CHAPTER TWELVE
My walk of shame was wrought with emotion. What I had experienced with Damien in the pool was unlike anything I had felt from him before. It was like he was having a hard time keeping his calm demeanor, as if the light of his humanity was finally shining through.
By the time we reached the front door, Damien the teacher had returned. He handed me another questionnaire, an entire packet with several pages stapled together, and then sent me on my way, telling me that if I decided to take him up on his BDSM lessons, he'd want it returned to him by the following weekend. Unlike with the first questionnaire he gave me, I didn't have to wait in wonder of the contents of this one until I got home. As soon as I stepped into my car, I looked over the paperwork. Some of the questions I thought should have been on the original questionnaire, though most of them, not surprisingly, pertained to BDSM.
Feeling awkward for sitting in front of Damien's house for so long, I set the questionnaire aside and put my car in drive, heading home. When I got there, I did a bit of homework and then thought about working on the questionnaire for a while. It would be wasted time if I decided BDSM wasn't for me though, so I ended up leaving it for another time. For now, I needed to figure out if lessons in BDSM were something I really wanted. Damien had indicated it would be a big commitment, but the perk was that I would become closer to him.
Part of me wished he had never extended the offer. I had things pretty much figured out inside my head. The plan had been to string Chase along until I got my fill of Damien, then end my lessons with Damien and become a committed girlfriend to Chase. If Damien and I took things to this next level, I wasn't sure if I would be able to follow through with that plan. It sounded like training to be a submissive was going to make me committed to Damien, in a sense. Then again, he had talked about passing me off to someone else once the training was complete. I wasn't sure how much I liked that either, though it did provide me with a convenient way out. Maybe I could just stick around until my training was over, however long that would take.
I licked my lips, thinking of all the kink play Damien had enticed me with. He had said we could do it even if I didn't want to learn about BDSM. That was a plus. Still, I craved to know more about him, craved to be closer to him.
In truth, I hadn't made up my mind when I arrived at his doorstep for my lessons the following day. I was torn between doing the logical thing or the greedy thing. To be logical, I would steer the same course as I had been, deny the offer of BDSM lessons and enjoy the pleasures of Damien's body while they lasted. The greedy path would have me take him up on the offer, allow myself to get closer to him, and probably have my heart broken in the process. Somehow, either choice felt like it would lead to a losing situation.
After a causal greeting, Damien asked if I had made up my mind. His face was deadpan as normal, as if he didn't care either way, but I could sense that wasn't the truth. Or, at least, part of me hoped that wasn't the truth. I wanted him to want me desperately.
“Can I have a bit more time to decide?” I asked, scrunching my face in fear he'd be upset.
“Well, at least I'm glad you're not taking the decision lightly,” he said, but I could sense disappointment in his voice.
“Yeah. It seems pretty intense.”
“It can be.”
“So, what's on the agenda today?” I asked.
Usually, when I came inside, he led me straight to the classroom. Today, he seemed to want to linger in the doorway.
“Dinner,” he replied finally.
“Dinner?”
“Yes, dinner. I thought we could make dinner together.”
“Are you teaching a cooking class now too?” I teased.
“If you don't know how to cook, then I suppose you could think of it that way.” He smirked, leading me to the kitchen.
As was the rest of Damien's house, his kitchen was absolutely gorgeous, with marble counter tops, stainless steel appliances, a large island in the middle with a sink, and a rack of expensive pots and pans hanging above it. To be honest, I thought that cooking had been a clever euphemism for something kinky until I saw him start pulling vegetables out of the refrigerator. He set me up with a cutting board, a knife, and bags full of bell peppers, red onions, and broccoli.
“Hope you like stir fry,” he said before disappearing around the corner.
I scowled. For being such a smart guy, he seemed to have no idea what the word together meant. With a sigh, I got to work chopping an onion.
While I worked, I stared forward blankly, analyzing Damien's strange behavior. Had he seriously planned for dinner to be part of tonight's lesson? Maybe he was too busy during the week to come up with a full weekends worth of lessons. That didn't make sense though. For heaven's sake, he only saw me for about two hours on the weekend. It couldn't possibly be that difficult to come up with a curriculum. Besides, if Damien was nothing else, he was meticulous. I highly doubted he would have forgotten to plan something for us to do. He was a creative guy. The well couldn't possibly be running dry already.
“Ouch,” I gasped, dropping the knife and looking down at my finger. At first, I thought I had just nicked myself, but then I saw the deep gash, and my head went all fuzzy.
Blood dripped from the wound in rapid succession, painting the cutting board red. Desperately, I clutched at the sides of the counter top to keep myself from falling, but everything around me was going white.
Damien appeared at my side. He took one look at my finger and rushed to grab a towel to wrap around my hand.
“Come on,” he said, helping me to my feet. “We need to get you to the minor emergency clinic.”
I leaned against him as he walked me out to his Corvette, trying not to concentrate on the injury. By the way that my blood was soaking through the towel, you would have thought I hit an artery. It felt and looked far worse than a minor emergency.
Thankfully, the clinic was just down the road. Even if I had lost an entire finger, we got there in such a short time that they probably could have sewn it back on.
Damien stayed by my side, handling most of the interactions. When the girl at the front desk saw the blood-soaked towel, she brought us back immediately. Now that the initial shock of slicing my finger had worn off, I was becoming increasingly afraid at the thought of having stitches. I had never gotten them before, and feared it would hurt worse than the cut itself.
“You'll be fine,” Damien tried to assure me.
“Maybe they can use those liquid stitches,” I said, hopeful.
“I doubt it. You cut yourself pretty badly.”
A strange thought came to me. “Aren't you worried about people seeing us together?”
“No. Your health is far more important to me than what anyone might think.”
“But what about your job?”
“Don't worry about it. It's not important right now. The only thing that's important is making sure you're taken care of.”
My cheeks might have flushed, but it felt like I had lost too much blood for that to happen. Did he really mean what he said?
Before I had time to ponder it any longer, a nurse walked in to take my vitals. When her eyes landed on Damien, she blushed, and the slightest twinge of jealousy ran through me. Was I really so possessive over him that I didn't want other women looking at him? He wasn't even mine. Besides, he was incredibly attractive. It was hard not to want to look at him.
After I was presumed very much alive, though badly injured, the nurse left, and the doctor came in shortly afterward to stitch up my finger. I felt like I might faint when I saw the needle she planned to stick in my wound to numb the pain. Tears welled up in my eyes, and it took almost everything in me not to jerk away.
“I'm scared,” I told her, holding back sobs as if I was a small child.
“It will only hurt for a little while,” she said.
When she first approached my hand with the needle, I jerked away.
“You're going to have to stay still,” she told me.
Damien stood and came to my side, taking up my other hand in his. “Look at me, okay. Everything is going to be alright.”
I looked at him and nodded, trying to concentrate on the feeling of his large hand engulfing mine. His fingers were so warm . . . and so were his eyes. Gazing into them, I felt completely lost, and the rest of the world melted around me.
“Stay with me and hold my hand while they do the stitches,” I said.
“I'm not going anywhere.” He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and I swooned. I wanted to kiss him, and for him to hold me, and for us to just be together. This wasn't the time or place for any of that though, so I endured my tortured doctoring and swallowed my feelings until it was all over.
Damien picked up what my insurance wouldn't cover and then took me to the grocery store to fill my prescription for pain medication, which he also paid for. While we waited for the prescription to be filled, we went through drive-thru to get something to eat.
“Let me pay for this,” I offered.
“I got it. Don't worry about it,” he insisted.
I slumped in my seat, feeling absolutely useless. Not only had I ruined his dinner plans, but I had also cost him a fortune. If he never wanted to see me again after this, I would understand.
After eating, we picked up my prescription and headed back to his place. As soon as we got inside, I went into the kitchen and popped a pain pill. The sight of my blood dried up on the cutting board made me nauseous, and I found myself retching into the garbage can.
“Are you alright?” Damien asked, coming to my aid. He held back my hair while I finished throwing up. It didn't seem like the night could possibly get any worse.
Once I was done making an ass of myself . . . again, Damien led me into the classroom to lay down until my nausea passed. He put a wastebasket next to the bed and then went back to the kitchen to clean everything up. I felt absolutely horrible, though apparently the pain medication had stayed down, because I was also starting to feel a bit loopy.
I clung to the pillow and cried silently until Damien returned. Everything was overwhelming me at once. Between hurting my finger, and these strange emotions racing through me, and embarrassing myself, and the medicine, I felt like a complete wreck.
“I'm sorry,” I sobbed. “I didn't mean to ruin your night.”
“Shhh. You didn't ruin my night. Don't even worry about it.” He pulled one of the chairs up next to the bed and sat in it to brush my hair away from my face. Then he took off his shoes and climbed into bed beside me, wrapping his arm around me.
My crying almost instantly stopped, and I wondered if he could hear my heart thudding against my chest. This was affectionate behavior. Very affectionate behavior. Damien had never been like this with me before. And I liked it.
I slid my hand on top of his and nuzzled against him. It was as if his touch put my mind at ease, and my emotions calmed into a sea of contentment. Or maybe that was just the drugs. Either way, I was pretty damn happy.
If I could have laid there with him forever, I probably would have. Minutes turned into hours, or at least what felt like hours. The sun had long gone down over the horizon, leaving us shrouded in shadows. And I knew it was time to go.
I rolled over onto my back, hoping he wasn't asleep. Damien was laying there, looking at me. His gaze was so intent that I was afraid to say anything. And then he leaned down to kiss me, very gently, on the lips. I cringed away, feeling bad for it.
“What's wrong?” he asked, looking somewhat offended.
“I have vomit breath.”
“I hardly noticed. But you're right. You should go rinse your mouth out.”
I got up and headed to the bathroom, though I doubted rinsing my mouth out would help much. My breath was rocking, and not in the good way. After rummaging through the cabinet and finding a tube of toothpaste, I brushed my teeth with my finger as best I could and then rubbed them down with toilet paper. They weren't very clean, but at least they smelled minty fresh.
When I reemerged from the bathroom, Damien was gone, and I was forced to track him down. I found him in the living room, watching the news, looking relaxed. Reluctantly, I went to sit beside him.
“I should go,” I muttered.
“You should stay,” he replied almost absentmindedly, and then added, “I don't want you driving all doped up.”
“Okay,” was all I could think of to respond.
We sat in awkward silence for several minutes. Well, at least it felt like awkward silence for me. Damien was intent on watching the news, though it bored me to tears. I needed a different type of entertainment. Something more . . . physical.
Nonchalantly, I placed my hand on his thigh. He looked down at it, then glanced at me and said, “Are you sure you really want to go there?”
“I'm curious about the lesson you had planned for me today.”
“You're injured and drugged up. I'm not sure it's such a good idea.”
“Unless the lesson involves me sticking my injured finger up your ass, I think I'll be fine.”
He gave a light laugh and then turned the television off before standing to lead me down the hall. Instead of going back to the classroom, Damien led me to the Master bedroom, which I could only assume was his. The bed was absolutely huge, one of the biggest I had ever seen, and there was a mirror hung over it. I smirked when I saw it. Damien Reed, you are a very naughty boy, and you never cease to amaze me.
“I would have thought you'd have something like that in the classroom,” I commented, pointing up at the mirror.
“I haven't gotten around to putting one up yet,” he said, barely even glancing at it. “If you haven't guessed, we're going to have the lesson in here tonight.”
I had guessed, but didn't bother to say anything. As was the standard protocol for our lessons, I took a seat on the bed. Damien went to his chest of drawers and extracted an object. When he turned around, he held it up for me to see.
“Tonight, we're going to play with sensory deprivation.” He approached me with the blindfold in hand, and I sat as still as a statue while he tied it around my head, taking away my vision. “When you can't see, all of your other senses become heightened.”
Damien caressed my thigh. A cool shiver shot up my leg as our skin made contact, moving straight to my heated core to swirl and throb there. I had felt Damien's touch dozens of times before, but somehow it was different. My body involuntarily tensed when he took his hand away, wondering what would happen next.
His fingers touched both legs this time, sliding up under my skirt to push it up my thighs. Cool air seeped between them, sweeping over my heated lips, and I hoped that Damien's hands would soon follow. He was teasing though, rubbing my outer thighs, making no attempt to move in towards my center.
My body ached for his touch, but I dare not ask for it. This was not a man who needed instruction. He knew exactly what he was doing, that he was teasing me relentlessly, filling me with want for him.
“How does that feel?” he asked.
“Good.”
His palms trailed down my thighs, making gentle circles over my knees before they finally changed direction and slid up between my legs. My breath hitched as I waited for them to reach their sweet destination, but they stopped short, receding back toward my knees, leaving me wanting. Such an evil, evil tease.
On the second pass, they reached higher, his knuckles kneading my inner thighs, his thumbs playing along the seam of my quickly moistening panties. I stifled back a groan, my breath already becoming ragged in anticipation. It took everything in me to remain steady. My body itched to grab his hand and shove his thick fingers inside my wanting cunt. He had control though, and as much as he was driving me insane, I knew I would have to wait until he was ready.
After a few more minutes of relentless torture, I began to wiggle, inching myself towards him as his hands made a stroke up to my thigh. As if to punish me, he withdrew completely, leaving my body burning for more.
“Not fair,” I whispered grumpily.
“You're impatient.” There was amusement in his voice.
“I want you.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
The hands returned, and I sighed in relief as they ran all the way up the length of my thighs to grasp onto the waistband of my panties. I was more than willing to lift my butt, so he could pull them down, knowing now that they were off, my pussy would be getting more attention.
When his hand returned again, it went straight for my wet folds. He petted a finger over them, running back and forth across the slickness of sweat and desire. I spread my legs a little wider and then blushed from my obvious display of need. It couldn't be helped though. My body was aching for him.
Damien's thick fingers made a few more passes up and down my engorged lips before they nudged inside, spreading my petals to get to the nectar of my feminine flower. When he flicked a fingertip over my erect nub, I thought I might choke on my own breath. I hadn't even realized I had been holding it up to that point. Warmth flooded through me as oxygen and pleasure coursed through my body. His fingers were undoubtedly skillful, rubbing and massaging and driving me insane.
He petted back and forth between my folds, moving from my pleasure button to my slit. When his fingers reached my waiting hole, he plunged two inside, and my body almost involuntarily bucked towards his hand, my mouth forming an O of approval.
“Yes,” I whispered shamelessly as he began moving in and out, thumbing my clit while he fingered me.
“Are you going to come for me?” he asked, though he was too confident to need a response.
I leaned back, feeling his fingers pick up an aggressive pace. The friction coupled with the pummeling against my clit quickly worked to drive me up the hill of insurmountable pleasure. My cunt made a squelching sound as he really began to pump, proof of my body's unrelenting hunger to be fucked. Soon, I could hold on no longer, and the world around me exploded into euphoric bliss as the tremors took over, rocking me to my very core.
Damien's fingers stilled inside of me, and his thumb focused on my nub, pressing and rubbing to milk out every last contraction. I gasped, wanting to sink back against the bed in exhaustion, but I knew we were far from over.
“I want your cock,” I said greedily, though I wasn't sure which end that I wanted it in.
I groped for him. The blindfold had suddenly become an annoying nuisance, but I knew it would displease him if I took it off, so I left it in place, fumbling around like a blind person to find his manhood.
“Stand,” I requested, and he did as he was asked.
My hand zeroed in on the bulge in his jeans, feeling the outline of it. He was already nice and deliciously hard for me. Once my mouth began salivating, I knew which end that I wanted his cock in first.
I moved to unbutton his pants with an urgency I'd never felt before. Within seconds, the velvety skin of his shaft was in my hand. It felt so smooth, so strong. I leaned forward and kissed at the tip, moaning as the wetness of pre-come painted my lips. My tongue lapped over it, tasting him, and he groaned in response.
I could have teased him like he had me, but my lust was far too great. Like a cock hungry slut, I accepted him into my mouth, wrapping my arms around his hips and practically face fucking myself. My strokes were long and deep, taking him all the way to the back of my throat while my tongue working to massage his veiny underside. As I bobbed, I groaned, so aroused from sucking on him that I felt like I might come again.
Damien reached to pull my shirt over my head, and I broke away from his cock just long enough to allow it. Then he lifted up my bra and took a nipple between each thumb and forefinger, twisting and tugging on them, sending need straight down to my recovering clit. As he did this, he began to buck. I moaned and opened my throat, allowing him to fill me with his meaty fuck stick.
After a while, he let go of my nipples and gripped the back of my head instead, curling his fingers into my hair and thrusting. For a while, I thought he was going to come in my mouth. I wouldn't have minded. My body was totally receptive to anything at that point, whatever his pleasure may be.
Eventually, he pulled away, leaving my mouth feeling empty. The only thing that made it better was knowing what was coming next. While there were many things about Damien Reed that were still a mystery to me, I did know him on a more carnal level. He wouldn't be able to resist claiming me soon.
My mound throbbed in anticipation, wanting him inside of me. His fingers had been good, but his cock was even better, thick and filling.
“Turn around and get on all fours,” he told me, and I was quick to obey, groping around blindly to make sure I was staying on the bed.
He grabbed me by the hips and pulled me back. I half expected him to slam right into me, but instead, he took his time, placing his hands on my ass to squeeze and caress my skin. My body shuddered with pleasure at his touch, my pussy aching needily. It was like the orgasm I had earlier hadn't even happened, my body felt so ready for more.
Still, Damien took his time, worshiping me with his fingers, which quickly trailed between my legs, slipping inside of me. I groaned, arching my hips back to take them in.
“You're very wet,” he noted.
“You make me that way,” I breathed.
Then he did something unexpected. He pressed two of his fingers deep inside and angled his hand so that his thumb could rub over the tight ring of my asshole.
“That's an out hole,” I warned.
“Is it?” He didn't sound convinced.
“Hard limit, remember?”
“It's not dirty, Chey, no matter what you think.”
“It is to me.”
“You might change your mind if you let me—”
“No. Nope. Not happening.” I shook my head.
Relenting, he dropped his thumb and focused on finger fucking my pussy. I groaned in approval, trying not to feel like such a bitch for not giving him his way. There were many things I'd do for Damien Reed, but that wasn't one of them.
My body rocked in sexual bliss under the weight of his hand, clamping and relaxing around his fingers, feeling him spread me wide in preparation for a larger intruder. The moisture between my legs felt like it was practically dripping, the heat of my sex begging to merge with him.
As if reading my mind, the hand withdrew, and I heard the crinkling of a condom wrapper before I felt something bigger take the place of his fingers. Damien's thick mushroom nudged at my entrance but didn't break though. Almost instinctively, I pressed my hips back, wanting to devour his manhood with my pussy.
“You're so wanton,” he noted with amusement in his voice.
“Give it to me, Damien. Please.”
“What if I don't?” He pressed it in just beyond the threshold, then pulled out again, rubbing tight circles around my entranceway.
“Then I might rape you.”
“That would be something,” he laughed, kneading his fingers into my ass cheeks, crawling them in toward my core and spreading my pussy lips. I could feel him watching me back there, and it made me embarrassed and excited. Damien Reed was a kinky sex God, and I was his loyal servant, bending to his every whim and will.
He practically owns me already, I realized. At least, he owns the pleasures of my body. Chase is good, but Damien is amazing. There's no comparison.
My thoughts were drowned away when he suddenly bucked forward, plunging me into the dark abyss of pleasure. I gasped in surprise, and then my mouth was all moans as he fucked me violently. His fingers dug into my hips so deep that it hurt, and his cock slammed against me so hard that it made a loud crack when our bodies met.
The ferocity of it was so intense that I almost couldn't breath between gasps and moans. My eyes were wide open, but all I could see was darkness. Every nerve in my body screamed with sensation, some pleasure, some pain.
The bed squeaked below us defiantly, sounding like it was about to break at any moment. My pussy mirrored its sentiment, burning from the force of Damien's lust. When he slammed against me, it felt like he was hammering into my depths, past my cervix and straight into my womb. Tears ran down my cheeks, soaking into the blindfold. For the abuse that my cunt was taking, my body wanted more. I had never been fucked so hard in all my life. And I loved it.
My tits swung heavily beneath me, almost painfully. I wanted to reach a hand up to tweak one of my nipples, but I knew if I shifted my weight for even a second, I'd lose my balance and fall face-first into the bed. Wave after wave of delicious heat pulsed through my clit, which was being savagely beaten by the slapping of his balls against it.
It wasn't long before my body could take no more, and I erupted into orgasm, clenching around him mercilessly. The intensity of it made me see stars, flooding my nether region with delicious heat. Damien kept pounding away, his cock fighting against my contractions. In the end, he won, fucking me until my muscles surrendered around his tool. He stopped long enough to grip me by the shoulders, and then picked up the pace until he was jack-hammering into me. The room was filled with the sounds of our skin slapping together, heavy breathing, and the smell of sex. Never before had the scent been so potent, practically intoxicating me.
“You're going to break me,” I breathed, though I wasn't sure if the statement was supposed to be seductive or literal. My cunt was starting to get sore, not unbearable, but definitely beyond what I was used to.
“No talking,” Damien growled, and I cowered beneath him, deciding to let him ride out his pleasure, using me how he saw fit.
The rest of our coupling was a mind fuck. Did he really not care if he was hurting me? Did he even realize how rough he was being?
I tried to arch my hips so that the position was more comfortable for me, thinking about how Chase would never be so rough. It was a conundrum. Part of me was frightened by how violent Damien's fucking had become, but part of me loved it. My inner tunnel was getting sore despite plenty of self-produced lubrication, but my clit wouldn't stop throbbing. It felt like I was almost in a constant state of orgasm. While my eyes could see nothing, the world pulsed around me. I could hear my heart beat ringing in my ears, feel the blood pumping between my legs, the sweat pooling in the curve of my back. Sex had never been such a workout before, and I wasn't even doing anything. Our bodies felt almost merged, like a well-oiled machine, working at optimum performance with the dial pressed all the way to overdrive.
Finally, when I thought that my arms might collapse beneath me from atrophy, Damien's body tensed. His sudden stopping brought on another surprise orgasm, and I gasped as we came together. For some reason, this orgasm felt even more intense than the last ones, probably because it was also an emotional orgasm from feeling like I was one with him. Whatever the reason, it was absolutely amazing, and I sighed in contentment, allowing my face to drop to the comforter while I panted out my pleasure.
In the darkness that surrounded me, all I could hear was heavy breathing. Damien pulled away, leaving my passageway empty and swollen. My pussy had really taken a beating tonight, I thought deviously, licking my lips.
“You can take the blindfold off now,” Damien said, still breathless.
I pulled it off of my head, then rolled over onto my side, looking at him. He was covered in sweat, the front of his shirt practically sticking to him.
“Why do you never take your clothes off when we have sex?” I asked.
“I never really think about it,” he replied, which sounded like a lame excuse to me.
“You know, I do rather enjoy the sight of you naked.”
“And I really enjoy being naked.” As if to prove he was telling the truth, he began to peel off his clothes, throwing them into a laundry hamper by the door. “I need a shower,” he said, and then disappeared into the bathroom without another word.
I frowned at the door, wishing he would have invited me along. With a sigh, I rolled off the bed, walking naked to the kitchen for a glass of water. All of that hot sex really dehydrated me. Once I got my water, I went in search of my things. I found them in the living room, which was as good of a place as any to leave them until I had to collect them in the morning.
Absentmindedly, I plopped down onto the sofa and grabbed my phone. There were two text messages, one from Tanya and another from Chase. Tanya wanted to tell me about the amazing date she had gone on with her new boyfriend. I really didn't have the energy to listen to it though so I decided to call her the next day. The other message about made my heart stop. This was the moment I had been dreading.
Chase's text read, “Hey, Chey, I can't take this uncertainty anymore. You know I love you. I really think it's time we took things to the next level. Please text me back.”
I didn't text Chase back. Though he was probably still awake, I convinced myself that it was too late at night. In truth, I wasn't sure what I would say to him anyway. Instead, I waited for Damien to get out of the shower, then took one for myself and crawled into bed beside him.
My mind was too addled with exhaustion and pain medication to allow me to get overly emotional, though there were still slivers of discomforting thought running through my brain. I wanted Damien to wrap his arms around me like he had when he found me crying, but he didn't. He simply lay beside me, as still as a corpse, presumably asleep.
Everything that had happened lulled me into a false sense of being with him. He was so attentive to me when I cut myself, so loving when we got back from the emergency medical clinic. That had melted away when we fucked. My feelings were still there. They never left. But he ran hot and cold, and I still had no idea what was going on inside his head.
There was no point in worrying about it now though. I didn't have to make an immediate decision. The weekend was over, and I could come up with excuses to put Chase off until I had my mind together. Tonight, all I cared about was sleep and the peace that it brought.