I carry my beautiful burden with me to the spacious living area. All done in various shades of crème, brown, and gray, I can’t help but think it doesn’t truly reflect Trevor. While lovely and undoubtedly expensive, the décor gives no impression of the man who occasionally lives here. I would’ve loved to have seen the space decorated with antiques, dark wood, and rich, jewel colored fabrics.
However, he never asked for my opinion. He simply brought me here after it was purchased, painted, and furnished.
I have to admit I did think Trevor would ask me to move in. I also have to admit I was a more than a little hurt when he didn’t. Hence my wondering if I had misread his previous offer of buying me a townhouse. Did Trevor mean to live with me there when in town? Did I inadvertently reject and offend him when I refused?
My Trevor is a funny sort when it comes to his feelings. And yes, he has feelings that don’t center on his glorious cock. He’s tender beneath the severe surface. He has a fondness for children and animals. He’s disgusted by big-game hunts and sees it as a grave and telling moral flaw of those who participate. Fox hunts sicken him especially.
Trevor despises cruelty against those who are weaker and unable to defend themselves. Strange, isn’t it, considering that much of his behavior towards me can and should be construed as cruel?
Does it mean he thinks of me as strong enough to handle his darker needs? I certainly hope so.
I set the vase down on the glass coffee table. My fingers tuck a bloom here and there, intent on arranging the bouquet to its best advantage. Trevor has removed and put away his overcoat, jacket, and gloves. Seated on the low-slung slate couch, he watches me attempt to beautify his home with my presence. Aside from a few personal effects, the flowers are the only part of me to stay permanently when he is in town.
I must make them perfect.
Like always, I find myself observing him in return, trying to decipher his mood and emotions through the subtle. His arms are resting on the couch’s back. Trevor’s in a relaxed, playful mood.
Good. Relief pounds blood-thick. I would’ve hated to know he was disturbed on his trip. He carries too many responsibilities as it is. Although if he was, I’d know how to drain away his frustration. It’s my specialty apparently.
As always, I can’t help but wonder if he has missed me like I’ve missed him. Am I as much home to him as he is to me?
I should be brave enough to ask. But I’m not. Strip me to my core and you’ll find a coward, a woman so afraid she’ll push away the man she loves because she’s obsessed with knowing her place in his life that she’ll also flay him raw as a result. So raw he’ll have no choice but to throw her away.
I’m not that brave.
It’s easier to think of the sex. That’s why I do so much of it when I’m with Trevor. In that violent dance of limbs, we’re open and honest. Outside of our twisted lovemaking, he allows me to pretend I’m not a jumble of nerves. Otherwise, he’s fanatical about me being accessible to him in every way.
He doesn’t allow me to shut myself off, or parcel out myself piece by stingy piece. It’s an ingrained habit now to keep my eyes open when we make love/fuck/have sex. Otherwise, it’s too easy to hide what he makes me feel and Trevor will not tolerate such defiance.
My openness is not kept to the proverbial bedroom. Let’s just say there’s nothing too private that can’t be done in his presence and leave it at that.
See? He’s not such a proper British gentleman, is he?
Trevor has seen me at my best and my worst. I’ve seen only what he’s allowed me to see. It’s not fair.
And yet here I am and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. I did mention I was obsessed and beyond all hope, didn’t I?
“Rebecca.”
I pat one rose a final time and move the vase a fraction of an inch to the right. I turn around and go to him. I know my heart is a bruised Valentine bouncing around in my chest. I smile at his somber beloved face, hoping my visit will bring a little bit of joy to his staid, solemn life.
I never pictured myself a martyr or benign angel of mercy. I was always so selfish and self-absorbed, focused solely on my needs and desires.
I hear love can change a person. I’m living proof it’s possible. I’m tender and understanding of people’s flaws now. I give out hugs whereas before I’d give out the finger. I no longer throw temper tantrums when my dance partner makes a mistake or when anything and everything goes wrong during a performance. I’ve softened so much I don’t even know that spoiled girl anymore.
I’m also every cliché wrapped up in a feminine package of blind need.
I want to save this man. I want to take away his grief. I want him to know my love.
I wish I could’ve forced his parents to give him the affection and approval he so desperately needed. I wish I could’ve taken away the razor from his little sister’s wrists. I wish I could’ve applied it to the man who left her pregnant so he could marry one rung up the social ladder.
I wish I could forever and always take away Trevor’s pain but I can’t.
So instead I let Trevor make me his perfect fuck doll. I take his cock like a good girl, let him put it wherever he wants, and I love it. I swallow his come, making sure not to waste one delicious drop. I let him tie me up. I let him blindfold me. I let him spank me until I’m a sobbing, mucus mess.
I obey him, never questioning his orders when we’re in bed, and am happy for it. I am his completely and I will never, ever abandon him.
I tried once.
I could justify that incident by saying I was having a bad night. I had faltered during a performance, taken a misstep when there should’ve been only flawless grace. Unsurprisingly, Trevor pointed it out and proceeded to grill me as to why I had made such a gross error in judgment.
I snapped. Shaking his hand off me, I grabbed my coat and stomped off before turning back around. I laid into him like I never had on another human being.
Now I know the reason for my rage. I’d tired of Trevor’s inability to love me on my terms. I was so exhausted of being on edge, deathly afraid of making any mistake that would cause him to turn me out in favor for another girl who’d agree to let him ply his rough sex.
So I screamed at Trevor, accusing him of having a silly, incompetent Rebecca in every major city. I still vividly remember the hardness of his expression. The face looking back at me was one of a stranger. Trevor stared at me as if I were a raving lunatic. He refused to say one word in his defense as I flung my vile charges.
Eventually I stormed out of the living room. I wouldn’t be able to use the elevator so I headed for the main, rarely-used entrance. He caught me just as my hand gripped the weighty door knob.
Trevor yanked me away, lifting me off my feet before subduing my flailing arms. He wrapped his arms around me and sank to the cold floor. His violent trembling punched through my rage.
“Trevor—”
“Rebecca, please…not yet…”
I must’ve quietly sat there with him for hours, body stiff and mind racing for what all this meant. In the aftermath of my explosion, silence was all we could trust. Eventually, Trevor picked me up and carried me outside to the balcony. I had the brief thought that he was going to toss me over the edge.
Instead, Trevor continued to hold me tight in his arms as we lied on the outdoor chaise. Quietly, he pointed out the constellations, filling my mind with tons of astronomy facts and interesting tidbits while not telling me anything of what really happened in the foyer.
Finally, once I almost drifted off in exhaustion he whispered, “No matter how far apart we are, we will always see the same sky together, Rebecca.”
I never tried to leave him again. He never critiqued any of performances either.
Trevor reached out for me. He takes me in his arms and I’m so happy I could explode. I’ll do my best to leach away the ugliness in his past and I won’t judge him for it.
I love him that much, you see?
Trevo
r unbuttons my coat with his long elegant fingers. My breath quickens. I never take off my clothes because he enjoys the unwrapping. Trevor once admitted every time he undresses me it’s like getting a new toy.
Which would be insulting if I didn’t know that he never got any as a child past the age of four for fear it would make him “soft.” It was bad enough he was a pretty as a girl—couldn’t add being a sissy on top of it.
I mourn for that little boy, deprived of tenderness and given the world as a consolation prize. Growing up poor wasn’t always easy for me, but at least I knew I was loved. I got to play outside with my Barbies, running through the neighborhood in games of tag, and dreading the streetlights turning on to end our raucous play.
Tag was and still is my all-time favorite game. I loved introducing it to Trevor. Thinking about how we ran throughout the penthouse, dodging the other in pursuit of base and safety, brings another smile to my lips.
There’s so much more I’d like to introduce to him. More happiness, more freedom, more everything. I want it all for Trevor.
But I can’t force it. I must be patient and let him come to me when he’s ready. I also have to accept that day may never come.
Loving Trevor is not easy.
He slips my coat off and tosses it onto the other end of the couch. It’s a red smear in the corner of my eye. I lay there passive while he undoes my dress. It too ends up thrown onto the couch. Trevor finally smiles when he sees my black lacy undergarments.
“Beautiful. I must be careful and make sure I don’t inadvertently tear them.”
My heart swells. I smile and reach up to trace his dark brow before feathering my fingers down the side of his jaw. “I’ve missed you, Mr. Trevor St. John.”
“I’ve missed you as well, Miss Rebecca Wilson.”
His soft voice fills me with dangerous longing. The barriers are sliding down. “Do you know what I did on Sunday?”
“No, tell me.”
His gorgeous, brilliantly blue eyes show me his sincerity. He truly wants to know. There’s dead silence whenever we part. No phone calls, e-mails, or texts. It’s deliberate by design. Trevor can’t be who he needs to be if he’s pining for contact. It’s not easy but I respect his needs. I curate my experiences; selecting the ones I know will humor and interest him.
Lying in his lap, head pillowed by his arm, I say, “I had an enormous chocolate sundae. Bananas, sprinkles—the works.”
“I’m jealous.”
“I even took a picture so you can see how phenomenally awesome it was.”
Trevor sighs. “You are such a naughty minx. You know how much I look forward to eating those with you. Now you will have had two while I only get one.”
“Mmm, I’m terrible. Greedy, really.”
“What else did you do that was bad?”
I tilt my head, considering my reply, looking all the world like a fibber.
Trevor bounces his knee. “Out with it.”
My lips turn up in an impish grin. “I masturbated. Nine times.”
“Nine times! Did you even try to control yourself?”
“No.”
He leans down and kisses me. For such a firm mouth, his lips are so incredibly soft. It’s homecoming when his tongue slides into my mouth. My nipples immediately harden, yearning for his attention. I pant, excited by a simple, sweet kiss.
Trevor moves back. His mouth is wet from mine. “Seems like I have a dirty girl in my lap. I should clean her…thoroughly.”
I nod, eager and excited. He scoops me up and carries me down the long hall leading to the master suite. The room is shadowed but my eyes are still drawn to the enormous bed crouched in the middle. Trevor has debauched me countless times on its surface. He’s made me scream in bliss. He’s made me cry as many times. I’ve slept the sleep of the dead there, curled in his arms and at peace with my world.
I so love that bed.
Trevor glances down. His smirk communicates knowledge of my carnal thoughts.
“I wouldn’t count on getting much sleep tonight, Rebecca. I’ve had to go far too long without you.”
“My offer still stands.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “As much as I appreciate it, I really don’t see how becoming your full-time sex slave will make either of us happy. You don’t want a slave, my dear.”
I shrug and say “It was just a suggestion!” while in total agreement. I don’t want Trevor submissive. At least not very often. Every now and then would be nice. But only for a little bit.
Trevor walks into the luxurious bathroom, more chamber than room, and sets me on my feet. I’m still wearing my heels but don’t step out of them. Trevor turns on the water and the tub begins to fill. There is no comforting mask of sound. The water doesn’t roar noisily. It glides out, whisper-quiet from ridiculously expensive plumbing.
Personally, I prefer my bathroom with its loud exhaust fan.
I want to undress him. I would if we were normal. Instead, I wait for Trevor to direct me, to let me know what is acceptable to him this time around. It changes like quicksand beneath my feet if I’m not careful.
Trevor typically doesn’t like to be touched. It makes him uncomfortable. Emotional neglect has that kind of effect. Which is why it’s amazing that he reacts the way he does sexually. Trevor is all hugs, kisses, and caresses then. He isn’t afraid to touch anything with his hands, mouth, or cock.
My fingers curl. It’s difficult sometimes to be so passive when all I really want to do is shove him to the stone floor and have my wicked way with him.
“Come here.”
Finally! I stride over to him. I know my eyes have already told their bawdy tale. Trevor pulls me close and cups the back of my small head in his large hand. “Undress me, you dirty girl.”
I’m a dirty girl for now. Soon I’ll be a bitch or slut. I can’t wait.
I unknot his tie, rolling it carefully before placing it on the vanity behind him. It’s the only thing I allow myself to be patient with. His shirt buttons slip free while I arch up and press my mouth against his. I can’t be this close to him without kissing him. Trevor tastes delicious and I’m soon whimpering with dizzy delight. My hands shove his white shirt off his shoulders before yanking his undershirt over his head. Then I’m fumbling with his belt.
I can’t get Trevor naked fast enough.
I unbutton his slacks and push them past his narrow hips. My arm brushes against the firm bulge waiting for me. I sink my teeth into his plump lower lip as I cup him and squeeze.
Trevor groans and whispers, “Hurry.”
My time is running out. He’s going to take over soon. Trevor can’t be passive even when he’s supposed to be.
Regretful for a moment, I leave off and kiss my way down his body. Easily distracted by the delightful bounty that is Trevor I find myself enthralled with his wide muscled chest. His nipples call to me. I close my lips over one and suck, enjoying the pebbling of his flesh beneath my tongue. Trevor inhales deeply and a thrill shoots through me.
I love bringing him pleasure large and small.
Unsatisfied with just touching him through fabric, I slip my hand inside his athletic briefs. My palm rubs along the length of his straining cock. I grip it firmly in my hand.
I give his cock a nice stroke. I want it in my mouth. I drop to my knees and yank his pants and underwear down. My fingers quickly untie his shoes. I hurry and slip them off his feet before doing the same with his socks. Soon he’s naked, clothes lying in a messy pile next to me.
My lusty gaze finds his. I ask for permission to suck his beautiful cock.
Trevor nods, eyes glittering brilliant blue. Sometimes I swear he says no just to be perverse because I know how much he loves me on my knees for him. Thankfully, tonight he’s not in the mood to deny me this.
I reach out and skate my hand along his impressive length. I admit it—I’m a size queen. I love Trevor’s big cock. I love the sounds it makes me emit. I love the incredible fullness it brings when he�
��s inside me.
I lean forward, mouth already watering for him. I moan when my lips slide over the broad head. I tongue the underside and suck softly, teasing him by not letting anything more into my mouth. This goes on for several minutes until Trevor cups my jaw and growls, “Open.”
I obey, already liquefied by his command. Trevor thrusts his hips forward in a sharp, steady rhythm while still keeping his hand on my jaw. I reach out and dig my short nails into his upper thighs. My mouth is no longer mine. It’s Trevor’s.
His to use however he sees fit.
He hits the back of my throat and I automatically gag. I tilt my head away, automatically inviting Trevor to lean forward so he can possess me completely.
Soon my nose is pressed against his dark crisp hair. I inhale, aroused further by the masculine scent that is uniquely Trevor. Eventually the tub faucet shuts off automatically. It is the only sound apart from my needy moans and Trevor’s deeper groans.
He uses my mouth thoroughly, alternating between short quick strokes and longer, penetrating ones. Greedy, he never fully leaves my mouth.
My tongue reaches out to lay flat against his heavy sack. He holds me in place, obviously enjoying the sensations. I curl the tip, moving it as much as I can. The skin tightens in response. Trevor is close.
I wasn’t always such an expert in giving Trevor head but practice makes perfect and I’ve had plenty of yummy practice. Before Trevor, I thought I knew how to give head. Wrong. I didn’t know how to do half the things I do now.
My tongue laves his balls. He presses closer. I’m open completely, feeling Trevor deep inside me. I’m long used to the sensation and thoroughly enjoy having my world narrow down to Trevor’s cock and balls.
My lace panties are beyond soaked. Warm liquid slides down my thighs. I’m afraid I’ll come if I touch myself. I clench hard with each of Trevor’s quick thrusts. My pussy is jealous of the attention my mouth is getting. So is my ass.
I’m definitely Trevor’s dirty girl.
His breathing changes. I feel him swell. My lips tighten further around his shaft and I suck even harder. The loud, wet sounds of my mouth make my pussy constrict further. I’m so incredibly aroused by pleasuring Trevor. It only goes to prove my natural submission to this beautiful man.
Need Me - Being Trevor's Toy Page 2
