by Tiana Laveen
“I’m not a child. You don’t need to talk to me like one, and I don’t appreciate it. I get that you have a dominant personality, and that is your shtick, but you—”
“Nobody said you were a fuckin’ kid. Secondly, I don’t have a shtick. This is exactly who the hell I am, take it or leave it. This isn’t an act. I am the same Nixon Rossellini from sun up to sun down. The beauty of this, Yasmine, is that everything you learn from me over the next two months, you can apply to other parts of your life. This is bigger than your lack of orgasms. Listening, reading between lines, is essential.” He tapped the side of his head. “When someone says, ‘I’m hungry,’ and they’re lookin’ at a piece of cake on your kitchen counter that’s behind you, what would happen if you refused them? What would happen if you said, ‘I have some soup for you’? They’d probably reject it because that was not what they wanted, and deep down, you knew it. That means the motherfucker either lied – they aren’t really hungry or soup would suffice… hunger is used loosely, right?
“Or, they just want that fucking cake, Yasmine, and nothing else will do. If they tell you what they want, and you immediately grab the cake, that means you’re listening to the motherfucker and seeing him with your third eye! He never said he wanted cake; he said he was hungry and if you think what I’m saying is really about cake, then you’re crazy or have horrible comprehension skills! True hunger is not what is going on. It’s a craving, Yas. They desire something that you have, and only what you have will satiate them! It makes you special! Same as physical and sexual attraction! Same as what is going on right now. You are here because you want to be here. Because you know I have something you haven’t had before you met me – so are you going to allow me to do what I do best, teach women like you how to shut up and cum, or do you know every damned thing and wish to return to how things used to be since you have all the damn answers?!”
Her chest rose and fell hard. He could see he was breaking her down, getting her drunk on fear and intrigue. He imagined a part of her wanted to flee from this place, while another part wanted to curse him out.
“Look at me. Look right at me. What do you see?” he asked calmly.
She visibly swallowed then took a deep breath.
“A man with a robe on, but beneath it, he’s naked.”
“Okay. Good. And what does naked mean to you?” He slowly removed the robe the rest of the way, not missing how her eyes grew slightly larger as he did, casting the garment at his feet. The glow of the fire illuminated her features. She looked… perfect.
“It’s how we come into the world.”
He nodded.
“Good. What else?” He brought the cigar to his lips and leaned back.
“Vulnerability.”
He nodded and blew out smoke rings.
“You’re doing great. All right, two things real quick before we go any further.” He smashed the cigar into an ashtray on the coffee table. “I got your latest test results back, thank you.” She nodded. “I texted you mine. We’re both free and clear to do whatever we wish tonight without fear of contracting something or a pregnancy.” She nodded once more. “One more thing regarding that: please don’t stop taking your birth control pills without notifying me. If you miss a pill, let me know as soon as possible.”
“I will.”
“Cool. Did you bring your journal like I asked you to?”
“Yes, but you told me at the restaurant that you wouldn’t need to see it.”
“I don’t. But you do. Take it out of your purse, I’m assuming that’s where it is, and open it.” She hesitated for a spell, then followed his instructions. He could see from a distance she had a few sentences written down in it, but he didn’t try to make them out.
“All I need to know is, when you read whatever you wrote, was it a thought of hope, or fear?”
She glanced down at the book, ran her thumb along her lip, and shook her head.
“…I suppose if I have to choose between the two, fear.”
He could almost taste her anxiety. Framing his mouth with his thumb and forefinger, he ran them down his face as he contemplated her answer.
“Yasmine, why did you come over here?”
“You called me, said you wanted to see me. I debated on ghosting you again, just like I said earlier, but you intrigue me. Not only that, our conversation at lunch was profound. Everything in me tells me I shouldn’t be over here, even though you’re right. I’m here because I want to be.”
“Why shouldn’t you be here?”
“Because I have a bad history of falling for men that are bad for me.” He clasped his hands, listening. “You practically admitted that you didn’t want to commit to anyone. You told me I was different, but that’s what all men say when they want someone they know they can’t have. Men like you lie. Become who you think we as women want you to be just to get what you want, and some men are turned on by being rejected. You then give chase. As soon as we stop running, show mutual interest, you no longer find us fascinating. Then it’s all over, and you don’t care what you’ve done, as long as you’ve had your fun. Isn’t that you, Nix? Isn’t that who you are?”
“Sometimes.” They glared at one another. “But, here’s the thing. I can grow. You can grow. People can transform with the right motivation. I’m like a plant. So are you. I need to be watered. I need sun. Even a Venus’ Fly Trap such as me can be particular about who I turn into a meal. Not everyone is on the menu.”
“So that is very nice and all, lovely and philosophical, packaged beautifully in glossy wrappings of bullshit, but the truth, the cake sitting on the counter behind me if you will, is that you wanted me because it looked as if you couldn’t have me?” She arched a brow. “Is that what you’re saying? I didn’t call you for two months and that pissed you off. I’m the fucking cake on the counter.”
“Yes.”
“That’s real.” She gave a loud, distressed sigh as she rubbed her hand along her knee, then cast her sights towards the fire. “You’re an asshole. But again, thank you for being honest.”
“But that wasn’t all.” She looked in his direction with a slight tilt of her head. “I really fuckin’ like you, Yasmine. I’m serious. The night I met you at The Cage, yeah, I was attracted to you, enjoyed my time with you. I was sure you’d call. When you didn’t,” he paused, “I felt some kind of way about it. Not just because you didn’t do what I wanted you to do, but because I believed that, uh, we had something… I let it go, actually, then, one morning I read something, and I had a conversation with a friend of mine who was trying to double date and hook me up, and it made me think about women – and how I could have something more and better than I’d had before. You and I could both have something we only received from one another, so this wasn’t a one way street. You’re giving to me, just as I am giving to you. That day, it clicked for me. I believe I had an awakening of sorts. It’s like everything lined up perfectly. It helped encourage me to do what I had wanted to do all along, and that is make a move. I had never forgotten you since that night, Yasmine. Not more than a day or two would go by without you entering my thoughts.”
It was obvious she was fighting a smile, and that made her all the more beautiful in his eyes.
“Then, when I started to read up on you, your accomplishments, stuff like that, I saw how much we had in common. I figured, if I was going to pursue someone, it should be a person who understands me from a vocational standpoint, too. Someone with just as much to lose. That woman would understand the meaning of hard work and allow me to do what I was born to do. Lead. She would not take that as a reduction, but as what it actually is. An upgrade. Now, back to your journal.” He pointed towards it, the book now lying beside her hip on the couch.
“An upgrade? I’m not so certain of that.”
“Fear is your fuel. Keep that in mind, always.” He held a finger up. “What I want to do tonight, baby, is open you up.” She reached for her wine and took a sip, then another, as if she needed it wit
h every fiber of her being. “Set the glass down.” She took one more quick sip then set it on the coffee table. “Before I get into the gist of it, I need to give you a safe word.”
“Safe word?” Her brow arched and she burst out laughing, but she was clearly unamused. “No. I’m not into shit like that, Raze. I mean, Nixon.”
“Shit like what, Yasmine?” He intertwined his fingers and leaned forward.
“The whole sadomasochist scene. To each his own, but I’m not into that.”
He smirked and slowly got to his feet. Rounding the coffee table, he stood before her, looking down at her. He blew smoke in her face, forcing her to cough and wave it away.
“Shit! You son of a bitch!” She hacked hard. “What are you doing?!” He blew out more, and she fell back onto the couch in a fit of coughs. “You fucker! I can barely breathe now!”
“This is why you need a safe word,” he stated calmly as he watched her squirm about like an ant under a microscope. Free Nationals crooned ‘Beauty and Essex,’ filling the air with sound. “See, your mind is limited. Closed off, Yasmine. That’s not the only reason for a safe word. It’s not because I’d necessarily be hanging you upside down from the ceiling light and fucking you in the mouth as I pour candle wax on your back and jam a carrot up your ass. You’ve got these strange ideas in your head that I’m going to have to break down and strip you of. The safe word is so you can tell me what you can and cannot take. Your breaking point. Your breaking point. It’s for your own safety and protection.”
“Safety and protection? Wow. I may not trust you.” she sneered, clearly still annoyed about the smoke, her eyes glossy.
“That’s fair. You have to earn my trust first.” She looked up at him with venom in her eyes. “So tonight, you won’t need to use it, but for future sessions, the safe word is, ‘Banana.’ She sat back up, shaking her head. He chuckled lightly, aware she knew why. “I’m going to break you.” He grabbed her chin in a vise grip, made her look up at him and squeezed. A look of panic, dread, and the shit fear was born from rested in her eyes. “I’m going to break you down so damn good and so fucking far that Hell will look like Heaven…”
CHAPTER SEVEN
We’re Animals.
He pulled her up onto her feet, jammed his hand between her thighs, and pushed her legs apart. Unzipping her jeans, he yanked it down and her body swayed against him. A faint moan escaped her lips when he forced his hand inside her panties, feeling her soft pubic hair, then wetness and heat. She shuddered against his touch when he traced her fat pussy lips with the tips of his fingers. The lush, sticky nectar chased his lust and coerced it to explode tenfold.
“Break me… you wanna break me…” Her eyes rolled and she let her head fall back. Caressing her pussy with deft fingers, he set to work on her arousal with delicate ministrations to her precious bud.
“I have to break you. You’ve got a bunch of old programming from your parents, teachers, old boyfriends, old environments and situations… I have to erase all of that so I have a clean slate to work with.”
“But who’s going to fix you? Aren’t you in need of reprogramming, too?”
He pulled his hand out of her underwear and sucked on his fingers. “Stand up straight. You’re slouching.”
She did as he asked, and right away he invaded her space as she grinned smugly, pushing into her, threatening to make her fall back down on the couch. He knew she’d continue to fight him until he reminded her who was in charge. Actions spoke louder than words.
“You don’t ask me any fucking questions unless I tell you that you can, do you understand me?” He held up his finger, only a centimeter or two away from her face. She sneered in response, then laughed and turned to face the fireplace as if the flames had called her by name.
“Ahhh!” she screamed when he caught her neck in a firm grip.
“Do you fuckin’ understand me?!”
“Yes!”
He released her and shoved her back down onto the couch where she bounced, eyes wild like those of a feral city cat.
And yet, he was certain she was all the wetter for it.
“I’m not playin’ around with you, Yasmine. We’re in session. I’m in control now.” He got in her face, looking at her as if she were shit on the bottom of his shoe. “Take off your fucking clothes, damn it. And fast. All of them.” He sauntered leisurely to the loveseat and sat down with his legs wide open, exposing himself. His dick throbbed at the sight of her wrestling with her shirt, and probably her emotions, too. The fire crackled and danced, flirting with her gorgeous skin as she slowly removed her blouse, then her pants. Reaching for his dick, he began to stroke it from the base to the sensitive tip, keeping a good rhythm. Raveena’s ‘Salt Water’ started to play, setting the mood. All along, he could see she had something on her mind. He swallowed and smirked, shaking his head. Here she goes…
“I have just one teeny, weeny question?” She put up her fingers as if to say, ‘just a little bit’.
I knew it… This woman is incredible.
“Damn! What the fuck is it now?” He didn’t want her to know that he found her a bit amusing, her resilience titillating and annoying at the same time.
“How do you seem to know a lot of the things I like? For instance, the restaurant where you took me for lunch, where we talked for thirty minutes about a hairy Greek god who loves music and pussy, then walked off leaving me there? Or the music you keep playing? I know I filled out that survey for The Cage, but some of this stuff was never mentioned. Even the wine, for goodness sake? I’ve never had this type of wine before, or at least I don’t think so, and it matches my tastes perfectly. It’s delicious, exactly what I enjoy.” She unhooked her red satin bra. It dropped to the floor, releasing two lovely globes of tawny flesh with dark areolas and hard nipples.
“I told you… I can read people. Especially women. Keep going. The panties. Off.” He pressed his back against the couch and kept masturbating, his dick now hard as a rock. She’d gotten under his skin, in a good way. He enjoyed every second of roughing her up. And he’d enjoy every second of tearing her down. She shimmied out of a pair of red panties, stepping out of them when they pooled around her ankles. “Stand there and just watch me.”
She nodded.
“What do you see?”
“You.”
“Me doing what?”
“Jerking off.”
“No, no, no. You have to dig deeper, look beyond that. Listen to the question carefully. That’s an old tape…” He swallowed as he climbed the ladder of stimulation, his eyes resting on her magnificent body. She tilted her head to the side, her expression unsure. “Yasmine.” He whistled. “Now come here.” He curled his finger and beckoned her over.
She rounded the coffee table and stood before him, staring at his cock, her pupils dilated as if she were in a trance. “Don’t look at my damn dick. Look at me! In the eyes.” She quickly snapped out of it and gazed into his eyes. “What do you see?” He panted, paused, then continued… pacing himself.
“I see that you’re sexually excited.”
“And what’s telling you that?”
“Your eyes…”
He smiled.
“Exactly… my eyes, the way I’m breathing. Look at me from the waist up to get important clues. Sex is layered. It requires the mental and the physical. What’s going on below the waist is the last component. What does my skin look like? How do I sound?”
“It’s tan… a little glossy. You’re sweating a little… and breathing harder.”
He began to move on the love seat, stroking his dick in a sensual rhythm. He could see it was hard for her to resist looking at his nature. She was now fighting it.
“Get on your damn knees and sit at my feet.”
She eagerly crouched before him, as if he were an altar. He leaned forward and grabbed the back of her head, his fingers becoming entangled in a thick black mass of hair, and forced her down onto his cock until she gagged. Nails dug into his hips
and dragged as she held on, tearing at his flesh. After five good, rough pumps, he abruptly pulled her off him. Her mouth hung open, need and desire in her eyes.
“I didn’t want to stop!” She sounded as if she’d been violated by his abrupt retreat.
He began stroking himself once more… teasing her…
“You taste me now on your tongue, don’t you? My precum. Swallow it.” He watched as her throat constricted. “Stand up.” She got back to her feet. “What scares you right now?” he asked, his voice cracking as he fought his desire to pull her to him for more, so much more…
“That this is who you are… that you’re really like this.”
“That’s not what scares you the most. You knew that this is who I really am since that first night at The Cage. You said so yourself when I called you on the phone the first time afterward.”
She swallowed and averted her gaze for a brief moment.
“That… I like the way you are… I like this. I love this! It’s… shameful… but I crave it so badly.” She blinked several times, clearly overcome as the realization set in.
“Another old ass, defunct, stupid tape.” He sucked his teeth. “You think what I’m doing to you is wrong? You hate that it arouses you? To be turned on by the way I’m looking at you… the way I’m talking to you… treating you?! I’m not wounding you; I’m worshiping you…” He jerked his cock hard, pulling and yanking the rigid flesh, his knee now knocking into her leg.
“Your desires are normal. A man who likes you, touching himself because you’re near, isn’t strange. It’s perfect. Complete adoration. I’m in awe of you… It’s proving to you that you can make me cum just by being here next to me. Just by… standing there… Just… by the scent of you…” He panted hard and loud as his back bucked and his eyes closed tight. Still, he could feel her intense gaze on him. “I can smell your perfume, your arousal even, baby… I can smell that you’re wet… so fucking wet… and you, you…” He pressed his eyes closed tighter, fucking the air as he bucked up and down, juddered hard, then grabbed her hand with his free hand, squeezing it. “You want me inside you, don’t you?!”