"You need me to tell you what to do, don't you Zoey?"
She sat still as he let go of her top, the elastic snapping back against her skin, and said nothing. I got the distinct impression his authoritative tones were turning her on in a different way than I was able to achieve. It made me feel helpless.
Brandon leaned forward and smelled her, his head just a few inches to the side of hers. He seized her arm, pulled her toward him, then his hand was gripping her hair and the back of her neck rather brutally instead.
"I think you're just teasing me 'cause last time I was so soft on you," he said with a menacing sneer.
He kissed her, holding her by the neck, tearing at her top to keep it from slipping down over her breasts.
In the darkness of my room, I felt my hardened cock twitch at the sight of her hard nipple. The blush in Zoey's cheeks seemed stronger now, and she was gazing up at him with something like wonderment.
"You know you can't do anything without me, Zoey," he said, his fingers closing around her throat, squeezing her, intimidating her with his power. "You'll be a mess without me."
She said something softly, but I couldn't hear what it was. Brandon crouched down in front of her, pulling her toward him by the neck, as though she were nothing but a rag doll, and he was whispering something in her ear that I could not decipher.
She was smiling, enjoying his roughness.
I almost let out a groan of pure disappointment, before I realized they might hear.
Brandon seemed to be throttling her, and yet she was smiling, those nipples so erect on her exquisite breasts. I was being torn apart by conflicted feelings, wanting desperately to go in there and defend her, yet knowing she'd told me to keep out.
She said: "Yes." I wasn't sure to what she was responding, but it did not make me happy.
Presumably responding to an order from Brandon, Zoey stood up in front of the sofa, standing straight like she was in a military parade, facing me directly. Brandon reached forward and pulled her top up now, over her head, before removing her skirt as well.
Oh, she was so stunning, hands clasped obediently behind her back, chest pushed up, butt pushed back, pussy exposed for me to see.
"You see?" Brandon said, pacing around her like an army sergeant major inspecting the troops. "You need this, don't you?"
She nodded, still giving him that half-smile that infuriated yet also excited me.
"I didn't hear you," he slapped her face, then slapped her right breast. It wasn't hard, but the sound of the impact on her skin shocked me.
I sat up, now worried he was actually going to hurt her. I was deathly afraid of what I'd have to do if he did hurt her - Brandon was no small man. He'd clearly been an athlete in college, and he'd kept up the regimen since then.
Zoey was smiling, partly with quiet rebellion against this dominant man, partly through sexual arousal.
He slapped her again on the left breast, and she let out a little moan, said: "Yes, sir."
"Yes sir, what?" Another slap, another moan.
"Yes sir, I need you to control me."
Brandon walked behind her, and put his hands around her neck again, as if to strangle her. He put his face to the side of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair, and said: "That's right, little girl."
Then he said quietly, though loud enough for me to hear: "You don't have any need for any of your feminist bullshit, and you don't have any need for that dickhead Aiden Jones."
I caught my breath. Zoey didn't say anything.
He gave her another semi-playful swat on the breast, then swept his hand all over her chest, down her stomach and over her pussy, making her moan in the process.
Now the big man pulled down his pants, still standing behind her, and said into her ear: "Touch it. Now."
He held her as she fumbled with her hands behind her back, blindly seeking out his cock just as his hand was reaching around to grab her pussy.
I sat horrified, wondering why she was allowing this. Was she accepting all this simply to win the contract the next day? Why did she want me to see this? It felt so disruptive and undermining of my view of her as a strong force in my life - worse than it had been in Ms Jenkinson's presence.
Yet my cock was so thick between my thighs as I watched, kneeling there by my bed wearing only a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. How thrilling it was to see her so bare, completely exposed to someone else, challenging the boundaries of control.
Now he stood by her side, and hissed: "On your knees."
She turned to him, did exactly what he said, lowering herself to the ground so he could feed that hard cock of his into her mouth. So compliant as she took him between her pretty lips, rocking her head back and forth, looking up at him with compliant eyes.
He held her hair tight in one hand, and led the movement of her mouth on his hardness. Fucking her head. Again, she was letting him do whatever he wanted.
Periodically, he'd remove his cock from her mouth and smack her around the face with it a few times before pushing back inside her lips. He was disrespectful of her, he did not appreciate her feminine power, he was wasting his entire experience. Although I'd never been abusive to any girl I'd been with, watching Brandon offered me a glimpse at how I'd frittered away ten years of experiences with women. What a waste.
Taking a deep, anxious breath, I stood up, fighting off the pins and needles in my feet, agonizing about whether I should just march in there, and push him away from her. She'd told me to keep out of there, though, whatever the circumstances.
I got the sense she was teaching me a lesson. Would I be simply failing her to go in there now? What if, in order to pass the test, I was actually supposed to go in there and defend her?
When I returned to my place, to peer through the door, I saw that Brandon had now shoved Zoey onto the couch, so she was lying face down along it, and her hands appeared to be bound behind her back, tied with a toweled bathrobe cord.
Now naked, he was standing behind her, slapping her rear, casting great pink splotches right across her buttocks.
She cried and moaned with every strike, burying her face in the sofa cushions to stifle herself, but again I couldn't tell if she was enjoying it or not. She certainly wasn't trying to struggle or get away.
They didn't seem like hard blows, but produced sharp cracks of flesh on flesh. Brandon nestled his cock between her cheeks in between spanking her, her pert behind becoming steadily more rosy with every strike.
"You see? You love it," he declared. "There's no way that creep next door can make you feel anything as good as me."
Then I saw him manhandling her hips, pulling her towards him, and his cock was pointing direct at her pussy. I watched, side on, as the big man pushed forward, sliding his bulging manhood inside my Zoey. I felt the air squeezed out of my lungs as I saw that thing sinking into her.
"Oh fuck," he said, "Oh fuck, babe, you feel that?"
I hated guys who called anyone 'babe', it was so stupid. I hated Brandon, he was stupid. But Zoey was letting him fuck her, letting him strike her behind as he continued fucking her, answering him in the affirmative as he asked her if she liked having his dick inside her as he slapped her.
He pulled out of her, and went over to the other side of the couch, and knelt down to feed his cock back into her mouth, glistening with her pussy juices, demanding to know if she liked his cock, if she liked sucking him all coated in her come.
I could see how wet her pussy was as he fucked her face again, and I suddenly felt quite inadequate. Did I make her that wet when she was with me?
Of course I did. I made her come - he didn't. Brandon needed me to be watching for Zoey to come.
I buried my face in my hands, turning away. Taking a deep breath, telling myself that she was only doing whatever needed to be done to make this guy happy for the contract's sake.
When I turned back, Brandon was pushing her roughly over to the arm of the sofa, shoving her over it, then forcefully plunging his cock back in
to her pussy, squeezing and slapping her butt cheeks as he pounded her, even reaching forward to slap her face and her breasts.
He was saying: "You're going to stop seeing him, aren't you, bitch?"
But she was saying: "Never, never, never." And I hoped against hope she was saying she was never going to stop seeing me.
He smacked her, said: "You'll never see him?"
And she said: "I'll never stop seeing him."
I was getting so wound up. Zoey's moans were more like cries now, and though my cock was hard in my undershorts, I was on my feet, feeling myself losing control as he hit her.
Storming into the room, shoving him off her.
Brandon was laughing.
He said: "God, took long enough for him to come for you, Zoey, are you sure you've chosen a good one?"
I was confused, standing there like a lemon.
Zoey looked at me, a touch angry, a touch pitying me. Perhaps even a touch pleased that I was there. "You shouldn't have come in, Aiden," she said. "I told you to stay out."
Brandon was still laughing, saying: "Time for some punishment for sissy boy."
Zoey said: "Come here."
I felt physically sick.
I ignored Zoey, throwing out the rules of my submission, and faced Brandon. I've no doubt I looked completely ridiculous, but I was a seething ball of rage. I growled: "If you hit her again, I will put you in the hospital."
That probably seemed quite rich, seeing how much bigger Brandon was than me. But rage and adrenalin can do funny things to the strength and power of even the most average of men.
It was probably not what I was supposed to do if our firm wanted to keep its part of this deal Brandon was supposedly concocting. To Hell with it.
He sneered at me. "You do as I say, loser."
"When did I agree to that?" I asked.
He said: "You do what she tells you. She does what I tell her."
I shook my head, my expression remaining as full of menace as I could muster.
"Cool it, Jones, will you?" Zoey said. I felt acid fill my stomach - something I'd not really felt before with my goddess.
Betrayal.
Brandon said: "If I want to discipline my woman, I will discipline my woman."
He threw a hand toward Zoey's face, and somehow the adrenalin flowing through my veins seemed to give me Spidey senses - my own hand shot out and I grabbed his wrist before he could land his blow on her cheek.
"She's not your woman."
He angrily pulled his arm out of my grip.
"You're only going to make it worse," he hissed at me. "If you keep me from disciplining her, I'll need to discipline her more the next time."
I looked at him - really stared at him. He seemed so hideously ugly to me. He was a vile creature - a bully, a pathetic creep who had to force his will on others. He abused the concept of domination and submission.
How had I allowed him to defile my goddess? I felt caught. There was no way I'd let him land another blow on Zoey. I knew the power he held over her - she may have loved him once, she might still have loved him then, but this was wrong.
Suddenly, I had a flash of inspiration.
I said: "She serves you, but I serve her. Any punishment you care to give her, I will accept instead."
I didn't know if he'd take the bait. He just had this look on his stupid steroid-enhanced face that said I-really-want-to-hit-someone-right-now. He had the kind of tension in his body that could only be defused by violent acts.
Zoey said: "Step away, Jones."
"No, no," Brandon said. "It's a logical solution. Come here, Jones."
I stepped up to him, braced myself as he reached his arm back, coiled to power at my face.
Brandon hit me, hard, closed-fist, in the jaw. Pain erupted through my face. Zoey screamed.
I stood my ground. Now it was my turn to sneer. I said: "That make you feel like a man, Brandon? Attacking the defenseless?"
Brandon growled, and held his fist up once again to threaten me. He said: "That mouth will get you in trouble, Jones."
I said: "Truth hurts, huh?"
He swung at me again. I flinched, and he caught my chin, but it still stung like hell.
I laughed. He hit me again - side of the head.
I said something like: "Pathetic." My mouth didn't quite work properly by then - my whole face was numb. I think I caught another blow from Brandon, maybe a few more.
And then Zoey was yelling at me to get out - like I was the one in the wrong.
I guess that was what did it - that acid feeling of betrayal welled up in my stomach again. I was thinking: how is she still standing by him? Can you not see what a pathetic loser he is?
I was close to blacking out - I could see stars swirling in my vision.
Zoey yelled my name, and that was enough for me.
I walked out of the room, closed the adjoining door, and once in my own room I dressed, threw my belongings in my suitcase, and left the hotel. I was numb, I was possibly concussed, but it was the acid in my belly that hurt the most.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ms Jenkinson agreed to see me first thing in the morning.
I’d spent a harrowing night driving back home. The shock soon wore off from my uncontested beating, requiring an unplanned pause at a rest stop for Tylenol. Worse than the physical discomfort was the emotional pain from walking out on Zoey.
My journey through the night had actually started off with me feeling some sense of pride, in that I had made a stand against the vile Brandon and had shown quite clearly what a cruel and heartless bastard her old flame was.
Yet as I got closer and closer to Baltimore, my view of the situation changed. I felt more and more that I’d done the wrong thing. First I’d stepped in to Zoey’s room without permission, then I’d attempted to force her choice between Brandon and I, and then I’d fled the scene like some kind of pathetic coward. If Brandon was a dangerous lunatic, then it was hardly heroic to abandon her to him.
I’d been tested, and had failed miserably. But how could I possibly turn round and go back to her, tail between my legs? The pride I'd felt at the beginning of my journey was too wounded by the end of it for me to make a quick return.
At home, I arrived so late that Robin was thankfully already asleep, saving my blushes. Even in darkness, the apartment reminded me of my time with Zoey, my heart feeling crushed at the memories of bringing her back here. I got to bed feeling like a huge piece of me had been torn away.
She’d been cruel in how she’d treated me, but as I lay unable to sleep, I considered that the sense of fulfillment I felt with her might just be the same as she had once felt with Brandon. If she had loved him once, and still loved him, that was always going to be a tough choice to make.
I’d never really experienced love before Zoey – but she had. I couldn’t see things her way, because I had never had to make a choice like that.
Feeling that I understood her mindset was no compensation for the anguish I felt. Being with her had been like flying up to the sun – I’d been scorched, I’d fallen to the earth, but what an experience it had been. Where would I ever find another like her?
By the time I was able to sink into a brief and shallow slumber, I had decided that my best option was to get away from Zoey. There was no way I’d be able to see her every day without getting my heart completely shredded. It was a hard decision to make – especially considering the lengths we’d gone to show our CEO that we could work together perfectly well while conducting a full romantic relationship.
There was no other option – I had to get out. I sent an email to Ms Jenkinson, apologizing profusely, accepting the blame completely for what had happened. I explained my run-in with Brandon without going into too much detail. I only made it clear that Zoey had appeared to make a choice, and despite showing her the kind of Neanderthal he was, I could not remain working with her in the wake of her decision.
I was expecting to take a sick day, perhaps get some k
ind of reply from Ms Jenkinson later that day, even if it was referring me to our human resources department to submit my resignation. Yet her reply came back within minutes of sending my email that night.
Meet me in my office, first thing.
*
It was strange going into the company building again - I felt different, somehow. I'd been coming through this revolving door virtually every working day over the past eight or nine years, and it had become such a regular part of my life, I couldn't quite believe this would be the last time.
Winston the security guard flagged me through the turnstile as usual, giving me that knowing look of warm recognition that had always suggested to me that he knew all the reasons for me being there at that hour, although there was no way he could.
Then I was in the elevator, my finger hovering over the usual button for the third floor and our sales department, moving up to the button bearing the number eight.
On the way up, I felt thankful that other than Winston, the building seemed deserted. I would be able to discuss my situation with our chief executive, then gather my belongings and vacate the premises without having to run into colleagues requiring detailed explanations.
I felt a little numb to the pain of losing Zoey, perhaps because my nerves were jangling so much ahead of my meeting with the CEO. I tried to calm myself with the attitude that things couldn't get much worse. I was about to lose my job, having already lost the only woman I'd ever loved. At least I had my health.
I knocked, and heard the familiar order: "Come."
My heart was in my mouth as I opened the door and slipped inside to find the radiant Ms Jenkinson once again sitting regally in her office chair, looking impeccable in a sharp suit despite the early hour. She must have arrived at the office well before me - did she sleep here in some secret apartment?
"Aiden Jones," she said as I approached her. "What are we going to do with you?"
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