by JR King
Redness swirled in my vision. Women. I stepped toward her and shoved my hand out, palmed her face lovingly, then willfully crashed her against the wall. You won’t appreciate what happens next, just sayin’—if you’re the crying type, you might as well bail on the story. Look at the facts, I went to Church and paid my taxes, but I wasn’t a glass half full type of person. I didn’t process thoughts and emotions the way other people did, the way you do, so I get that you can easily blame me in a million ways that I acted—read: went apeshit—unlike you. For example, take this room. Not that it was a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde situation, but since I didn’t feel guilt or remorse poignantly in this space, their absence amplified everything else, justifying actions in the process.
“Listen to me, you selfish, spineless cunt.” I slapped Elena with intention, not hard, though, despite seeing red. “You gained five pounds, which only makes you look healthier! Were you on your way to become fat, I would have stepped in and made you lose the weight.” Just talking, I felt weary. I rubbed my face, pinched the bridge of my nose as I considered my words. “I’m not having a grotesque affair, other than the one that’s intended not to fire any of my employees! You think I skip dinner with you for kicks?”
“But…the sex.” She was finally cowering. “You’re very quiet…don’t let out the beast in you. I miss that. I miss that, Alex!”
I backhanded her. She smiled, her eyes a bright nautical blue. Jesus. She kept smiling, and I understood what she was after about now. “You’re cluelessly hot, more breathtaking than the Seven Wonders combined!” I dropped my hand and leveled my gaze with hers. “This unmet curiosity deserves a punch in the face, nothing else. Don’t draw out the sadist in me, Elena.” I could feel my molars rubbing against each other. My hands were tightly clenched fists, my nails digging into the skin of my palms. “I’m mean and relentless, don’t you ever try this again!”
Silence stretched into a long pause. The red haze of rage started to ebb away a bit as we stared at each other.
My voice leveled with calm, and was still flat. “Don’t go there, Elena. I swear it’s ugly and very mean.”
Against her own good judgment, she went there with a look that held little esteem. “I’m not good enough for you, sir? Not good enough like the twenty that came into this room?”
And just like that, the redness came back. You can’t say I didn’t warn you. “I swear to God, Elena. I get to the point of calming down a little, and there you go saying something incredibly stupid that snaps off my resolve.” Abruptly stepping back, I flung out my hands. “I could wring your neck. Choke you for all its worth.”
“Wouldn’t want that, would we? I must be treated like a porcelain doll.” She laughed contemptuously then. “If a man’s task is to die with honor no matter what, then a woman’s task is to endure.”
“Elena!” I roared out her name before my brain even registered her words. Repressed anger bubbled out. No, not bubbled: it gushed out. “Jesus fucking Christ, babe. You told me at Michael’s how horrible I am. Here I am, thinking I’m treating you well. Thinking, Oh God, don’t fuck her senseless every night, don’t give her bruises and welts. I would never cut you, that much I know.” Hoarse from screaming, my voice rasped like sandpaper. “Don’t snap, I keep telling myself. Don’t transgress, keep it sweet in the bedroom. Thinking, fuck, you asshole, get rid of the playroom and straighten your ways. Don’t make her spend her evenings crying because her boyfriend is a monster.” I glared at her infuriatingly beautiful face: her head was high, her gaze unflinching. “What an idiot, aren’t I? The entire time, you wanted the opposite.”
Her gaze speared toward me and found my eyes once again. “Apparently,” she shouted extremely hard, “I’m not good enough to experience the real you!” Her cheeks glistened from tears that were half dried up, and she used the back of her hand to wipe it all off. “In a moment of weakness, I used the syrup again. I won’t make that mistake again. I’m done with this shit. I’m tired of rich dick boyfriends, tired of living like this. You were supposed to be the one, the intelligent one, the older guy who knows it all, yet here I am, waiting for you to throw a pity fuck my way. You’re no better than all the others! I hope your dick falls off!”
Realizing she was breaking up with me, everything in me stood still. The desire to mark her became an all-consuming need. I didn’t just want to cut her, I wanted to imprint my initials on her, brand her skin so that she could never belong to anyone else but me. This is that moment, I realized, where obsession had gone beyond a simple need; my body burned for her and my mind ached to consume her uncertainty.
I was too choked up to scream, and acted seconds later. “Are you done, you mouthy bitch?” I didn’t wait for her answer. I bolted forward and backhanded her with enough force that her head snapped sideways and stayed there. “You fucking cunt!” I reached out to run a hand down the side of her face. My fingers were gentle at first, softly running over her flawless, reddish skin, but in an instant my movements turned vicious. I gripped her chin firmly and wrenched her face toward mine. “What is it you want from me? See the uncountable ugliness I have in me? Experience my dark side? Will that make you stay with me?” I reared back. “I think not!” I wanted to scream some more, but my voice broke.
“I think yes.” Her head snapped up entirely and her narrowed eyes flashed to mine. There was no fear, the only thing I could see swirling around in those dark blue depths was anger. “You pushed me away, Alex, just like Mitchell pushed me away. You work late because you don’t want to face me. You pay executives millions to keep your business afloat, there’s no need for you to bust your gut every night! You got tired of vanilla sex. Work is the perfect excuse, don’t try denying it! I messed up, I know that. But so did you.”
Her words scratched at my mind, as though they were embedded within a cold and corrosive metal poker she was using on me. It rankled me that she’d struck home. We both messed up. My chief diversion was work; it had been for the past two weeks. I hated that I missed play, hated that I missed Carina, hated that Elena was right. For those out there who still don’t get guys, take it to heart, a guy would rather cut off his tongue than admit he’s wrong.
I reached out and stroked her cheek with my thumb. She rested her face into my hand, nuzzling my palm. “You want to see, little Elena? Is that what you want?” Once again, I didn’t wait for her to respond. I backhanded her in a certain way so her knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor. I rolled her onto her back with a foot and rested my weight on it in the center of her chest. “I’ve marked women in the worst ways possible. Brands, cuts, bruises, welts. I’ve inflicted much pain, with their consent. Split lips, bloody thighs, shoe prints, chafed wrists and ankles. Can you imagine this? It isn’t pretty, by any measure, you cold-hearted bitch.” I increased the press on her chest. “I’m trying, Elena. I’m trying to do right by you. I know I’m a monster, and I’m trying to be normal!”
I saw minuscule tremors at the tendons in her neck. Her hands settled on my ankle, but she didn’t push me. “I’ve given you consent, Alex. I’ve never asked you for a reprieve.”
“I don’t want your consent! You know why?” To speak without a filter, I moved away and knelt beside her. “Because if I have it, I’ll hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you, baby.”
“You’re hurting me now, Alex. It hurts like hell when you don’t touch me the way you want to touch me.”
“Touch you?” I parted my knees and straddled her legs like a beast about to pounce and devour and satiate. “I won’t touch you, I’ll hurt you.” I leaned closer until my body shadowed hers. My thighs were on either side of her chest, pinning her to the floor. “I’ll hurt you good, cunt,” I whispered. I smiled at the sight of her cheeks that were red from my strikes. “I enjoy this and I shouldn’t, see? Can you see it?”
“You pushed me away! I hate you! Just another Mitchell.”
I grabbed her face, my hands cupping her cheeks. “Don’t you ever compare me to Mitchell again.�
�� My voice came out too raspy, and I swallowed to moisten my arid throat. “Don’t ever talk to me that way.”
“I-I hate you,” she croaked, her voice dripping with fear.
“Is that right? You hate me, kitten? My thighs squeezed her chest until she shook with pain and I with pressure. I heard her sharp intake of air as her breathing became unsteady. “Want to leave me?” I eased my grip slightly. She smiled, and any lingering doubt I had fled. I stopped squeezing her chest and moved over her. “I won’t let you leave. I want to possess you.” I ground the uncompromising hardness within my trousers against her and whispered, “You’re so fucked. I’m going to defile you. I’m going to fucking ruin you. Plunder that tight pussy.” I let my hand drift up and curl behind her neck. “Put your arms around me.”
She looked up at me, the fear had returned to her eyes. A twisted sense of euphoria crept up in me. “No shoe prints and cuts.”
Never had dry humping felt so good. “Is that it?”
“I think that’s about it.” It was a small statement uttered with a small voice.
I suppressed a laugh and pecked her forehead. “I give you my word, I won’t draw blood.”
“Fuck me,” she begged in a breathy, demanding voice. She moved to close the gap between our bodies, letting her hand curl around the back of my neck. I bolted back onto my knees when she pulled me down for a kiss, hefted her up, and tossed her on the rug in front of the fireplace. In two beats, she removed her dress, becoming all lickable flesh and pullable locks. Gained weight, my ass. My cock was heavy like a block of cement. I liked my women waify, and Elena was the epitome of a slender, svelte young girl.
Sliding my shirt down my arms, I let it fall to the floor beside her clothes. I knelt and swiftly covered her body with mine, my mouth seeking out hers. As I found it, I buried my tongue deep, extracting whimpers from her throat. Pressing a thumb against her jaw, I slid a hand beneath her neck to hold her in place while I ravaged her mouth. When I reached down to grab her breast, a low moan escaped her as I cradled it. My other hand slipped between our bodies and went between her legs. Without any hesitation, I pushed two fingers inside her and began thrusting in and out of her like a man possessed. My forehead was pressed to hers, my breath leaving my body in disjointed bursts. I was incredibly hard and she felt incredibly hot when I pressed against her entrance. I played with her wetness some more before I shoved my length forward and filled her with a vicious thrust of the hips. She was hot, slick, and unbelievably tight. I’d managed to bury myself deep with a single surge, and now that I was encased inside hot flesh that gripped me firmly like a loving hand, I couldn’t force myself to move gently. Bodies tensed and movements became urgent as we fucked each other in the most primitive way possible. On the floor, like animals.
My endurance limit was approaching, I couldn’t remember ever wanting her so badly. Logic told me to slow the fuck down, but my mind was beyond listening and her body seemed to love the pain. Her hands pulled my head down again and we kissed, not like civil beings, but the hungry animals we were at the moment. “Tell me,” a primal growl of need tore from my throat and went into her mouth. “Tell me how much you hate me, kitten. Tell me how much you hate this.”
She broke off the kiss. “I don’t hate you.”
“You compared me to Mitchell, Elena,” I panted. To drive the accusation home, I pulled out and slammed back into her. “You wanted to leave me tonight.” Sliding halfway out, I plunged into her again, very hard, and closed my eyes as it nearly undid me. “Jesus. Fuck,” I groaned. “You. Feel. Too. Fucking. Good.” I stopped and looked at her, her flushed face, and her beautiful, unmarked skin. “You, my cock whore, wanted to leave because I haven’t marked you lately.”
“God, no,” a strangled gasp leaked from her mouth.
That put me at ease, and I went in and out again before claiming her mouth. “You don’t hate me?” I groaned low in my throat, listening to the obscene wet sounds coming from our joined bodies that filled the sacredness of the playroom. “Are you sure you don’t hate me?”
“I love you, Alexander. I love you.”
I had to pause for a moment; the pleasure of our rhythmic fucking was making it difficult for me to gather my thoughts. She loves me. That’s what she’d said.
The words functioned like an aural aphrodisiac. I felt harder than I’d ever been in my entire life, solid like steel. Every part of me wanted it to go on forever, but I knew I was close to losing myself. I held her gaze and fucked her like the animal I was. I sweated, beads of it dripping onto her clean skin. “Tell me again. Say it again.”
“I love you.” She shuddered violently below me, her muscles gripping my flesh tightly. “I love you, Alex.” She squeezed me with her thighs as she came, and still I fucked her like a beast, amazing myself at being able to hold back through the pulsating sensation of her muscles. “Christ…I love you.” Her nails clenched into the skin of my shoulders when that strangled veneration escaped her.
Holy Mother of Christ. Sweet fucking Baby Jesus. Christ Almighty. Holy Lord. Mother of God. Told you I went to Church, haven’t I?
Her come increased the lewd noises, and I lost it. Burying my face against her neck, I reached out to entwine our fingers and pressed them to the floor as I began to pound consistently. Feeling her silky thighs along my body, my rhythm escalated until her loud gasps of pleasure filled my ears. With a final lurch forward, I stilled, and my seed rivered inside her. “I love you too, Elena.” I made softer thrusts as I flooded her with the last bits of semen. “I fucking loved you ever since I saw you with Sara.” My jaw slackened, pleasure-filled noises rumbling from my chest.
When I opened my eyes, her startled expression alarmed me. “Shit, baby girl, I’m so sorry,” I panted. “Are you all right?”
“Where’d you see me with Sara?”
Shit. Residual electricity started zinging in me from the heat of her voice, little shocks running through me like live wire. Only now my brain registered what I’d said. Fuck fuckity fuck fuck. Oh yeah, South Park watcher here. Except, that’s beside the point right now, isn’t it? The blunder-train had left the station.
Alexander Turner
The Saint Andrew’s Cross
By the time I used the word cunt a second time around, I’m sure the short-minded were looking for a besom to beat me to death with it. Well, listen to this; I loved that word, so fuck off. For the broad-minded, it’s a nice old word, isn’t it? Powerful in meaning, didn’t make a pretense, one of the honestest words that was right up there with fuck and damn, though it was the oldest of them all. Honesty is one hairy, cunty bitch, hence its unpopularity. Cunt was 12th century material, fuck was the runner-up with late 13th century, and damn came in last with 14th century. I did my research, told you so. Have I mentioned I loved writing stories? Loved language? Trains and people?
Let’s get back to the present: the grand slip-up scene. Don’t count your chickens just yet, I ain’t done here. See my red face, looking away from Elena? I wasn’t blushing, a dominant wouldn’t blush in his own playroom. A do-over wouldn’t cover it, so I was getting ready to lie. In any tongue, little white lies are necessary. Whether this was white or not didn’t matter, it had to be done this way. If Elena ever found out the truth, I’d be toast. I’d rather have my fingernails plucked out with pliers than lose her trust.
“When?” Elena’s stare turned flinty. “When was it?”
With a reedy voice, I capitulated, “Masquerade ball at Tony’s. That’s where I saw you for the first time.” I got to my feet. Unwilling to be done, and also to gain full control of the situation, I dragged her alongside me. My come was leaking onto the rug, briefly making me wonder if it would stain the late eighteenth century Aubusson masterpiece.
Elena managed to grab her dress and clutched it to her body. “We danced…it was you?”
I had a strong urge to make her feel sorry and beg me to love her. “Drop the dress and the fucking questions,” I ordered. I knew I was being
horrible, like a public spitter who’d hocked many loogies before spitting out a wad of phlegm that could spread a pandemic virus. Educated people don’t lie and spit in public, but you know what they say: shit happens.
“Was it you, Alex?”
Go for dominant, I thought. I wore it like a boss, making it smooth over my features. “Let it go. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
It worked. She let the dress fall to the floor and shut her mouth.
I couldn’t lie to her while looking at her. I faced her back and pressed her straight up against the cross. One at a time, I pulled her arms upward and snapped the leather manacles into place.
She winced. “It’s cold.”
I pulled the restraint on her left ankle snug. When I grabbed her right ankle, she lost her footing and dangled from her wrists as I attached it. “This,” I began with a murmur, “is going to be for me. I promise I’ll take care of you later.” Even when she got her footing back, most of her weight hung from her wrists. To eliminate the strain on her arms, I brought up the belt at her waist and drew the straps around her to safely secure her. “Tell me if it’s too tight. Are you hurting?”
“No, sir. Not at all.” I could hear her smile.
I positioned myself and pushed into her. With her thighs splayed and her inner folds slick, it was easy. “Good girl.” I kept both my hands on her hips and pressed my mouth against her cheek, right by her ear, and began to move earnestly. “How do you like this? Being chained to my cross?”
At first, she didn’t make a reply. The room was warm and calm and smelled of sex. No jingling of hardware, the exquisite woodwork had been delivered and installed by an exclusive fetish designer. The fucking though, wasn’t slow or sweet or gentle. It was brutal and hot. Felt fucking amazing to see Elena chained to such brilliant equipment. “Tell me if you need respite, baby.”
“Don’t stop,” she finally moaned.
