I’ve been waiting in the bathroom for a long time. The shower pounds against the tiles in staccato bursts. The air is heavy with steam and the floor length mirror is completely obscured. This room has become its own pocket world. The world outside falls away and I am alone. I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Alone, quiet, and safe.
My mind plays back the parade of boyfriends who hurt me. Who raped me in the guise of being a good slave. Who hurt me over and over again until they left. And I went looking for a new master.
I can feel myself shaking and shivering. Sometimes, when I remember, I feel as lost and alone as when I was with them. And sometimes I feel like that’s what I want. That pain and the total loss of control. To know that the man standing over you could rip into your flesh and you would beg and scream and he would smile.
Sometimes I wish Pel would destroy me. Would leave me a bloody sobbing mess. He refuses. Says I’m not ready. Says he won’t be lumped in with my abusers. It’s only in the quiet that I can admit that I’m waiting for him to turn. To prove that this is all just one long setup, that he only builds me up to later break me.
When Sara is around or Pel is in the room, I can never see that happening. But I’ve admitted it to our therapist, in a one on one session. She says it’s normal. Normal to expect the behavior of people who have hurt us in the past, to be the same behavior that we’ll always get. But that doing so, when all evidence to the contrary is presented, is self destructive. And it’s gotten better.
I think that as awful as the morning was. As monstrous as killing and torturing one of the Circles breakers was…it was the right thing. It has separated the past from the present. Put a period to the life I lived before and showed me who I am. Strong. Capable.
I turn to the sudden cold rush of air and see Pel standing there. Nude but never naked. Sara is peaking out from behind him, mouth open, showing the reason he was delayed. The white foam of saliva and seed disappears as she swallows it all.
My eyes wander to Pels cock. The shaft erect and pulsing.
Sara’s dark voice purrs out, “I’ve saved some for you my love.”
I look between Sara and Pel. Sara, mischievous and indulgent. Pel, calm and waiting, but a dark eagerness sitting just inside his eys.
I sink to my knees, the soft bath mat cushioning. I slide my mouth down the hard length of him, tongue pushing against his pulse. My eyes cast upward, asking for permission. Pel nods.
I pull my mouth away. Hesitant. I ask, “Sir, will you please fuck my mouth.”
Pel looks a bit surprised. It’s the first time I’ve asked for brutal treatment. He pauses long enough that I’m sure I’ll be denied.
Then, his cock is pushing its way back into my mouth. Slamming against the back of my throat and I hear the tiger growl of “Yes. Mine.”