Every day I went into work, I couldn't help but feel nervous. I saw the office entirely differently now. I would take the long way to the bathroom because the fastest path went by where she was.
Since that original day, we would text a lot. The next morning I had woken up to multiple messages telling me that I was to report to work as usual and would continue to work there. I honestly wanted to quit but I feared what she would do to me. She continued to flex her dominance over me from there. In the morning, during the day, and into the afternoons and sometimes deep into the night, I would receive texts from her. Sometimes she would even call me. Our conversations would range from the incredibly boring talk of the weather to her going over the events of that night again. It had now been a few weeks and thankfully my butt was alright but she made sure that while the physical damage had gone away, the mental damage lingered. She would tell me about how I squealed and cried while being whipped and that she had the photos still.
Once, I think she masturbated on the phone. She had been making weird groaning sounds and moaning and breathing heavily while she commented on my cute "crying babyface." Admittedly, it gave me a boner. A guilty boner.
Weeks had gone by now though and I still wondered what the hell she wanted from me. Was it over? I felt like we were in some sort of fucked up quasi-relationship. I hadn't had many girlfriends but this felt like a relationship because we talked constantly, even over the phone, and she seemed genuinely interested in my life. She made fun of me constantly and the age difference was quite large but when she wasn't re-describing how she had beaten me the situation seemed okay. Maybe I was brainwashing myself because I felt like I was slowly convincing myself that this was a good situation; I had this beautiful woman who seemed to be obsessed with me. Yet that same beautiful woman had shown intense cruelty and seemingly got off on it.
I was confused.
And the confusion continued when Friday night she texted me at work. She made it clear I was always to respond to her even during work hours so I picked up my phone and unlocked it. It was a few messages.
-You told me already you had no plans for tonight except for your computer games. Tonight, you're going to come over to my house. I want you to go home first though and take a shower and pretty yourself up. Wear something nice and fancy-
The next message included her address and expected time. 8 PM. Oh god, the anxiety ran through my body immediately. I already had planning-anxiety where I hated when new plans suddenly popped up on me. I needed a day to prepare to do really ANYTHING. The anxiety was quadrupled by the fact that this was Abby inviting me over. A beautiful fearless woman who could have any man she wanted. She was in her 40s but any guy would count themselves lucky if she even looked at them. Then finally, there was the fact that this was my abuser...
Excitement also went through me. Why was she inviting me over? I had to dress up? Was she intending to make this some sort of date?
I wasn't sure but as soon as 5PM hit, I wrapped up what I was doing and sped on home. I wasn't exactly sure what to wear. I quickly took a shower and used body wash, shampoo and conditioner, and my facial scrubber. I shaved the little hairs that grew on my cheek since I was still incapable of connecting most of my facial hair. While still naked, I applied body lotion. I jogged a lot and as it got colder my skin was drying up bad so moisturizer and lotion everywhere was a requirement.
I threw on a nice thick navy-blue long-sleeved turtle neck shirt. My soft comfortable underwear with a pizza design on it. Khaki pants. Black belt and black socks. A nice pair of leather business shoes I had actually gotten specifically for this job but had only worn once since they allowed you to wear anything. I then sprayed some cologne on myself and felt good. I was a bit excited to dress up and head out. I wanted to please her. I wondered if that desire to please was from wanting to make her happy or wanting to not be hit. Or both.
I got into my car and drove over to the address she mentioned. But first I stopped at a quick liquor store to grab a bottle of wine. I made sure to go to a different liquor store than the one near my home. I was slightly embarrassed to be picking up a bottle of wine on a Friday night while wearing this outfit.
She was in a small town over. Definitely a nicer and richer neighborhood. She was the manager of our loan department and I'm sure she was paid nicely because of it. I stopped before her street however as it was 7:55 PM and I wanted to arrive exactly on time. I waited a minute or two and then finally pulled into her driveway. I proceeded to knock on her front door from there. Awkwardly swaying back and forth and looking at the dark street. I wondered if I looked weird.
The door suddenly opened and there she was.
Her height matched mine at 5'11. She stood in the doorway smiling at me. She had on a satin bluish blouse on. The first few buttons left undone which probably made it so that her breasts shivered as the cold air came in. Her blouse tucked into somewhat tight black slacks that had a nice gold button at her crotch. She had on a beautiful diamond necklace and a nice thin watch. She was barefoot. Her hair was pulled back at the moment into a beautiful bun and her blouse was rolled up. She was cooking something.
I felt like a cartoon character. I was staring with my mouth wide open. I then slammed it shut and stammered.
"H-hi Abby,"
I presented her the bottle of wine. It was a completely random bottle of Rose that was $30. I had taken the $30 tag off though.
"Perfect," she glanced at her watch, "right on time. Good boy. And bringing a bottle of wine, good manners."
She took the bottle from my hand and walked into the kitchen.
Looking into her house, from the left of the front door there was a rug staircase going up to the 2nd floor. The room I was staring into was the living room. On my right was the couch and a big flat screen TV on the furthest right wall. Directly in front of me was the hallway that went left to right. I couldn't see what was to the left on the hallway but to the right was the kitchen. The kitchen and living room were separated by a wall; the wall had a large open window in the middle of it that allowed someone to see into the kitchen or vice versa.
She had disappeared a bit as she was deeper in the kitchen but soon appeared in that window area between the living room and kitchen.
"Come on in and close the door already! It's cold out there. Make sure you take off your shoes. You can sit on the couch,"
I quickly closed the door, maybe slamming it a bit too hard but thankfully she said nothing. I sat down on the couch and just sat there twiddling my thumbs. I would look up through the big hole in the wall and see her cooking and occasionally washing something. I offered to help and she said I was sweet but that she wanted me to stay in the living room. It smelled like alfredo.
Eventually, I heard her signal that she was finished. I didn't want to say anything though so I sat there staring at the blank dead TV. I wanted to pull my phone out but worried she may say something. I heard her walk from the kitchen into the living room and her hands landed on my shoulders. I felt her breath on my ear.
"It's okay. You can relax for now. We're just having some dinner." She spoke in an alluring and sultry way. I nodded my head and thanked her and stood up. I followed her into the kitchen. What did she mean for now?
I was right and it did end up being alfredo spaghetti with some fresh baked garlic bread. She opened up that bottle of wine in a way that only someone who drinks a lot of wine could. I struggle to use a wine opener and always forget how it works but she had it popped open in mere moments.
The food was delicious and the wine was alright. I hope she found it to be pleasing. I thanked her again for the meal as we ate. I felt it only best to continue to thank her for the food. I needed to be on my best behavior. After all, I was in her home. We made light conversation. We discussed work and my current metrics with the loans I processed. She told me I was doing a good job and I couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly happy about that. I'd be lying if I hadn't begun to try even harder at work after my mistake of being a creep.
