by Sophia Vice
“Did you like it?” His thumbs roll circles into the junctures between my neck and shoulders, and I moan.
“Do I need to answer that?”
He chuckles. “I guess not. Is it something you’re interested in doing more of?”
I shift in the tub to look at him, leery. “I don’t know. Are you talking about a whips and chains kind of a thing?” I sit up suddenly, and a little water sloshes over the side of the tub. “Wait, do you have, like, a dungeon or something in this house?”
Adam laughs, and the full-throated sound of it sends warm tingles down my spine. “No, no. Where did you get that idea?”
I shrug, blushing. I don’t really want to cop to my erotica reading habits.
Adam is still chuckling, but he lets it slide. “No, I don’t have a dungeon. Although, some people in the community do. I guess I’m less serious about it in that sense, but I make up for it in other ways.”
I swallow. “What ‘community’ are you talking about?” I think I already have an idea, but I want to hear him say it.
Adam resumes massaging my shoulders. “The BDSM community.” His voice is low.
I turn to look at him. He meets my gaze evenly. A secret thrill runs through me, and it’s a heady mix of desire and nervousness at the unknown—of what else Adam might be capable of doing to me. It’s a world I had always fantasized about in the privacy of my own erotic imagination. When I touch myself, I like to think about pirate abductions or a Victorian husband taking his wife over his knee because she didn’t clean something. I had never asked any of my college flings to spank me or tie me up because I was embarrassed, and because I have the vague notion that it might make me a bad feminist. I worried about what my college friends would think if someone somehow found out.
I guess it doesn’t really matter what other people think now that I’m not in college, and have alienated myself from most of my friends.
Adam is staring at me, trying to gauge my reaction, and I try to play it cool. “BDSM. Right.”
He chuckles at my response. “Aren’t you curious?”
I nod. “But it feels like opening up pandora’s box.”
“Are you scared?” His fingers pinch the muscles in the nape of my neck, and it feels good, but it also feels possessive. My nipples harden in the water as a hot chord of desire sings through my body.
“Of you? Maybe.”
His fingers release me, and he comes to kneel by the side of the tub so that we are face to face. “Kyle. It’s true that there are a lot of men, especially in BDSM, who might take advantage of someone new to this kind of kink. But I promise that I would never truly hurt you.” He takes one of my hands, lifting it out of the water so that he can hold it against him. Water stains his shirt. “At least,” he continues, his eyes full of conviction, “not in any way that would last, and if something is pushing your limits, you can always tell me. It’s okay to be scared—that heightens the experience sometimes. But I would never want you to feel truly threatened. I’ve wanted you for a long time, and I’m not about to fuck it up.” His thumb brushes the back of my hand.
He’s wanted me for a long time?
“For the record,” I reply after a beat, “I wasn’t worried that you would hurt me. I trust you. I’m just nervous.”
He smiles. “It’s okay to be nervous. Just trust me to take care of what you need.”
I scan his face. “You’re talking about this like it might be an ongoing thing.” I hope it will be, I think desperately, briefly reliving the intensity of the pleasure I felt earlier.
“I would like that.” He echoes my thoughts, but his brow furrows.
Something about his expression tells me that it isn’t as simple as that. “But?”
He sighs. “I don’t really do casual dating. It took me a long time to come to terms with what I want in a relationship, and sexually.” I tuck my chin in, blushing, and he smiles. “Since I know what I want, I don’t like to waste time on dating to feel out whether a woman would want the unique kind of relationship I’m looking for. Ninety-nine percent of them would turn me down anyway.” He smiles sheepishly.
“Why ninety-nine percent? You’re not”—my eyes scan his devilishly handsome face and muscle-bound body—“unattractive,” I finally finish, the descriptor miles from the words that would actually suit him: god, male model, or masculine perfection.
Adam grins. “Thank you, but that isn’t why. Most women can’t handle what I want.”
I tilt my head, perplexed. “You already said that you aren’t into anything extreme. Are you saying that all of these women are running scared because of the kinky stuff? The, uh”—for some reason it’s hard for me to say—“spanking?”
His eyes light up with amusement at my discomfort, but his expression sobers when he considers his response. “What I want goes beyond that.”
I wait for him to elaborate.
“I don’t just like to be in control in the bedroom; I like to be in control twenty-four-seven. I get tremendous pleasure from dictating how my romantic partners live—how you behave, how you go through your day, how you dress—the works.”
I blanch. “Like a…a sex slave? You want me to be a sex slave?” Horror and disappointment washes through me. I stare at him, waiting and hoping for him to deny it.
Adam chooses his words carefully. “Not exactly. You would still have your own life. A job, friends, all of that. I like my partners to be fulfilled and lead their own lives.” He clears his throat. “But I like to be consulted on everything, and to dictate other things.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Like what?”
He shrugs. “Obviously, I would expect you to be obedient to me sexually.” Wicked, forbidden desire burns through me at his words, and I see his eyes drop down to my breasts as my nipples harden despite the hot water lapping at them.
“And, like I said, how you dress, how you behave when you are with me publicly or privately, amongst other things. I would have a say in most of the details of your life. Hopefully, I could help you get things turned around—get you back in school, whatever you wanted.”
I stand up from the tub, and water streams down from my body. I clench my fists as I try not to cry again. The possibility of starting a relationship with Adam had been like a beacon in the darkness my life has become, and now that possibility is turning to dust. Of course, I think, of course the guy that I idolized is some kind of controlling sex freak. Nothing else in my life is allowed to go right, so why did I think this would be any different?
“Sorry,” I say sourly, “but I don’t think what you’re imagining is for me, either.” Having a man control every detail of my life is probably how most therapists define fucked-up, and I’m not about to add a messed up relationship to my list of mental health and life concerns. I have enough problems without entering into some kind of sanctioned misogyny.
“Will you at least think about it?” Adam looks up at me from his sitting position, and the open friendliness and desire for me I see mixed there makes my stomach flip. His features are so handsome and distracting that it’s hard not to agree to anything he says.
“No,” I sigh, “it’s not for me. I, um, had a nice time tonight, but I think we should end it here. I hope it isn’t uncomfortable if we see each other again through my brother or something.”
“Okay. I’ll respect your boundaries, Kyle, but if you change your mind, I hope you’ll call me. What have you got to lose? I can help you get your life together. I can help you to be everything you can be.”
I flush as a spark of rage breathes to life inside of me. “Oh? You want me to be your sugar baby, is that it? You’ll pay me to be your sex slave? Pay my school tuition?”
He spreads his hands out over his thighs, and I suddenly imagine that he would show this kind of careful restraint when negotiating in a boardroom. “Firstly, as I said, you would not be a slave. You would be obedient to me, yes, but you would be free to live your own life. You could always turn me down for sex, b
ut not for punishments.”
My mouth falls open a little at his nerve to suggest he could punish me whenever he wants like an errant kid, but at the same time forbidden desire runs through me. I feel my thighs become slicker with my own moisture even as hot rivulets of water from the bath continue to trace pathways along my pinked skin.
“However,” Adam continues smoothly, “I might give you gifts and treat you to things, like any lover. If you lived here, I would not expect you to pay rent. But otherwise, no, I would not be paying you, or paying your tuition. You couldn’t live off of the pleasure of being my girlfriend.”
Another thrill runs through me at the word girlfriend, but I ignore it, mentally chastising myself for being so easily affected. “You’ve really given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” I comment archly.
He shrugs, completely unashamed. His eyes flicker over my exposed body, still wet from the tub, and my skin comes alive as if he’s touched me. “I’ve had a few years to contemplate what I’d like to do with you,” he replies, voice low. “So yes, I suppose you could say that I’ve given it a lot of thought.” His eyes rise to meet mine, their grey depths darkened with desire. “What about you, Kyle? Have you ever thought about me? Maybe when you’re alone, in bed?”
I flush a deep, deep red. How does he know? I open my mouth to deliver a rebuff, but I’m struck dumb, unable to deny it.
He smiles, his mouth curving in purely masculine satisfaction. “I thought as much. I remember how you used to look at me when you lived at your brother’s apartment. You would try to avoid me because you didn’t want to give yourself away, but it was obvious. You always blushed so beautifully. Do you know how much I wanted to push you up against a wall and fuck you? How much I wanted to bend you over a kitchen counter and spank your untouched, innocent bottom? To hear your sweet voice cry out?”
By the end of his speech I’m breathing so hard I’m practically panting, my nipples hard and my folds soaking. I have the wild impulse to touch myself, knowing I could come in seconds because I’m so turned on, but I don’t.
Adam sighs, running a hand through his hair. The unkempt look suits him even more than the polished one, the strands falling over his grey eyes, and I’m devastated as he rises to his feet and offers me a towel. This handsome man could have been mine. Too bad he’s a sexual deviant.
“Take your time. Your clothes are in the bedroom.”
He leaves and I quickly get dressed, my mind a scrambled mess. The pleasure he wrought upon my body earlier is still affecting me, and I don’t have the energy to think too much about Adam’s out-there proposition. I just want to sleep.
Glancing at his king-size luxury bed, I have the brief, errant thought that it would be nice to curl up with Adam and sleep with my head laying on his broad chest.
I shut that flight of fancy down quickly, before my heart can get any heavier from disappointment.
When I’m dressed I meet Adam, who is standing silently at the door. He helps me put my jacket back on, like a gentleman, and even that casual touch heats my blood. I don’t know how I can make decisions when every time he looks at me or touches me I lose my head.
Before I can go, Adam reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a card. “This is my personal cell,” he says, handing me the card. “I hope you will call me. Even if you don’t want…what we talked about earlier, I can still be a friend to you. Let me know if you ever need anything.” He pauses, his cool eyes on mine. “Or if you change your mind.”
I bite my lip as I pocket the card, unsure what to say. I end up just nodding mutely, blushing as I open the door and leave. I’ve never been attracted to anyone like I’m attracted to Adam—and he definitely tempts me.
Too bad he’s a control freak.
5
Kyle
My eyes are crusted shut when I wake up the next morning, and I groan. My head is pounding with a pulsing headache. I definitely, definitely am regretting hitting that bottle of whiskey. After I got home last night I found that my mind was spinning too much to find sleep, so I had posted up on the sofa and watched Netflix while I drank myself into a soft oblivion.
Now I’m tithing for that oblivion with a body that hates me. My stomach roils as I toss my duvet back and get to my feet. I accidentally unsettle a mountain of clothes that were on the bed, and they fall to the ground where there are already dirty pairs of underwear and actual trash laying around.
I groan. I really need to clean this place up. The whole apartment looks like a disaster zone: empty liquor bottles and dirty dishes occupy every surface. Every day I plan on cleaning it, but when it comes down to it I find myself eating Cheetos and drinking cheap white wine while shopping online—even though I almost never actually buy anything, since I’m basically broke.
I pad over to the bathroom and splash water on my face. My sad reflection stares back at me, dripping with water. My face is thicker than it used to be because of the weight I’ve put on, and my brown hair is frizzy and unkempt. I haven’t had it cut in years. Looking at myself, I can’t see what Adam finds appealing.
Having him admit his desire for me last night was like taking a heady drug designed to boost self-confidence. For the first time in forever, I had felt sexy. I had felt desired.
For a moment I consider what it would be like to be his…girlfriend? Girlfriend/slave? I don’t know what to call it.
I wouldn’t mind the bedroom parts of it at all. If it was anything like last night, I would love it. It’s unfair that I didn’t get to see his body. My mouth goes dry as I fantasize about what he has underneath those nice clothes he always wears.
No, no, no. Get your mind out of the gutter. He is off limits.
I grimace at myself in the mirror. I have no self-control at all when it comes to Adam and my over-active imagination. He was right, last night, when he asked if I ever thought about him. I happen to think about him, and more specifically parts of him, more than I would like to cop to.
I run a hand through my ragged hair. I need to get Adam out of my mind. Even though sex with him and the other kinky stuff would be hot, I can’t have some type-A trying to control every element of my life. I’m an independent woman, and I’m not about to go back a few centuries and have a caveman control me.
With a huff, I turn on the shower. Later I’ll text Shauna. She can always distract me.
Shauna and I are tucked into an alcove in a cozy coffee shop—one that isn’t part of the dumb franchise I worked at with Shauna up until yesterday. I sip on a sugary caramel-latte, still mentally grousing over its seven-dollar price tag.
Shauna is staring at me, her pretty eyes huge in her face. “So he wants you to be like a … a sex slave?” she stage-whispers loudly.
“Not so loud,” I murmur, sparing a glance around us. Thankfully, no one is within earshot. I turn back to look at Shauna, who looks both thrilled and scandalized. “Kind of. He claims I would still live my own life, but that he would just get to boss me around a lot.” I narrow my eyes at her. “And I think that you are enjoying this too much.”
Shauna smiles like the cat that caught the canary. “I love juicy gossip,” she admits shamelessly.
My mouth drops open. “Shauna! You cannot tell anyone about this! No one, do you understand? I would die!”
She waves her hands in front of her face defensively. “I won’t! I won’t! That doesn’t mean that I can’t enjoy it at your expense. It is juicy.” She licks her lips dramatically. “I bet he’s juicy too. I’d like to taste him.”
I punch her lightly in the shoulder. “Shauna!”
She laughs. “So he wants to boss you around in the bedroom and spank you or whatever. What’s the big deal? I’ve done that with tons of boyfriends. It doesn’t mean he’s a bad person or anything. He’s just kinky. Don’t you think you’re being a little uptight about this?”
I shake my head. “He doesn’t just want to boss me around in the bedroom. He wants to boss me around all the time. Like decide what I wear, and
stuff like that.”
Shauna takes a long sip of her coffee and purses her lips. “Yeah,” she finally admits, “that is a little more intense than the run of the mill kinky stuff, I guess. But so what? I’m sure he has good taste. Maybe it would be hot, knowing he picked out stuff he thought was sexy.”
I sigh. “It’s more than that. I don’t really get it myself, exactly, but he wants to be … he wants to weigh in on everything in my life. Like what I’m doing in my free time, how I act … everything.”
Shauna’s eyebrows rise. “Wow.” Then a new understanding dawns in her eyes. “Wait. Does he want to pay you to do all of this? Like he wants to dress you up and teach you manners like you’re the hooker in Pretty Woman and take you to charity galas or something? That sounds like you would be his sugar baby.”
I nod vigorously. “Right? That’s what I told him!” I’m glad someone can see it from my point of view. “It’s demeaning.”
Shauna shrugs. “Jaclyn was a sugar baby for like two years.”
I stare at her. “Jacyln, the RA from our dorm?”
Shana looks at me conspiratorially as she takes another sip of her coffee. She is such a gossip. “The very same. She used the money to pay for college,” she finally says. “She didn’t seem to be ashamed of it, but she didn’t advertise it or anything. The guy basically had her as arm candy for all of his events and he bought her nice clothes and took her out to dinner. It didn’t sound so bad. Plus, this guy was like fifty, but Adam is... Adam.” She grins.
I chuckle. “You’re unbelievable. Adam claims it wouldn’t be like that. He says he might give me gifts, like any boyfriend, but he wouldn’t be paying me.”
“Okay,” Shauna spreads her hands out against the wood grain of the table. “So you won’t need to feel dirty about what you’re doing. So what if he dresses you up and showers you with gifts? Maybe he just wants to order you around to make him bacon sometimes in the morning or do his laundry or something. Wouldn’t it be worth it to get the chance to jump his bones?” A smile tugs at her lips. “Then, once you’ve had him, you can always call it quits if the whole Mr. Controlling thing gets old.”
