Ryan

 

 

 

I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have come to her like that, I shouldn't have fucked her like that, and I sure as hell shouldn't have left her alone like this.

But I couldn't help it. I'm running, fleeing from one side of my world to the other, trying to cope with either one and failing hard at both.

Laura has been with me for more than a day now. The 24-hour window I usually set for dates like this closed a few hours ago, and I have no intention of letting her go. I wasn't ready to let her go last time, but I still did it. I set her free when the time came, I said goodbye to her, and I stayed out of her life afterward. I did everything according to plan, I followed my self-imposed rules. I was as strict as I've always been.

And it still didn't work.

What's the point in following all those fucking rules if I'm still left feeling the way I do now? What's the point if my addiction ends up winning out anyway? Why do I even try?

I've been at this point before. I lost my mind about another girl during a time of my life when I couldn't afford to. I've known that sex is my addiction from a very young age. I was sixteen when I began my quest of trying to satisfy those urges, always excusing myself by believing that all male teenagers are like that. Boys that age are known to have nothing else on their mind, it's normal, it's healthy, it's expected. But not only did I never grow out of it, my cravings only grew with every year that passed, with every girl I had, no matter how many there were. I'm not proud of the person I used to be back then, breaking hearts left and right, taking advantage of the fact that my physique made me attractive to them.

I had a new girl at least every week, and I never cared to see any of them more than once or twice.

Until I met her.

Looking back now, I can't even say what it was that attracted me to Sandria. I‘ve pushed so vigorously to get her out of my mind that it's even hard to remember her face anymore. All I know is that she had the same long, brown curls that my doll has. And she was tall, too. I never thought I had a certain type, but if I do, this seems to be it.

Sandria was the first one who made me yearn for exclusivity – and the first victim of my overbearing obsession. It started out like every other fuck, a wild night filled with feverish passion, and then another one, and another one. I lost interest in any other girl. All I wanted was her. No problem there, right?

The problem was, I lost interest in everything else, as well. I was about to graduate college, but instead of preparing for my final exams, I rolled around in bed with Sandria all day and night. It consumed my life and hers. I stopped her from going anywhere, and when she began to protest, I locked her in. I've always needed to take charge, to control everything about the woman I'm with. But with Sandria, things out of hand – and they ended with me in handcuffs, and her completely repulsed by me.

It took a lot to dig myself out of the hole I had dug for myself, a lot of time and effort to resolve the problems caused by my behavior, my addiction with sex.

Once I had my life back on track, I tried everything I could think of to cope with the recurring cravings that almost destroyed my life. Everything. Even therapy.

It was then that Onyx Corporation was born. I had to channel my energy into something else, something big. I poured everything I had into that business, proving to myself that there were other things in life that deserved my full attention.

It worked out well for me, more than well actually. But it didn't kill my desire to own and fuck women in the same overpowering and domineering way that I always had. I was celibate for months, careful not to let my cravings take over my life again.

When I finally allowed myself to get back out there, I was quickly reminded of my obsessive nature. I hooked up with one girl, and then another one, and another one after that, all three of them within the same week. Each one left me unfulfilled and hungry for more. Regular dating was out of the question for me if I ever wanted to at least come close to satisfying my cravings without the risk of losing my head again.

That's when I came up with my system of only having sex once a year, and that was with someone who I had paid, a handpicked woman who knew what she was getting into. No dating. No feelings and no wasting time on anything but fulfilling my needs.

I never should have stepped out of line. I never should have dragged Laura into this, no matter how much I wanted her.

It's too late now. She's here, she's mine - and I have no intention of letting her go this time. The thought of sending her back out there is killing me. I can't let her leave and go through this agony again. All I can think of is her. Everything I have to deal with is secondary to being with her.

That's why I've been ignoring my calls and e-mails. I know Lemon has tried to reach me several times over the last two days. He doesn't know what I'm up to. I could have told him that I'd be out of the picture for a day or two because it's time for my annual retreat. I know he wouldn't have liked it one bit, and he would have protested and argued about it, trying to make me postpone this until after our acquisition was done. Or he would let me have my way, gnashing his teeth but compliant, the same as always.

I will never know.

He doesn't know about this house, no one does but my driver and my housekeeper. It's a secluded little mansion that serves as my own getaway, and not only for the times when I'm with another toy. I find solace in the serenity surrounding this property. I feel safe here, safe and sane, far away from everything else. Neither my driver nor my housekeeper suspect anything yet, as far as I know. My driver brought us here and I haven't summoned him since. He's the only person I really need to worry about because he's expecting my call to take Laura back home. But I'm not thinking about him right now.

I'm not thinking about anything or anyone but her.

I fled to the shower after leaving her room. Hot water is washing over me as I close my eyes, leaning my back against the tiles of my upstairs shower.

Laura. My doll.

I don't know what to do with her. I don't know what to do with myself. Impending doom is casting its horrid shadow over everything between us.

She may not have realized it yet, but she will at some point. She has no sense of time as long as she's inside that room, so I may be able to fool her into believing that we're still within our 24-hour frame for a while longer.

But it won't work forever. She will figure it out. She will realize what I'm doing, and then she'll hate me just as Sandria did back then.

And maybe that's my only way out of this.

I'm pushing the thought aside. Just like I've been pushing Lemon aside for the past two days. Lemon and his calls and texts, our aquisition, the meeting that had to be postponed because I wasn't available. None of it can make it through the wall that shields my mind from the rest of the world.

All that matters is the beautiful girl downstairs. The girl who's robbed me off my sanity with such ferocity that I couldn't even face her when I dashed into her room and attacked her like an animal.

I shouldn't treat her like that. Back in the far corners of my mind, I'm aware of that. I'm also aware of the fact that she was enjoying herself when I ravaged her sore little body. And I'm aware that I left her unsatisfied and confused. Instead, I fled from the room like a coward, hiding in the shower in an attempt to cleanse my mind of the oppressive insanity that's taken a hold of me.

I turn the water off, exposing myself to the cold air outside the shower when I step out of it, grabbing a plush towel and dabbing myself dry as I walk out of the bathroom. I throw on a pair of pants and a shirt, as if my previous nakedness was at the root of my lack of self-control. Even if I continue to leave her unaware of the gravity of her situation, I can't leave my doll alone like this.

I make my way downstairs, ready to confront myself with her confused and saddened face after what happened just a short time before.

But I don't find any of that. Instead of finding a lost girl with her green eyes glued to me in a bewildered expression, I find my doll spread out on the bed, moaning in ecstasy as she pleasures herself with one of the toys stored in the glass cabinet in her room. She's so immersed in pleasure that she didn't even hear me coming. Only after I close the door behind me does she lift her dazed eyes toward the door, her expression quickly changing as she spots her master looking down at her, slowly shaking his head.

"What a bad little girl you are," I say, slowly approaching her with daunting steps.

“Bad, bad little doll.”