Raw

Fucked. That's what I had been. Rightfully and thoroughly fucked.

Saturday night, I awoke on my back in Brian's bed. I could barely move, but I wasn't complaining. The spot next to me was empty but still warm.

I smiled. We'd been having sex of some sort ever since we'd arrived after lunch.

Whether I'd been on the bed or the padded bench or his kinky creation. Whether he'd used his hands or his mouth or his cock. Whether it had been fast or slow or a combination of both. However he had done it, it had been pleasurable. And at the end of each scene, he'd brought me to release—albeit there had been times I thought he'd never get there.

He had pushed my boundaries. Not beyond what I could tolerate, but I had never experienced sex like he had shown me. It had scared me a little.

As I lay staring at the ceiling, I reflected on our time together. Although I had reached orgasm at some point within each of our scenes, he'd hinted that it wouldn't always be the case. I half wondered if I would be able to handle that when the time came.

Which made me think of something he'd said after he had completely exhausted me. After he'd carried me to the bathtub and tucked me into his bed, wrapped in his arms.

"You belong to me. Now we're playing by my rules."

Belonging? As a boyfriend/girlfriend kind of thing? Or did he imply something deeper?

And his rules? I knew I was to call him Sir while in this room; to trust him explicitly; to use the safe word if I wanted him to stop. What other rules were there? Did he have a limit? Was there nothing he wouldn't do to me? Did I not have a voice in what I would allow?

Even from the modicum of research I had done on BDSM relationships, I knew that couples should have safe words. But I understood that the word wasn't supposed to end the relationship, just the session because the dominant partner had crossed a line, whether it be a pain threshold, exhaustion, or simply a lack of comfortableness for the submissive partner.

But Brian had expressed that if I uttered our word, he was done with me.

After having experienced him for just a few hours, I knew this was a lifestyle I wanted to explore much more deeply. But because of his sometimes cold personality, I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue the exploration with him. To be turned away like a used toy if he did something I didn't like without discussing it first? That made me shiver again. And not in a good way.

The bedroom door opened. By instinct, I sat up and I lifted the sheet to cover my breasts.

"Good evening, Becca. Lower the sheet."

I obeyed. But deep inside, with just those few words, he'd made me feel like a child. And that irked me even more. "Good evening, Br— Sir."

I felt my cheeks grow hot. Was it always a scene in action once we were on this side of the threshold? Was there no "at ease" stance where we could just be two human beings with similar interests who'd just shared a mind-blowing sexual experience? That was what I'd longed for in a partner. What I had hoped I'd find by agreeing to come home with Brian. But now?

The door closed, and I heard his bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor. He sat beside me on the bed and laid his hand on the sheet still covering my knee. "Did you sleep well?"

I started to nod but stopped myself. "Yes, Sir."

"I didn't want to wake you too soon. Have you enjoyed our time together thus far?"

"Yes, Sir." My exhale came out shaky. I had so many questions. But did I dare ask them? Or would he turn me out? I had never agreed to 'belong' to him. I wanted to talk about it. I wanted—

He cupped my breast and stroked his thumb over my nipple.

A jolt ran through my body, and I flung my head back, moaning loudly. I saw him staring down at me, his eyes dark and shiny. I arched into his hand, wanting more of his touch. Despite my reservations, I couldn't resist him. He was a growing addiction. And I didn't care at the moment that he was dangerous for me. To me.

"So beautiful." He squeezed my breast almost painfully. His other hand fisted in my hair and yanked my head back as he and kissed me, swallowing my sharp gasp. His tongue flicked at my lips, my teeth, and then my own tongue. Both hands buried in my hair now, tilting my head this way and that.

Then I was falling sideways, his body following until he laid atop me. I moaned again, my hands twitching on the bed next to my body. I wanted to grip his arms so badly. To hold him close to me. My muscles burned as I forced myself to remain still, denying my natural instinct.

He'd spent the day touching me. I was not to touch him without his permission. And while I had held his cock when he'd given me instructions on how he liked to be pleasured with just my hands, I had wanted the more simple, intimate connection with him. But I had also wanted to comply with his rules, so I had obeyed.

Right now? I wanted to cry. Rules be damned, I wanted to—

"Put your hands on me, Becca," he said, his voice low and broken by his shallow breathing. "I want you to feel me. To know me as I've gotten to know you."

I choked back a sob, my heart lurching with joy. My hands shook as I lifted them to him. Until finally, the skin of his bare chest brushed against the pads of my fingertips. I gasped and brushed his skin again, harder this time, sliding further under the partially open ends of his shirt. Unbuttoning it the rest of the way. Pushing it back off his shoulders. Stroking there, increasing the pressure until I could feel the tight muscles under his skin.

He kissed me again, and I traced his neck, his spine, his shoulderblades, down his back. Then my fingers wandered back up to the soft waves of his hair. I tried to memorize him as if he would be leaving me for a very long time and I had to remember everything I could about him.

I have no idea how he did it, but I felt his cock against my thigh as he reached between us to pull the sheet away. Maybe he'd removed his pants before he sat down, or maybe I had been so lost in the moment that I hadn't realized he'd maneuvered his pants off while still kissing me. In any case, I parted my legs with a throaty moan and gripped the back of his shoulders.

He shifted. His cock grazed my thigh before it rested directly over my pussy.

I almost choked on his tongue as he kissed me harder. I lifted my hips up to his. I clutched him to me. Wrapped my legs around the back of his thighs. I whimpered against his mouth when my nipples touched the coarse hair on his chest, and I arched my back up more so I could rub against him.

He froze, his hands on my shoulders now. "Becca. Control yourself."

I immediately loosened my grip on him, collapsing to the bed. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"Look at me," he said at the same time as he sat back on his knees, spreading my legs wide around him.

I blinked and slowly dragged my eyes up his well-defined chest to the slight stubble on his chin and finally to those seriously deep blue eyes.

He rubbed something—presumably the tip of his cock by the width—against my clit. "I said you could put your hands on me. That was not a license to lose your inhibitions. There will be times I will allow you to indulge your personal desires. You will know it. This was not one of those times."

I groaned and clutched the sheet, closing my eyes. He immediately pulled away, making me gasp.

"Do you understand, Becca?"

"Yes, Sir."

"We talked about this earlier. You need to control your emotions. Listen to me. Follow my commands. When we are in this room, I am in control, not you. We will work on perfecting these rules. If I give you a little leeway, like touching me, you need to remain within those boundaries."

I bit my lip to silence the moan creeping up my throat as he rubbed against me once more.

"I know it is difficult for you to resist what your body wants. I know this is new and maybe strange for you. But you want it. Otherwise, you would have walked out that door without a second glance when I gave you the chance. You would have spoken the safe word long ago."

I rolled my head back and forth. Fuck. I so wanted him to slide his cock in deep with one hard thrust. I wanted to grip onto his arms again. To wrap my legs around him again as he claimed the deepest part of me. It was so hard not to. I feared I would shred his sheets with my fingernails if he kept this up.

I mouthed the word first, and then it slipped out in a breathless whisper. "Please."

"No, I think you need to learn a lesson." His hand rested on my pelvic bone, his thumb pressing between my lips to barely brush against my clit before his touch was gone.

"Please, Sir!"

His hand returned to my pussy, his thumb circling my clit again. "With time, you will learn to obey."

With that, he grabbed my arm and flipped me over onto my stomach. He dragged me to the edge of the bed until my legs hung off. My toes barely touched the floor. Then he thrust his cock into my pussy so hard and fast it made me cry out.

But my gratitude was bittersweet. We'd done this position before. I knew I would receive no release at this angle. It was my punishment.

I relented to muffling my cries, trying to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. He proceeded to fuck me roughly, holding my hands behind my back.

Eventually, he withdrew. I heard the snap of a condom being removed. His hand pressed against my ass, massaging it. After a few moments, I heard him grunt long and low and felt the warmth of his release on my lower back.

"Don't move."

A door opened and closed. I heard water running.

My arms lay numb at my sides. My fingers twitched again, and I had to force my hands to not move. To not slide underneath my body and rub my clit so I could come. I let out a shuddered breath, trying to suppress the need to cry as I felt my vaginal muscles spasming.

I stared at the armoire, the doors closed now. Probably locked. The bedside lamp was on, the black shade and red bulb casting a dull glow onto the otherwise bare surface of the table. I was just considering if I could try to mentally force myself to orgasm when he returned.

He laid a warm washcloth on my backside and slowly wiped at my skin. When he was done, he scooped up my legs and turned me properly onto the bed so that my head rested on a pillow again, facing away from him.

The bed shifted. I closed my eyes and whimpered as his body pressed up against me from behind. It was warm and slightly damp. I would have expected a lover to invite me into the shower with him if he had felt the need to wash the sweat away. Instead, he treated me as if I were dirty and he needed to be cleansed of me.

He wrapped his arms around me, hugging me until his legs fitted against the curve mine naturally made as I attempted to curl into myself. One hand caressed my arms. The other brushed my hair back from my forehead over and over again. His face nuzzled the back of my neck.

Was this the same, cold man who had just denied me an orgasm because I'd touched him with more than my hands? The man who had barely said a dozen words between picking me up this morning and bringing me to his place after lunch? The man who had spent the day screwing me, turning me inside out with pleasure, yet had not really shown me who he was?

He was a shell. A fucking empty shell. Literally.

And while the sex had been great, I wanted more. I wanted to be submissive. But I wanted him to be emotional. To show he actually cared about me. That I wasn't just another partner to him. And if I continued with this, would it always be like this? This disconnected feeling, at least in the bedroom? Would he be different outside that door? Or would he still be the closed-off professional he made himself appear to be?

Of all the questions running through my head, I chose one that would at least give me an idea what I was working with. I just wasn't sure how to word it. How he would react. But I had to try.

"Sir? May I speak freely?"

"Yes, Becca. Please do."

"How many...Am I..."

"Ahh, yes, that question." I imagined him smiling as I felt him press his mouth against my hair. "I am not seeing anyone else right now. I haven't in quite a long time. I am picky with the women I see. That I bring here. And no, there haven't been many."

I relaxed a little. "May I ask what made you think I would want to do this?"

"A very valid question indeed." He was silent for a moment, but his hands still soothed my back. "It was something in the way you answered my questions during the interview. How you liked to be chased. That's a very primal quality of a submissive, even if most won't admit it. They have this desire to be wanted. And the chase...that's a major way of showing he wants her. The ultimate goal is to be caught. To feel worthy of being chased in the first place."

I half-wished he'd stop touching me. While it felt nice, I couldn't think, and the fact that I hadn't had a release after he'd built me up only complicated matters. I was frustrated. Horny. Which made me more than a little pissed off.

"Is there anything else you want to ask me?"

I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer to my next question, but he was giving me an opportunity. It was do-or-die time. "Can I ask what you meant when you said I belonged to you?"

He pulled me closer, and I felt his cock press up against the curves of my ass. My pussy clenched, and I bit back a moan. I was tempted to wiggle backwards, hoping he'd slide inside. I couldn't be that lucky, though, so I pushed the thought away.

"You will have sex with no other man. You will see no other man. Your body is mine and mine alone as long as we are together. How long that is will depend on your obedience and desire to remain. I will draw up a contract once we've discussed it more, but for now, we'll consider it an indefinite, verbal agreement."

I gulped. Contract?

"I will train you to use all of my toys. It may take time, but we have plenty of that. When I think you're ready, I will collar you. You can continue your writing career if you so choose. I will arrange for you to have an office here so you can work but are also available to me twenty-four-seven. Eventually, you will obey me without even thinking about it. It will come naturally."

Oh shit. I opened my mouth to speak, but he pressed two fingers inside, stopping me.

"I am free to do with you what I please. Whether it be using your mouth..." He stroked his fingers a couple of times against my tongue before pulling them free. Suddenly, they brushed against my clit. I could not stop the moan this time. "Your pussy..."

I moaned even louder when his fingers easily pushed up inside me.

His touch slid back and rubbed against my anus, pressing slightly for entry as he whispered, "Or your—"

"Blue!" I yelled, yanking myself away from his grasp and scrambling out the other side of the bed. I whipped around, my hair flying around me in a tangled mess. It matched my temper. "Dammit! Blue!"

Brian sat upright, his eyes narrowed slits, his mouth turned down into a grimace. When he spoke, it came out a low growl of disapproval. "Becca. Consider what you are doing. What you are giving up."

"I am not fucking Anastasia Steele, and you are not fucking Christian Grey, so get off your fucking power trip!" I scooped up my dress and pulled it over my head.

"I don't know—"

"Don't even try it! You know very well what I'm referring to." I found one shoe and looked around for the other. Brian didn't get out of bed, but his eyes had widened, almost as if he were bewildered. Wonders would never cease. The man could show emotion. I stooped to look under the nightstand, trying to keep an eye on him as well. "I did not sign up for do-it-yourself 'Fifty Shades.' I am a person with feelings and rights."

"I see. Can we talk about this?"

"No, it's your rule. Remember? I use the safe word and you take me back to my hotel, never to see me again? If you rather, I can call a cab. I have no problem with that."

"I never thought you would use it." His voice was quieter and very honest. He really had no clue.

I hopped on one foot, trying to put my second shoe on. Footwear back in place, I clutched my underwear, stockings, and garter belt in one hand. "Are you fucking serious? You expected me to just go along with you dictating my life without a say so? You don't even know me. You never once asked me what I wanted. Besides being chased, that is. Or staying eight hours ago. What if I don't want to be your live-in sex slave? What if I want to touch you and have you make love to me for once rather than just fucking my brains out? What if I don't want you touching my ass?"

"I see." He sat back against the headboard. "We can discuss this. Outline your hard limits in our contract. It really is what you want. You just have to be open to learning."

I took deep breath. "There will be no fucking contract. Thank you for the introduction to the lifestyle, Mr. Hughes. I may want to be submissive, but that doesn't mean I want to lose my identity. Goodbye."

I slammed the door behind me. I wanted to stop and catch my breath, but I was afraid he'd try to follow me. Even more afraid that I would reconsider if he tried any harder to convince me to stay. I clambered down the steps, grabbed my purse off the table, and tugged on the door handle. I cursed under my breath when it didn't budge. I forgot he had locked it.

I heard the door open at the top of the stairs as I unlatched the deadbolt. I didn't look back. I just walked through the door and closed it behind me. Then I began to walk down the street towards where I saw traffic. I had no idea where I was, but we had passed a strip of stores not far from the row of brownstones on our ride over earlier today.

I half expected Brian to run out after me. To insist we go back to his place and talk about this like two mature adults in private. And when he didn't, I started crying. I wasn't sure if it was from the relief to be away from him or the disappointment that he wasn't chasing me.

I didn't want what he was offering. I would not become the physical embodiment of a spineless girl in a lame sex story, no matter how popular it had been on the bestseller list and how thousands of women claimed to want exactly what I could have if I turned around. But reality did not follow the story. It never did, it never would.

As I walked, my steps slowed. A very big part of me did feel like a used toy. What had been mysterious and sexy earlier today now seemed almost garish when it was finished. It was like I had been living a daydream and someone had shaken me awake. Told me I had to get up and go back to my life.

Was this eccentric lifestyle something I really wanted to embrace so I could explore this side of myself? What would tomorrow bring? Would he try to contact me again? What would I say if he did? Would our encounter alter his article on my books? Would he out me for who I really was? Or would he hold himself to his professional standards when society called for it?

I was still processing my thoughts when I came upon an open coffee shop. I hugged my articles to my body, hiding them behind my meager existence of a purse, and slinked to the bathroom at the back. Washing my face, I finished dressing and made myself presentable.

At the main counter, I ordered a caramel latte and a cinnamon scone. The girl took my money and gave me a soft smile when I asked if she could call me a cab. Then I sat to wait for my ride.

Why did I feel so...lonely? I couldn't help remembering what it had been like to have Brian lying next to me. To have him touching me. His cock inside of me. Every position I'd been in flashed through my eyes. The pleasure he'd brought me. The experiences I'd never though possible.

I thought of his contraption. My gut twisted deliciously as I remembered how it had felt to be strapped down on my stomach while he fucked me from behind. While he spanked me with a leather riding crop. While he fingered my pussy until I was screaming his name.