by Red Phoenix
Glee looks up at Samantha expectantly as she lies down. I can see by Samantha’s expression that she is now fully realizing and appreciating the power she wields over glee. It seems to be as intoxicating for her as it was for me my first time.
Samantha begins exploring glee with her lips, being thorough as she tests every little sensitive spot, drawing out her exploration while she finds the area where she wants to leave her mark.
Glee is totally invested, squirming and moaning whenever Samantha finds another sensual area to mark. By the time she is done, Samantha has located at least five and left glee wondering which one she will choose.
Brilliant.
Lying down beside her, Samantha reaches between her legs and begins stroking her clit lightly as she leaves a trail of light kisses over glee’s chest. What starts out slow and sensual soon becomes hotter when her fingers begin moving at a more rapid pace.
I watch glee respond to her, spreading her legs wider as her pussy gets wetter and more swollen from Samantha’s concentrated attention.
Soon she is arching her back and panting loudly.
Samantha takes the cue, leaning down and sinking her teeth in just above glee’s nipple. Taking her time, she draws out the bite by slowly increasing the pressure of her teeth, causing glee to cry out in desire.
When glee begins squirming with pleasure, Samantha surprises her by slapping her pussy hard with the palm of her hand.
Glee momentary freezes from the unexpected shock, then begins moaning even louder when Samantha begins stimulating her clit again as she bites down hard.
I watch as glee’s hips rise in the air and her pussy begin pulsing rhythmically as she comes.
Afterward, Samantha raises her head and I see the mark she’s left behind. The indents of her teeth are deep and clear, but the skin is left unbroken.
Samantha leans in and kisses glee on the lips. “Now you have something to remember me by.”
I see the look of admiration in glee’s eyes when she answers, “Yes, Mistress.”
As they lay there together, basking in the success of their scene, I feel a deep sense of accomplishment. Not only did the lesson go off without a hitch, but Samantha has also proven herself an intuitive Domme.
I feel strongly that she will do well in this environment and it may prove as life changing for her as it has been for me.
Samantha glances over at me and frowns slightly.
“What?” I ask, wondering what’s wrong.
“You look different with your guard down.”
I don’t know what she means and immediately dismiss it, until glee agrees.
“You look…at ease, Sir. It’s very becoming on you.”
I laugh it off, but the truth is, I have a feeling of inner satisfaction that I have never experienced before.
“This is the perfect stopping point for the lesson tonight. Glee, when you are ready, clean yourself up and dress. I’ll take you home.”
After she leaves the room, Samantha asks me, “So, Sir Davis, when is our next lesson?”
Watching Samantha as she took on the role of a Domme, I saw a whole new woman emerging. It is a heady feeling witnessing the transformation and knowing I’ve had a part in it.
“I’m unsure at this point, but I’ll let you know.”
“As long as there’s another, I can be patient.”
“You did well today, Samantha.”
She looks down at the floor, smiling, but when she meets my gaze again, I’m struck by her vulnerability. She whispers, “Thanks.”
Taking two stairs at a time, I head up to the dorm room, anxious to tell Anderson how successful the night has been. I burst into our room and instantly stop in my tracks.
The room is dark and empty, but the hairs on the back of my neck start to rise.
I know that smell…
A paralyzing sense of dread takes over as remnants of her perfume linger in the air—taunting me.
Master of Lies
Before I can recover from the shock, Anderson comes barging into the room. He glares at me, screaming, “What the fucking hell, man?”
I quickly shut the door, telling him, “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“You bet I do. Because all this time, you’ve been lying to me. Fucking asshole! You had me believing your mother was dead—but she’s not. She’s very much alive.”
I shake my head violently, not wanting to believe she’s forced herself back into my life.
“You’re a dick, Thane. And yes, she told me your fucking name.” He walks over to me, getting all up in my face. “I thought we were friends, but I don’t even know who you are.”
I concentrate on taking deep breaths so I don’t release the all-consuming rage I’ve struggled to suppress for the last two years, on my friend.
Anderson stares at me, his gaze full of shock and disappointment. “A real man doesn’t treat his own mother that way, especially after what happened with your father.”
I’m finding it more and more difficult to breathe, and the rage only builds when I hear him mention my father in the same breath as the Beast.
“How did she get to you?” I demand.
“Your mother came looking for you, buddy.” He bites out the last word disdainfully. “And, damn, you should have seen the tears when she learned you told me she was dead. It wasn’t right for you to put me in that position, asshole.”
“Where is she now?” I insist, my heart racing now.
She’s going to ruin everything…
Anderson puts his hand on his chest. “I did right by your poor mama by taking her out for dinner.” He glares at me. “I’ve never seen a woman so brokenhearted—so many damn tears. I understand now why you’re so shifty about your past. You have a lot to atone for.”
I’m royally fucked. I know firsthand the kind of damage she’s capable of.
“Anderson, you can’t believe a word she says,” I warn him. “The Beast is the master of lies.”
He points his finger at me, digging it into my chest. “You better not ever call your mother that again in my presence.”
I shake my head in sheer disbelief, stunned that she’s already managed to turn Anderson against me. Staring at him in shock, I’m unable to hide the intense hatred I’m feeling for her.
“Yeah, that look you’re giving me right now—that’s the real you. She warned me I would see it,” Anderson informs me.
With more control than I knew I possessed, I make no move toward him, growling through gritted teeth, “Stop defending the Beast.”
He cocks his fist back to hit me, but stops himself just before making contact. Instead, he hisses with disgust, “I can’t even stand to look at you.”
Anderson slams the door so hard, the entire room rocks from the force of it. The silence that follows is deadly.
I close my eyes as a chilling numbness overtakes me…
Now that I know she’s here, I can’t get the taint of her out of my mind. Being alone only makes it worse.
I seek out the Russian and find him playing pool with the guys at his dorm. “Durov,” I call out, my voice shaking with the unmanageable anger raging inside.
He’s bent over the table, about to take a shot, but as soon as he hears my voice, he looks up and instantly lowers his pool stick. Without saying a word, he hands it to one of the guys. Grabbing my arm, he walks me outside.
“I can see you are seething with rage.” He spreads his arms out. “Go ahead, hit me.”
I stare at him, frowning. “I’m not going to hit you.”
“It will help release the negative energy. Trust me.”
After several proddings, and against my better judgement, I hit him halfheartedly in the chest. He immediately follows it up with a hard jab to my gut.
My instinctual reaction is to hit him in the face, bloodying his nose.
Durov smiles at me like a crazy person before he lets loose. The two of us fight, hitting each other over and over until we are both bloody—and I have
no fight left in me.
I fall to the ground, spent and panting for breath.
Durov sits down beside me and bumps my shoulder. “What is wrong, moy droog?”
“My…”—I struggle to say the word—“…mother is here.”
“I know.”
I look at him with concern. “How? Did she come to you?”
“Da.”
Unlike Anderson, he does not seem upset by the encounter. “What happened?”
“The woman accosted me outside the cafeteria after my evening meal.”
“When you say accosted, what do you mean?”
“She was teary-eyed and sniveling outside the cafeteria when she called out my name. I did not recognize who she was.” Durov adds with a smirk, “So, naturally, I stopped to speak with such a beautiful woman.”
I swallow down the fear growing in my heart, knowing the fatal affect her beauty has on men. “What did she say to you?”
“The woman claimed she was looking for you, and asked if I knew where you were. Not being a trusting soul, I demanded to know exactly who she was. When I heard she was your mother, I was tempted to escort her to your dorm, remembering our conversation about how much you loved her.”
I cringe, remembering that conversation. I wasn’t forthright with Durov then, and now I’m living to regret it.
“But, how the hell did she know who you were in the first place?”
“I wanted to know that myself, comrade. When I asked her, I learned she had already spoken to Anderson.”
I feel the air leave my lungs and wonder how much she was able to weasel out of an unsuspecting Anderson over the course of an entire meal.
The possibilities are endless.
This is my fault…
In wanting to protect myself and not speak of her, I’ve left everyone I’ve grown close to vulnerable to the Beast. I should have known that even a restraining order wouldn’t stop her.
The ugly reality is that as long as she lives, I will always be at her mercy.
I will never know peace…
Durov continues, “When she started whining about your betrayal and pressing me for more information, I knew what I was dealing with…”
A spark of hope rises within me. “What?”
“A traitor.”
Tears prick my eyes as I whisper a hoarse, “Yes…”
“I remembered then that when you spoke of her, it was always in the past tense. A man doesn’t do that unless the person has died in their heart. I, myself, have known such betrayal.”
I want to hug the bloody Russian. “What did you end up telling her?”
“I called her a whore, and that I would see her in hell.”
I let out a strained laugh, imagining the expression on her face.
Durov slaps me hard on the back. “You are like a brother to me, moy droog—I will never betray you.”
I accept what’s happened is partly my fault. Anderson trusted me completely, but I didn’t trust him enough to be entirely honest.
I can’t blame him for feeling betrayed by me, but it still hurts when I return and find his bed empty. I need to talk this out before her words worm their way into his mind so deeply that he won’t be able to hear the truth.
My mother is effectively cruel.
I can only imagine what my father felt the day he died.
Feeling the need to check on Samantha, I give her a quick call. It goes through to her answering machine and I am forced to leave a message.
I have a bad feeling about Samantha…my mother has the ungodly ability to pinpoint a person’s weakness and chip away at it with deadly precision.
I cannot let her hurt my friends.
Rather than worry about Samantha, I decide to take action. Even though it’s after hours, I head to her dorm and wait until an opportunity presents itself to make my way inside without being noticed.
I take the stairs to her floor, taking care to avoid detection since males are not allowed in the building after ten PM.
After waiting several minutes in the stairwell for a conversation to play out in the hall before it is empty again, I approach Samantha’s door and knock softly.
I hear her broken voice on the other side. “Who is it?”
“It’s me.”
I hear her walk to the door, but she doesn’t open it. “Leave.”
“Did a woman claiming to be my mother approach you?”
“You can stop with the games. I know who you are.”
“Samantha…don’t let that woman get into your head.”
“I hate you, Thane.”
I cringe on hearing my given name, knowing my mother has gotten to her. Laying my hand on the door, I tell her, “Don’t listen to the lies you’ve been fed.”
With a voice full of venom, she answers, “Every one of them came from you. How dare you take advantage of my loss? If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling campus security.”
I’m shocked at how thoroughly my mother has entangled herself in my life in a matter of hours and I suspect she’s been spying on me and planning this for days, with the sole intent to strip me of the people closest to me.
That’s why I need Samantha to hear the truth before I leave tonight. “I may have kept my past from you. But, Samantha, I meant it when I told you I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you.”
I hear her whimper on the other side of the door. “Why did I believe you?”
She moves away from the door just as the ding of the elevator alerts me that time has run out.
I head back down the stairs, facing the very real possibility that my mother may have caused irreparable damage.
When I return to my dorm, I find Anderson has returned, but he has his back to me and his headphones on. I know he doesn’t want to talk, but his friendship means too much to me to let this go.
I put my hand on his back, and he shrugs it off. I put it back until he finally turns and pulls off his headphones, growling angrily.
When he sees me, however, he instantly blurts, “What the hell happened to you? Finally get what you deserve, I see.”
I’d forgotten what I must look like after the fight I’d had with Durov, but I brush it off without explaining. “We’re talking this out.”
“What? You want to have a heart-to-heart now? Because that’s what I thought we had until I found out you were a fucking liar…and worse.”
“What are you insinuating?”
His eyes narrow. “I know what you did. What your mother is trying to hide.”
I snarl, “What I did?” The fucking nerve of her! “What exactly did the Beast tell you?”
Anderson growls angrily. “I told you to stop calling her that. You can quit with your fucking act now.” He lowers his voice and says ominously, “I know what really happened.”
I fold my arms, staring him down. “What?”
“You’re mother has been covering things up to protect you.”
She never protected me. No, she threw me under the bus to protect herself. I cannot, and I will not, lose his friendship because of her.
“I need you to hear me out,” I insist. “She’s had her chance to spew her version of his death, so I’m asking you to hear mine.”
His frown deepens. “You’ve had all year to tell me your version.”
“I know I made a mistake by keeping it from you, but she is the reason I’ve been hiding my identity.”
“You can talk all you want, but you’ve lost all credibility with me.”
“Whether you chose to believe me or not, you should know the truth.” I pause for a moment. This is something I’ve never shared with another soul, not even Durov. “If you’ve followed their history in the news, you’d know my parents were happily married for many years—I can attest to that. They were considered a golden couple, my father compared to the sun and my mother the moon. They were adored by the media and music lovers alike. But, there came a point, when I was eleven or twelve, when it seemed like something brok
e inside my mother. She changed, became colder and more distant toward my father…and me.
“Instead of being proud of my father’s talent as a violinist, she suddenly became jealous of him and resentful. First that resentment was directed toward his travel schedule, then it turned into jealousy toward his fame until paranoia took over and she became convinced he was being unfaithful.”
“He was unfaithful,” Anderson interjects. “She showed me the proof.”
“The proof she manufactured for the media after his death, wanting to gain sympathy from the world in order to distance herself from the guilt she was carrying.”
Anderson folds his arms, clearly not convinced.
It’s insulting not to be believed when this is so important, but I forge on for both our sakes. “It was my mother who changed—not my father. I never doubted his love for her. But the truth is, my mother had been having affairs for two years before his suicide. When I accidently walked in and discovered her betrayal, she insisted I keep quiet.
Anderson interjects, “The way I heard it, you knew of his multiple affairs, but you kept silent to protect him.”
I snort in disgust. “Typical. She’s stays close enough to the truth for it to be plausible, but reverses the blame to show herself in a good light.”
The numbness returns as we continue to talk.
My father is dead.
I will never see him again in this lifetime.
And, she is the reason he killed himself that day.
I shake my head, trying desperately to keep the visions of his death from replaying in my head. “Anderson, understand this. As far as I’m concerned, she’s to blame for his death. Her actions killed him even though he was the one who pulled the trigger.”
Thinking out loud, I admit to him, “I should have told my father when it first happened. I knew what she was doing was wrong but, ultimately, I chose to keep silent to protect our family.”
I see a sliver of sympathy in his eyes.
“I don’t know what to believe…” he mutters. “Either story could be true, but you purposely lied to me to keep me in the dark. Those seem like the actions of a guilty man.”
I look at Anderson, the guilt associated with my father’s death a constant weight on my shoulders. “Maybe I am partly to blame for his suicide because I didn’t tell him what was happening…but I was only a thirteen-year-old kid trying to keep his family intact.”
