Ryan

 

 

 

“Why not just call me by my name?” she asks, furrowing her eyebrows. “Laura.”

“That won’t work,” I tell her.

She rolls her eyes. Again. A habit that must stop.

“Is this part of the rules? Detaching my name, my identity?”

This time, I’m the one frowning at her. “Don’t be so judgmental.”

It’s distressing how close she is to the truth. Not using their name is a way for me to maintain distance between me and my temporary submissives. This one night is nothing but a brief retreat, an escape from the obligations consuming my everyday life – and a purge. I can only maintain control if I stick to these self-imposed rules. I have to.

I can’t get attached to the girls, and I never have – and I cannot become attached to her either, as much as she may mesmerize me. With her it might be even more important than ever to keep my distance. She’s not just a regular high-class whore, and I’m totally aware of that.

“Yes, it is part of the rules,” I say, catching her curious gaze. “You said you oppose my usual go-to title.”

“Title,” she repeats, huffing with disgust. “I’d hardly call it a title. It’s an offensive slur, nothing else.”

She’s sitting up unnaturally straight, preparing herself for my comeback.

“I bet I could get you to a state of mind where you’d love to be called a slut,” I say, lowering my voice as my hand carefully travels along her thigh. Her breathing hitches instantly. She’s so determined, so strong, but so responsive to my every move. Breaking her might be the most satisfying conquest yet.

“A space where you’re nothing but a drooling bitch in heat, dizzy with lust, on your knees, begging for me to give you another release, to fuck you silly. A place where you not only endure pain, you welcome it, you crave it, you need it, because it gets you off,” I whisper, observing every breath she takes, every flickering of her painted eyelashes, as feeble as her response may be. She’s barely moving, but telling me everything I need to know. “Some people call it sub space – have you ever heard of it?”

She takes in a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure as her body overpowers her mind.

“No,” she whispers, turning her blushed face to look at me. “But I’d like to see what it’s like.”

I smile at her, squeezing the flesh on her thigh so hard that she flinches. I bet she’d drool all over my fingers if I decided to explore the area below her skirt right now. Sweet Laura is so unraveled, she’d open her legs for me willingly, granting me access to her throbbing core without the slightest protest. I wish I could test my theory, but I can’t. Withstanding those urges is what this is all about. She’ll be all the more delicious once I can finally have her.

She’s wearing her brown wavy hair in an up-do tonight, delicate strands trailing out and framing her oval face. A wisp of hair is falling across her eyes when she lowers her gaze away from mine. I have yet to decide whether I prefer her hair up or down.

“Good girl,” I praise her. “I’ll be honored to take you there. But don’t think it will be easy.”

She chuckles.

“Mr. Hawkins, I don’t know you very well, and I probably never will, but I think it’s safe to say that I understand one thing,” she says, her eyes locking back onto mine. “Nothing is ever easy with you.”

I don’t know how to feel about the way she’s looking at me. There’s an eerie degree of understanding behind the green of her eyes. It feels as if she can see right through me, as if she can read everything I’m hiding from her. She knows I’m fucked up. There’s no possible way for her to know anything, but she looks at me as if she does. She can’t know about the disastrous turn my life took years ago, when the cravings took over and my life was almost shattered into as many pieces as my heart was.

I shake my head. Fuck that. I’m imagining things. She’s a beautiful girl who’s perfect to serve as this year’s fuck doll. That’s it. That and nothing more.

There we go. Doll.

“Doll,” I say. “That will be your name.”

“Doll,” she repeats, surprised at the sudden detour of our conversation.

She cocks her head to the side and moves her lips as if she’s tasting the word. “That could work…”

“It will have to,” I say.

She raises her eyebrows. “Fine.”

I have so much to teach her. She’s enjoying the privilege of a fool’s license for today, but once we’re under contract, I’ll no longer tolerate her ways of speaking to me.

“So, um, what happens next?” she asks.

My hand is still on her thigh, and I can tell she’s genuinely aware of my touch. The knowledge that I could fuck her right her and now is agonizing.

“If you agree to do this –”

“You know I do,” she interrupts me.

I raise an eyebrow at her.

“Impatient, are we?” I ask. “You better watch that tongue, doll.”

Her eyes narrow and she lifts her chin in a clumsy attempt at defiance.

“Make me,” she hisses.

The terrified gasp that escapes her lips when I reach for her throat is the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. My hand closes around her dainty neck and I push her back against the cushions of the sofa, while forcing myself beneath her skirt with the other hand. She’s too perplexed to struggle, but her hands instinctively fly up to her throat, clawing at mine in a futile attempt to free herself. Her gesture is anything but convincing, especially considering that she does the exact opposite with her legs. A single pinch at the inside of her thigh suffices to beckon her to open up for me, granting me more than enough leeway to caress her soft lips through her soaked panties.

“You may not like the name, but you are a little slut, aren’t you?” I hiss, my face so close to hers that I can feel her erratic breath on my lips. “Look at you, so wet and hungry for my cock.”

She moans when I pull the fabric of her panties to the side, invading her private area with an impatient force that conveys my need for her. I part her soft lips and stroke along her wet entrance. She presses her eyes shut in shame when a slick sound reveals her arousal. Her mind is struggling, screaming for her to resist my invasion, but her body betrays her. I don’t know if she does it willingly, but her hips move forward, egging me on to fuck her with my fingers.

I laugh and shake my head.

“My, my,” I say, drawing one last desperate gasp from her by deliberately caressing her hardened clit when I withdraw my hand. “Will you be a good girl for me now, or do I need to spank you, too?”

The flicker in her eyes tells me that a spanking sounds more like a promise than a threat to her right now.

So cute.

I let go of her throat and sit back on the sofa, nonchalantly reaching for my glass to take another sip. She remains in her indecent pose, her legs partly spread, her hands absentmindedly wandering to her empty throat, and her eyes wide with wonder as she stares at the ceiling above her.

This is all new to her. Whatever she just felt, she’s never felt it before, and it scares her as much as it excites her.

What a lucky man I am.

“Will you be good from now on?” I ask her, mainly to rouse her from her dazed state.

She clears her throat and slowly sits back up, placing her arm on the backrest of the sofa as she faces me. I can tell that she wants to fix her skirt, but she resists the urge, deciding not to push me any further.

Her green eyes lock me down and I can see her vibrant mind working behind them.

“Yes, I’ll be good,” she says, still trying to catch her breath.

“Where do I sign?”