary: she’d awakened with the realization.
Of all the humiliations she’d endured, this wasn’t one. While she anticipated his anger over the soiled sheets and even perhaps demoralizing words, she hadn’t expected his understanding. Feminine hygiene products appeared and her schedule lightened. Natalie wanted to tell him that she wasn’t ill. It wasn’t like needing a pass to be excused from gym class. Yet the reprieve was welcomed.
His only demand was that she inform him when it was complete.
That had been over a week ago, and now lunch was done. Since her return to their regular schedule, Dexter-time had taken on new vigor, as if during the reprieve he’d conjured new ways to let her earn the kindness he’d already paid to her.
With Natalie bent over the foot of the bed, the metal frame bruising her hipbo
nes and her face upon the mattress, Dexter ran his hand over her behind. His large palm warmed her skin as his touch roamed, teasing the edges of her core. Each day she fidgeted more, wanting the violation she’d previously feared. He spread her essence over her thighs, wordlessly acknowledging her arousal.
Natalie whimpered against the soft bedcovering. Tears of unsatisfied need pooled upon the comforter. She gasped for breath, her dissatisfaction coming as a sob.
“Talk to me, bug.”
Sometimes it was easier to talk when he had her in these positions. She couldn’t see his deep ocean eyes or decipher his thoughts. She was free to talk without witnessing the consequences. “O-okay.”
“Tell me what you’re feeling.”
She hated that question most of all. Instead of answering the way she always did, admitting her embarrassment, she threw caution to the wind. “Frustrated.”
His hand stilled on her ass. “About?”
She shifted her footing. “Me. I’m so confused.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “I’ve never felt this way before.”
“This way?” It was Dexter’s turn to parrot.
Her core clenched. “I need…I want to come.” She was a virgin, not a nun. She knew the relief brought on by an orgasm. Though her cheeks caught fire with her confession, there was also relief.
“How?” he asked.
“How?”
Dexter leaned near to her tearstained face. “How do you want to come? My fingers, tongue, or cock?”
The latter scared her, but the first two sounded doable. He’s kissed and licked the rest of her body. Though at first she hadn’t liked it, now she did. It meant the pain was over and he was making it better.
Natalie swallowed and stared into his turbulent eyes. The waters were rough. Would she survive the storm? She didn’t know. Either way, it was time to face it. “I’ll consent to your wishes, my king. And there’s one other thing…” Her heart raced.
“Tell me.”
“When it’s time…will you…” The words were hard to say, to admit, yet they were sincere. She wanted him to be pleased with her.
“Bug, will I what? Will I hurt you?”
For some unknown reason, that hadn’t crossed her mind. She shook her head. “No, Dexter. I trust you to do what’s best. I was wondering if you’d help me bathe?”
Chapter Thirteen
People grow through experience if they meet life honestly and courageously. This is how character is built.
~ Eleanor Roosevelt
“Tilt your head back.”
Natalie did as Dexter said, supporting herself with her arms as warm, clear water flowed over her hair. Coconut permeated the air, surrounding them in the scent of sunshine as Dexter retrieved another pan of water from the sink.
She watched as he stood, turning his back toward her.
With his shirt off to keep it from getting wet, she watched the only part of his body she’d seen: his wide chest, thick muscular arms, and toned torso. She’d been nude ever since she arrived, and yet she’d never seen more of him. The disparity suddenly filled her thoughts.
She’d never seen any man naked. She’d seen pictures, but never of an erection. She’d felt his against her, through his jeans. Natalie knew how hard he could become when he rubbed himself over her, but through his clothes, she couldn’t gauge anything else.
It had been over two weeks since she’d asked him to let her come. By the time it happened, she’d done more than ask. Her body and words begged for relief.
At first, he’d used his mouth. She would say it was his tongue, but as the memories tightened her core, she knew it was more. With her positioned over his face, he described his view. If he’d meant to embarrass her, it hadn’t worked. Instead, his words turned her on, primed and ready for what would come next.
But she wasn’t ready.
What Dexter did with his mouth lifted her higher than anything she’d ever done to herself. Sucking and nipping, he’d worked her into a frenzy until she was no longer conscious of her actions. Holding the headboard, she writhed as her hips rocked and breasts heaved. The tension within her built until she was sure something within her would break. She’d never been wound so tightly. Just as she thought it would happen—that her orgasm was imminent—Dexter told her to stop, that they were done.
Stop? She could barely comprehend his command.
She didn’t want to stop. Her body begged to disobey. She’d willingly take his punishment, if she could just have more of what his mouth could provide. The scene came back.
With her knees on either side of his face, she stared down into his eyes. His lips glistened with her essence as her pussy sat inches from his chin.
“You heard me. Don’t make me repeat it.”
If he repeated himself, she would be punished. But she wasn’t thinking straight. “Please, Dexter. I-I’m so close.”
His shiny lips smiled. “I know. I think you can wait a little longer.”
Her entire body shook with need. “I can’t.”
His large hands splayed over her hips as he lifted her off him and onto the bed.
“Did I…?” She didn’t know how this worked. He’d been the one to direct her position. Maybe she was supposed to have done something else. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, bug.” He kissed her cheek, leaving her own scent on her skin. “You’re perfect.”
“Then what happened?”
“It’s time for your bath.”
Her bath? Now?
Submerged in the sweet scent of lilacs, he offered her the relief she’d wanted. The price was her speech. She needed to tell him how it felt to ride his mouth, how his tongue, lips, and teeth had felt on her core. And how it made her feel when it ended without resolution.
Natalie’s description was simplistic and honest. It felt good and when he stopped, she was heartbroken.
“And now, do you still want to come?”
“Yes,” she answered too quickly. She didn’t wait for him to tell her the price; she knew she’d pay whatever he wanted. “I’ll do anything.”
His grin widened. “Anything is a big promise.”
Her breasts heaved in the warm water. It was the first sweet-smelling bath she’d had in a month. The water was even warmer as the silky salts coated her skin. “Anything,” she repeated.
Dexter took her hand and helped her stand. In the clawfoot tub, she was nearly his height, but not quite. Doing as he led, she stepped to the floor and stood with her hands on the side of the tub with her back toward him. Water slid from her skin, pooling near her feet.
Even the cool air didn’t dampen the heat of his touch as his fingers roamed her body, tweaking her nipples and moving down to her need.
Natalie shifted as the pressure within her rekindled, stronger than before.
“Talk to me,” he commanded.
“Please, Dexter, touch me.”
His lips found her neck. “Don’t let go of the tub.”
She nodded. Words had become difficult to form. His kisses continued stoking the flames of the fire inside her. Through his jeans, his erection pressed against her behind. Over and over his lips roamed. No longer foreign, they left a trail of hot coals as she craved more of his touch.
When his nips became bites, she screamed out, “Please…”
“Who do you belong to, Nat?”
He’d said her name. It was almost too much.
“You,” she panted. “I’m all yours.”
“Who’s your king?”
“You, Dexter.”
“Who do you kneel for?”
“Only you.”
Her legs shook as his fingers found her folds. She gasped as one, and then two digits slid inside her. Just as she had with his mouth, she rode his hand, bouncing on the balls of her feet to the rhythm he established. He stoked the fire he’d started, fanning the flames hotter than before. It was as he found her clit that his deep voice confirmed her answer.
“Mine, you�
��re my Natalie.”
The world spun as she cried out. Fireworks detonated as relief exploded through her system. The pleasure was so intense that it teetered on pain. Her fingers blanched as she rode out the orgasm, her skin covered in perspiration as she came harder than she ever had. Her swollen clit ached as her insides spasmed. Her legs quivered and face fell forward. And then his hands were gone. The sound of his zipper brought her back to reality.
Her breath caught in her chest. Now that she’d come, the idea of him being inside her was terrifying. Yet she’d promised anything.
“Dexter?”
Her hands trembled on the edge of the tub.
“Don’t turn around.”
She closed her eyes. He’d given her what she wanted; now it was time to pay.
As she braced herself for his cock, the bathroom filled with Dexter’s moans. His breathing hastened. Yet he wasn’t inside her.
Natalie longed to turn around, to see what she only heard. Her mind filled with the erotic image of him pumping his erection. She was certain that was what she heard, and then a deep roar vibrated off the walls as warm liquid splashed over her ass and back. It continued as the warmth dripped down her legs.
Nearly two months ago, she’d tensed at his touch. Now his cum coated her skin and all she could do was imagine what it would be like to have seen his hard cock. And then the zipper signaled the end of his pleasure.
“Give me your hand.”
He hadn’t told her to turn around, so she didn’t. She lifted her right hand as he directed her back into the tub.
“One more time,” Dexter said, telling Natalie to lean her head back as he again poured warm water. The memories of that day made her nipples bead as she concentrated on the muscles in his arms, the way they flexed as he rinsed the conditioner from her hair.
Usually, she had her hair trimmed every six weeks. It was overdue, but Dexter liked the way it flowed over her shoulders. Sometimes he’d even braid it. The first time he’d done it, she found the attention intimate. Now when he did it, as with the placing of only one chair, the action frightened and shockingly excited her. It signaled the beginning of a particularly taxing Dexter-time, one that would leave her skin moist with perspiration and possibly bruised.