Fortuna Victis

The doorbell rang at exactly half past seven. A sinking feeling ran through her as she lifted herself from the couch and made her way to the door. She knew all too well who was waiting on the other side, and what he was here for.

True to his word, he had texted her several times since their last encounter. Ever the gentleman, his conversation had been light and easy. But he was more playful now. More willing to push her buttons and tease out a response. She could almost see the smug smile lurking behind his texts.

It was to be expected. Really, she wouldn't have been surprised to see him appearing on her doorstep the very next morning to claim his prize. But no. He had enough tact to wait an entire fortnight before more or less inviting himself to dinner.

Not for the first time, she wondered why she hadn't just turned him down. Sent him packing and washed her hands of the whole affair. He would've been quite the catch, but one couldn't expect to win them all. And there was wisdom in knowing when to cut one's losses and call it quits. There were plenty of men out there, clamouring for the gift of her favour.

It wasn't too late. She still had time. She could still lock and bolt the door, retreat into her apartment and turn off all the lights. Refuse to even acknowledge the man waiting outside, claw back a bit of control over her life. It was tempting. Very tempting. But she knew that it was pointless. She knew that somehow, it would feel even more humiliating, running away like that. No, she would face him, and face the inevitable. She still had her pride.

Knowing that didn't make it any easier.

With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and opened the door.

There he was, standing on her doorstep. As well dressed as always, wearing that all too familiar smile. Just like last time, a bouquet of flowers was cradled in his arms.

Jasmines, if she wasn't mistaken. Was that supposed to some kind of a joke?

'Good evening, my dear,' he said as he handed her the flowers. 'You look beautiful tonight.'

She pouted.

Of course she was beautiful. It wasn't just vanity speaking. It was objectively, undeniably true. But she certainly wasn't feeling it. Seeing him in his perfectly pressed suit, she felt painfully underdressed. This wasn't at all how she would have chosen to present herself.

But, he had been very clear in his instructions. Don't dress up. Nothing fancy, just keep it simple, my dear. She had thought long and hard about it. Considered dressing herself to the nines in rebellion. Rub the full force of her glamour in his smug face. Or better, take things a step further than last time and answer the door completely naked.

That

would get a reaction. In the end, she thought better of it. He didn't seem the type to take too kindly to dissent, and after the previous fiasco, she wasn't too sure how much she could tease him.

Even with her mind settled, figuring out what to wear hadn't been easy. Everything she owned was geared towards the fabulous. Even her usual silk kimono had been specifically chosen to make a statement, and her loungewear did more to accentuate her charms than to hide it. Just like a love struck teen, she had spent all day fretting, before finally settling on the hoodie and tracksuit pants she wore when doing the less appealing housework tasks.

Was that what tonight would be? Housework?

She shuddered.

She didn't say a word as he stepped into her apartment. He was already making his way to the dining room. She couldn't help but notice, as she quickly scampered after him, how confident his stride was. Not quite the march of a conqueror, but the easy gait of a man who knew that he would be getting what he wanted.

As he took off his jacket and draped it over the back of one of her dining chairs, she imagined how he would look, naked and with a steak knife protruding from that deceptively vulnerably neck. A silly thought, but one that brought her a small degree of comfort.

Dinner tonight was a simple affair. Nothing fancy, he had said. So she just cooked something that she'd normally be having on a quiet evening. It wasn't much more difficult, making pan seared salmon and quinoa with creamed spinach for two instead of one. A spark of pride flared up inside her as they sat down. The meal might be simple, but she was still an excellent cook. Tonight might be his victory parade, but that wouldn't stop her from eating well.

They ate in silence. She didn't dare look up from her plate, knowing that he'd be wearing that easy, smug, overbearing, self-satisfied smile.

'That was lovely, my dear. You certainly are a gifted chef.'

Her heart skipped a beat as she finally looked up at him. The smile was much gentler than she'd been expecting. It wasn't like she'd been trying to impress him. In fact, she had deliberately gone out of her way not to try to impress him. And yet, the obvious joy in his smile was hard to deny. It felt good, knowing that she had given him that joy.

She quickly pushed that feeling aside.

'I'm glad you liked it,' she finally managed.

He let out a long sigh and leaned back into his chair. She didn't think that she'd ever seen him so relaxed.

'There was quite a lot to like. And, I'm sure, quite a lot more to like as well.'

She swallowed. Despite the meal, her throat felt unbearably dry. A predatory glint was rising in his eyes. He wasn't even bothering to hide it anymore. She did her best to not let her fear show as she tried to meet his gaze.

'Oh?'

'Indeed. I'm looking forward to enjoying your company for the rest of the evening. In fact, I'd like to start enjoying you as soon as possible. Unless you'd like a moment to rest first?'

She blinked. No. She wouldn't give in just yet...

'I'm not sure I follow.'

'Come now... A lovely young lady like yourself only ever invites a gentleman into her home for one reason, no? Whenever you're ready, my dear, lead the way.'

'Lead you where?'

His grin widened, revealing a row of evenly spaced teeth.

'Surely you have a bedroom? I know that you're an eager girl, but the dining table is hardly appropriate. And this is already my third visit, my dear. I shall be rather put out, should I be treated to another night on the couch.'

She could feel the heat rising into her cheeks, as beads of cold sweat formed in the small of her back.

'It isn't nice to tease.'

'On the contrary. I intend to be very nice to you, at least for the time being. But no. No teasing. Shall we, then? I shan't ask again.'

She could hear the hard edge creeping into his voice. And as much as she hated to admit it, she knew what that hard edge could do to her. What he could do to her, if he wanted. So far, he was still being nice. So far.

Best not to push him, she thought. At least, not yet.

And, she wryly admitted to herself, if their positions had been reversed, if she had gotten her way, she would be tormenting him for all she was worth. That was what she had done to all the others who had sought and won her favour. It was a disquieting experience, to be on the receiving end. An experience which, along with the heat rising through her, wasn't entirely unpleasant...

She rose from the table, making a show of tidying up the plates. Making a lot more noise than was strictly necessary. He waited deferentially, relaxing back into his lazy smile. Only rising to his feet after she had finished, waving a casual hand for her to lead the way. She could feel his eyes on the back of her neck as he walked behind her, each step feeling like it brought her closer and closer to her own execution.

One last pause, as she stood in front of her bedroom door. One last deep breath, one final moment when she was hers and hers along. And afterwards...

She opened the door.

She knew that he would be looking around. Trying to see what he could learn from the space she most intimately called her own. It wouldn't be much. She kept her bedroom fairly simple. Luxurious and comfortable, yes, but in a quiet and understated way. Nothing particularly showy or ostentatious. The idea, after all, was to draw attention towards her, rather than to distract anyone fortunate enough to make it this far.

What would he be thinking?

It irked her, how much that seemed to worry her. Things were usually so different... Every other time, the opening of her bedroom had been an invitation, an invocation, a display of the fortune that was about to be bestowed. But now, with him standing there... she hadn't felt this nervous since she was sixteen, still coming into her own and unsure of the power she held.

Where was that power now?

She could feel it, radiating from that unbearably smug smile that she just knew was floating somewhere behind her. All his. No, not yet. It was silly, at this point. She knew it. And she knew that he knew that she knew it. But it couldn't be helped. As she turned to face him, to invite him to take that final step into what was hers, the old pride was flaring up. He may have won, but she was not defeated. Not yet. Not yet.

His smile broadened as he stepped into her bedroom nodding approvingly.

'Very tasteful. I must admit, not what I was expecting. But in a way, it does suit you. And now...'

He turned, bringing the full force of his smile down on her.

'...I trust you know what happens next?'

She smiled sheepishly. Slowly nodded her head. Perhaps, there was still a chance. Perhaps...

'Well then, my dear... Strip.'

The hard edge of his voice slammed against her. She could feel the familiar power as it flashed along her spine, primal and unrelenting, touching some ancient instinct of fear and caution. She knew, without a doubt, that he wasn't messing around. He wanted her naked, and her body rushed to obey. No preliminaries. No song and dance. Only the desperate need to do his bidding.

She tugged down her tracksuit pants, her hands moving to remove her hoodie almost as soon as they hit the floor. Just as she was clawing at her bra, his voice stopped her in her tracks.

'Oh? What's this?'

Her hands slowly fell to her sides as she looked towards him. He was frowning, staring at her as if he wasn't quite sure what he was seeing. A sinking feeling ran through her. It couldn't be... was there something that displeased him? It was impossible. She was perfect in every conceivable way, every curve of her body perfectly toned and sculpted. She had spent hours making sure that nothing was out of place, that everything would be ready for him, that she was beautiful, and desirable, and...

And then it hit her. He wasn't staring at her body. His gaze was fixed on her bra, the lovely green lace that suited her so well, that perfectly matched her panties, that was so sexy, so glamorous, so fancy, so... not simple.

'It's just... I...' she stammered, 'my underwear is all like... if you just give me...'

'I thought,' he said, 'that I had given fairly clear instructions.'

Without noticing, her hands were slowly creeping together, held protectively in front of her crotch. His eyes were burning through her. She didn't dare look any higher than his feet. The silence stretched out unbearably.

'Well?'

'I... I always... I thought... a girl just wants to look beautiful, and...'

'My dear, you are always beautiful, no matter what you're wearing, or even if you're wearing nothing at all. I would've thought that you'd know that, and not feel the need for such silly games.'

She slowly lifted her eyes. Despite the disappointment in his voice, he was still smiling. She tried to smile back. Found that she couldn't, not without the burning tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

'Now, instructions are instructions, my dear. And we really must sort out this rebellious tendency of yours. So.'

The smile hardened.

'On the bed. Face down.'

She threw herself onto the bed, burying her face into the pillow. Trying to find some sense of comfort in the familiar feel of the sheets against her skin. Wishing she could just sink through them and disappear. She could feel the heat of his gaze burning across her body. And, to her shame, a similar heat rising up inside her.

She gasped as something touched the small of her back. A finger, brushing along the length of her spine, slowly tracing upwards. A pause. And then, a gentle pressure as more fingers joined in, slowly wrapping themselves around her neck. Not quite hard enough to be unpleasant. But firm, firm enough for the message to make it through to every cell in her body.

He could, if he wanted to.

And she would let him.

In fact...

The hand lifted away from her neck. A sudden release of pressure, as the same hand deftly unhooked her bra. And then, another gentle, electrifying stroke along her back.

'Take off your panties, my dear. Then put your hands behind your back.'

She moved quickly to obey, hooking her thumbs into the band of her panties. It was awkward, lifting her hips as she pulled her knees beneath her, wriggling around as she tugged them down to her thighs, her calves, her ankles, and finally past her feet. The motion left her high and exposed. Vulnerable. Open. Did he enjoy seeing her like that? With her head buried in the pillow and her bottom lifted high? Did he want her to stay that way?

A firm pressure slowly pushed her hips back down onto the bed. She straightened her legs out beneath her, tucked her arms behind her back. The hand made its way lower, and lower. Patted first one cheek, and then the other, as it spread her thighs apart. Probing. Teasing. And then, when she thought that she couldn't take any more, penetrating, finding no resistance.

A moan escaped her lips.

He chuckled.

He worked patiently, taking his time with her. Slowly, with one finger, with two, he stroked the crease of her sex, sometimes entering into her, sometimes withdrawing, but always, always, pulling on every nerve in her body, probing at every fibre of her being. She bit down on her pillow. But even then there was no stopping the moans from coming, rumbling through her belly and up her throat and out from behind tightly clenched teeth.

He worked away, sending fire lancing through her with every touch, lifting her higher and higher, until she could take no more, until her hips shook uncontrollably and her breath came out in ragged gasps, until only one last push was needed, until...

Nothing.

'No no no no no... please... please...'

She winced as he lightly patted her bottom. She writhed beneath his touch, trying desperately to find his hand, to find release, relief, anything...

'Now, now,' he laughed. 'None of that.'

'You said... you said...' she stammered between breaths, 'You said, you wouldn't tease...'

'Vae victis, my dear. I had planned on being nice, but since you seem to have such an aversion to following instructions, I thought a little punishment was in order. And one isn't supposed to enjoy a punishment, no?'

She could feel the tears wetting her pillow. The memory of her first humiliation came crashing down on her. There wasn't anything she could do now, but whimper softly into the sheets.

'Very good. Then, we shall begin.'

She had no idea how long he held her. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. At first, she tried to keep count, focusing on her breathing as he played with her body, bringing her to the edge and leaving her teetering there. At first, she tried to keep silent, biting down on her lips to stop the moans from coming out, trying to maintain some sense of dignity, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had complete control over her.

Only at first.

Try as she might, there was no resisting him. He seemed to know her body too well, seemed to know exactly where to touch her, seemed to know exactly when to push and when to hold back. She could only hope that he would make a tiny mistake, that he would push a little too hard, linger a little too long, to tip her over the edge and into sweet, sweet relief...

But he wasn't making any mistakes. He held her perfectly balanced, revelling in his control and in her frustration. Even through the fog, she could hear him chuckling every time he pulled away, leaving her writing on the bed, panting raggedly into the pillow, every muscle tensed, begging, unable to take any more.

She knew what he wanted. She knew what she needed to do for this exquisite torture to end. She knew that he was only waiting for her, smiling that smug smile, waiting to claim his final and greatest victory.

She would not give it to him.

She would not be defeated.

She would hold on to herself, no matter what.

And then he touched her again, and everything receded into the fog of pleasure. And then he stopped, and it all became too much, and she knew that she would do anything, anything at all, for him to keep going.

She screwed her eyes tightly shut. Tried to find a break in the moans that he was pulling out of her, just enough to give voice to a tiny, inaudible whimper...

'...please...'

He chuckled.

She gasped as she felt his touch at the small of her back, squirmed as a single finger began tracing its way up her spine.

'What was that, my dear? You'll have to speak up.'

'...please... please... please, please, please...'

'Please what, my dear?'

This was it. Her last chance. Past this, there would be no going back. Her body was screaming at her. She had to resist.

The finger slowly traced its way back down, stopping frustratingly short.

Something insider her finally gave way.

She pulled her face from the pillow. Took a deep breath and filled her lungs, paused only a moment to steady herself.

'Please fuck me!'

He chuckled again. A low, unpleasant chuckle, that made the sweat streaming across her body run cold.

'My, my. Aren't you an eager girl. Foul mouthed, as well. But, since you insist...'

The pressure on her back lifted. Slowly, she opened her eyes, struggled to roll over onto her back. She couldn't manage to pull herself into a sitting position, her head falling back onto the pillow. There he was, smiling down at her. He took a few steps back, and began methodically unbuttoning his shirt, deliberately taking his time, slowly revealing a trim physique, not particularly muscular or heavyset, but rippling with power.

He was far from the best physical specimen she had seen. She didn't care. She hardly noticed. All she saw as he slowly undressed was his stunningly erect member, yearning for it, wanting it more than anything she had ever wanted before.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he lowered himself onto the bed. With unexpected tenderness, he placed himself before her and parted her thighs.

'Now then. Let's see if we can't turn your vae into fortuna, no?'

He found no resistance as he entered her.

She had expected him to be rough, even brutal in his conquest. But he took his time, exploring her body with his hands and lips as he rhythmically found his way inside her. After all his teasing, she couldn't hold on any longer. Almost as soon as she felt him pushing in she climaxed, reaching up and wrapping her arms and legs around him, feeling the comforting warmth of his weight pressing down on her.

Gently, he kept up his movements, allowing her to ride through the wave of pleasure, letting her down softly as her muscles gave way and she collapsed back onto the bed, her thighs twitching as she struggled to catch her breath. He paused, planting a single kiss on her neck.

But he was far from finished.

The second time, he was much less gentle.

He grabbed her hips as she bucked against him, pinning her down. She screamed out in ecstasy, but he didn't relent, forcing her upwards towards climax, pushing her over the edge and far beyond as he drove himself into her.

The third time, they arrived together. She had lost all sense of time and space, everything swallowed up by the intensity of the pleasure that he was giving her. Only his hot breath on her skin tethered her as she floated away into a sea of pure feeling. As she felt him tensing inside her, his lips clamped down on hers, their breath mingling and mixing into a moment that lasted an eternity, a second that seemed to stretch on forever, as everything faded away, and she slid further and further down into the darkness...