Once a Myth

God.

My skin broke out in goosebumps from his touch. His breathing remained shallow and short as if fighting his own battles by having me so close. I dared look down, swallowing again at the tented arousal of his wet trousers.

I closed my eyes as he tightened the straps, brushing my nipples and pussy with his hands.

Unlike the other day when he pushed me against the boardroom table and threatened to make me wet, he didn’t have to make it a challenge to prove a point.

He’d succeeded in making my body a traitor the second his tongue had touched mine.

And I hated it.

I hated that I stood before him, nude and unprotected, and instead of scratching out his eyes and kicking him in the balls, I obeyed, I swayed, I wanted.

I’d become a horrendous clone of his brainwashed goddesses.

“Open your eyes.”

My eyelashes flashed open. Our gazes connected. I grew dizzy looking into him.

Piercing blue.

Suffocating blue.

Drowning, drowning, dead—

A door to the back of the room slid open. “Sir?” Jealousy stood on the threshold. Nervousness painted her face, but she held her ground. “Would you like me to finish the process?”

Sully looked over his shoulder at her, breaking our stare, allowing me to live again, reincarnating me into yet another traitorous existence. “I’m capable of preparing her.”

“Yes, of course. I didn’t mean—”

“Leave.”

She nodded and vanished.

Without looking at me, Sully strode toward the cupboard to our left. Opening it, he pulled out a trolley already stocked with whatever items he needed. Wheeling it to me, he locked the wheels beside me, then paused. He chewed on indecision before swallowing with determination.

Without a word, he scanned the trolley and its many boxes. Six in total. All black with a purple orchid stencilled on the top. Selecting the first, he pulled out a vial of glistening pearly oil.

I waited as he unscrewed the top, placed the vial down to put thin gloves on his hands, then poured a generous amount into his palm.

“What are you going to—”

His hands landed on my shoulders, dislodging Pika, who flew away with a snippy squawk, only to find mischief on the trolley, nibbling at the boxes, muttering to himself.

I stayed as stiff and as carved as the mermaids in his water fountain outside his office as his large, strong hands smeared oil over my shoulders, down my arms, over my hands, between my fingers, and back up to my throat.

He kept his eyes on my body, tipping more oil into his palm and going behind me.

I swallowed a moan as he massaged my back, ran his touch down my spine, staining every inch of me with the slippery stuff. My legs pressed together as he kneaded my ass. Dumping more oil into his hands, he ducked to his haunches and spread the coating down the backs of my thighs, my ankles, to the tops of my feet. When my back half was sufficiently covered, he returned to my front, kneeling in front of me to smear my front thighs, shins and bottoms of my feet.

Rising to his tall height, he smeared the remainder over my lower belly, up my ribcage, breasts, and collarbones, continuing his torture until my brow, cheekbones, and chin also shone.

Only once every part of me glistened a pearlescent hue did he place the vial back into its box and snap off his gloves.

My voice was rough and full of hunger. “What did you just put on me?”

“Something that will hijack your sensitivity.”

I scowled. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll see.” Taking the next box, he pulled out a sheet of skin-coloured dots. Peeling one off, he ordered, “Give me your hand.”

Hesitantly, I placed my palm in his. His long fingers kept me trapped while he very carefully positioned the dot right over my fingerprint. He continued until all ten fingers were covered with the fleshy toned sticker.

“Will you tell me what these do?” The latex-type material deadened my ability to feel when I pressed my fingertips together.

He gave a half-smile, tight and cool. “They change your sense of touch.”

“Why?”

“You’ll find out.”

Swapping boxes, he opened the third. This one held a small bowl and a bottle the size of a travel mouthwash. Inside rested a blue liquid. Cupping my chin, he held me steady while he tipped the bottle against my lips.

Immediately, I reeled backward, only to remember I wore a harness locking me to the ceiling.

I couldn’t run.

I couldn’t refuse.

“It’s not elixir,” he murmured. “Not yet at least.”

“What is it then?”

His features turned dark with annoyance, as if he wasn’t used to being questioned. But he sighed impatiently, granting me an answer. “It warps your sense of taste.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “My answer will be the same for all your questions. You’ll see.” Pressing the bottle to my mouth again, he added, “Now, swill. Don’t drink. Just swish and spit.” Holding up the bowl, he waited for me to obey.

I allowed the liquid to splash past my lips. Swilling like I would after cleaning my teeth, I spat out into the little silver bowl he held. Placing both discarded items on the trolley, he brushed Pika away from the swirling blue liquid, giving him the lid of the bottle to play with instead.

He did it subconsciously. So comfortably. A flicker of a genuine smile on his face watching the antics of the tiny terror. It spoke of a relationship between man and bird far deeper than I’d thought.

Once again, something tenacious and vicious kicked my heart. Something that said he’s different. He’s not what you think.

Stupid kick.

Stupid thoughts.

Sully was exactly what I thought. A dealer in sex using bought and trapped women.

Don’t forget that!

Don’t be that stupid.

The fourth box opened. Sully pulled out a thin tube. Unscrewing the lid, he crowded close to me and cupped the back of my neck. I tried to lean away, but he brought the tube under my nose and smeared something cool and astringent under my nostrils.

It didn’t smell.

It didn’t destroy my olfactory abilities, and I still drowned in Sully’s unique scent of sea, sunshine, and coconuts.

“If that’s meant to ruin my sense of smell, it hasn’t worked.”

I didn’t know why I gave him a heads-up that it hadn’t done what I suspected. In fact, none of his tricks had. My skin still felt like mine. My sense of smell still operated. My fingertips didn’t like the coverings, but it didn’t truly stop my sense of pressure or heat.

“It will do. When you step into Euphoria.”

I scowled. “You said I’m in Euphoria.”

He tossed the tube into its box, opening the fifth. “You are. But it’s not what you think. You’re standing in the room where Euphoria takes place but…the location isn’t physical.”

“I don’t understand.” I wanted to keep repeating that phrase.

I don’t understand.

I don’t understand.

You.

But Sully lost any magnanimity about answering my questions and held up two small buds. I guessed they were for my ears before his electrifying touch brushed aside my hair and inserted one into my ear canal.

Goosebumps sprang down my arms and spine, pebbling my nipples and ensuring he saw, rather visibly, what his touch did to me.