It's one of those days. I know it's one of those days. I can feel my blood thrum under the surface. I want you. I want you so damn badly but you're always so cool. So smug. So fucking self-assured. You expect me to submit to you, like I always do. You expect me to beg you to fuck me. To beg for every teasing touch. You expect me to beg for you to hurt me, the way I deserve, telling you what a whore I am. I should crawl on the floor expressing gratitude for the honour of your attention and afterwards, I should thank you for it. And I want to. God knows I want to. But not today. Today, on days like today, it's all about the line. Dancing the line. Playing that game. Showing you that I can play that game. Showing you that it doesn't matter how cruel you are, how smart you are, how sexy you are, because I can be just as nasty. It's that temporary madness, that desire to hurt you back.
"I believe I just gave you an instruction girl." Girl isn't in your usual vocabulary which means you are giving me a warning. You're watching me very carefully with that focused stare I usually find intimidating. I step backwards, sideways, out of range and I grin.
"Girl? Really?" I laugh, just a little "who says girl? Girl?!" And then serious again. "I do have a name." I start to manoeuvre myself towards the door but with two steps you position yourself between it and me. "And I expect you to use it."
It's that final line that settles it. A nervous thrill goes through me as you start to smile. Your twisted sense of humour loves this as much as I do.
"Of course," you say smoothly, as though testing out a new theory, "a name is really only something that you respond to. And you respond so well to so many don't you? Whore. Slut. Stupid. Pig. Worthless fucking piece of meat." The names hit me in the cunt, just like you knew they would but I refuse to let you see it, glaring at you with scornful eyes.
"Oh you do have a way with words," I say thick with sarcasm. "I can see that the ladies must be falling at your feet with charm like that." It's not the best comeback ever but your stance is unnerving me. Altogether too amused. Infuriating. And actually, I don't need to be too clever.
You smile shortly. "When they do fall it tends to be because they've tripped over you grovelling at my feet, where you belong." Your fingers dig into my arm as you drag me painfully closer to you and speak in my ear. "What is this about? Don't tell me my whore is developing a bit of backbone? Whole species evolve faster than you do."
Wrenching myself out of your grasp I spit "I'm not your whore."
"Really?" you say "In that case you'd better tell me whose whore you are because I owe somebody a lot of money." There is a flash of a moment where my irritation rises. Why do you always have to be so bloody unruffled? I need you to care more than this. I'm worth more than your indifference. Unthinking I lash out, slapping you around the face. Instantly I recoil, wide eyed. I never struck you before.
"Oh shit." I scramble to get away from you but you grab me pushing me hard against the wall. You look angry which only makes my cunt clench in betrayal. How do you do this to me? You raise your hand and I flinch automatically but you softly start to stroke my hair, pulling me gently towards you and you kiss me. I'm so surprised to find you kissing me that I respond and you become more intense, passionate, pushing my top up over my breasts making me moan. You start kissing my neck, a path of kisses up to my ear as your hands start to unbutton my jeans.
"Darling?" you say pushing them down to my ankles and then running your hands expertly over my half stripped body. You kiss me again on the mouth and I feel breathless as you pull away biting my lower lip gently and then start kissing my neck again. "Who makes you feel like this?" I moan in response to the onslaught of your hands on my body, voice in my ear and you twist my left nipple sharply, painfully to get my attention. "No really darling, who makes you feel like this?"
"You do," I breathe moving my hands to start to unbutton your jeans. Your hands immediately fly up to my throat, restricting my air flow and you push your body harder up against mine, against the wall.
"That's right," you say coldly "I do." Snapped out of the daze of my lust I can see that your face is still angry. You look seriously pissed and a jolt of fear rushes through me. "So what the fuck do you think you are doing?" I'm struggling to breathe and you spit on my face before releasing me and stepping back.
In my effort to simultaneously get my breath back and get some distance between us I forget about the jeans bunched around my ankles and I trip, sprawling across the floor at your feet. I look up in time to see the kick you aim but not soon enough to avoid the blow to my side. I try to shut out the pain, kicking off my jeans so that I can scramble to my feet as quickly as possible. Instantly, you knock me back as I try to rise and pin me down, your body weight making it impossible to move.
You look smugly amused as I struggle to move my arms, your hands digging into my wrists.
"What's the matter little whore?" you mock "Don't try to tell me your cunt isn't wet, I know it is. It doesn't matter what I do to you, you'll take anything and beg me for more. Won't you honey?" Your cool, blue eyes are laughing at me but actually I know I haven't lost yet. You're still playing the game and I know it.
"You're a fucking wanker," I say taking care to clearly stress each word. Your eyes narrow although you hold onto the mocking smile. Suddenly you jump up and grabbing me by the hair you drag me up and over to the mirror. I hate it when you pull me by the hair, I hate the sharp, wrenching needle pain on my scalp. You know it too. You push me up to the glass, the cold a smart shock to my skin and I try to pull away but the hand grasping my hair brings me back to where you want. I see my eyes in the mirror and hastily look down, away.
"Look at yourself," you snap "Say that again."
Inwardly I wince as I look up to see you glaring at me in the mirror. I try to turn around to face you but you don't allow me, shoving me back with your body weight. "Say it again," you repeat.
I know what you're doing. You think that if I can see my disrespect I will lose my resolve. That I will feel shame and self disgust. I'll meet my own gaze in the mirror and the realisation of the seriousness of my offence will hit me, my eyes will widen and I will start to plead with you for your forgiveness. And usually that would happen.
I thrust back with my elbow into your chest, pushing you back so I can turn around. There are so many ways you can stop this, I know because you've used them before. Any number of words, phrases, actions. It really must be like training a dog. But I don't want them to affect me. I don't want you to stop this. I want to make you passionate with anger, love, lust. I want your touch, rough all over me, scolding with hatred, love, desire.
"So," you say, as though disappointed. "You don't want to be my good girl today." You're just looking at me, with those eyes. My throat tightens and I know I need to shut down my ears. I can't listen to you when you do this. I'm weakening and I can't afford to lose this.
"No girl could be your good girl every day," I say, which isn't really what I mean, I'm getting this all wrong. I shake my head, physically trying to clear my confusion and you laugh.
"Darling, you struggle to be any good, at all. If it wasn't for the fact you are so desperate to degrade yourself I would have got rid of you long ago." You turn around and walk to the other side of the room to pick up a book and then you sit down on the double leather sofa, opening it to read. All I can feel is the empty space around me and I know what you are doing. I know what you are doing but I don't care.
"No, please," the words gasp out my mouth before I can think about it. I can't take you ignoring me. I take two rushing steps towards you before your words snap me still.
"Please what? What the fuck do you want now? You aren't in the mood to be good – fine, but don't expect me to be in the mood to pay attention to you."
