How many times had Victor taken me last night? I wasn’t sure. All I could remember was that after the first time in front of Yaron, it had been a roller coaster of shame and submission.
I hadn’t wanted to come so many times with someone who was treating me so cruelly. But my brain had gone fuzzy after the first three orgasms in front of the mirror, where he made me watch myself come. First, while he played with my pussy and then braced against the glass as he slow-fucked me to two more climaxes. I’d been unable to think clearly or hold onto enough shame to make myself stop.
Eventually, my climaxes had begun to meld together until it felt like I was in a trance. Last night, I could only care about the pleasure at the top of the shame roller coaster. It didn’t matter that it was a monster taking me over and over again, only how high he got me before I came plummeting down again.
This morning was a different story, though. I sat up on the edge of the bed, eager to get a shower in before I called off sick at work. But then, another memory from last night hit me like a truck.
Him pulling up the sheets and dragging me into the shower to wash all his jizz off my filthy body. He fucked me there, too. Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly come again, another orgasm began to build.
I sensed he didn’t mean to take me that time, and I wondered if he’d fallen into the same trance as me. Unable to stop, even though we both knew we should. The climax washed over me before I could reach the end of that thought trail. My pussy tightened around his cock as I came, and he sped up, driving into me, deeper and deeper.
I’d spent hours straightening my hair on Sunday with a flat iron set on low and tons of heat protectant to keep from frying my strands. He ruined all my hard work in that shower, and I couldn’t even bring myself to care.
I felt him begin to swell inside my pussy. We were both so exhausted. I thought maybe this time would be different. It wasn’t. He pulled out of me just like all the other times.
But then, he wrapped a hand around my neck, his malevolent gaze pinned on mine as he fisted his cock. He wasn’t choking me exactly, but he was gripping my throat tight as if he wanted to more than anything.
Maybe he did. Maybe that was his deepest wish. That he could end this. End us.
I wish I could say that thought had scared me. That he had scared me. But I’d been too far gone for that. I was so lost in the aftershocks of my millionth orgasm that I merely watched him watch me before his back hunched, and he gave me something else I had to wash off.
But some things can’t be washed off. Like the shame and confusion that enveloped me as soon as I woke up alone.
Though one reminder of Victor remained.
The ring I stowed away in my nightstand was now sitting on top of a piece of paper covered in Victor’s neat handwriting.
“Wear this every day,” the note read. “You will not like the consequences if you do not.”
I was too tired, emotionally and physically, to argue with his written words. I slipped on the ring for the first time in months, and it felt exactly as it did the first time.
It was a shackle. And Victor held the key.
So no, technically, I didn’t need a shower. But I took one anyway, also shampooed and condition my curls for good measure.
As the water washed over me, I tried not to think about what had happened last night.
Just go back to the life you made for yourself before he stopped by for his stupid visit, I told myself.
I’d cook and work out and bike everywhere, teach poor kids sign language, and better myself every day in every way. And, maybe he would stay away for another year. Maybe this time, he’d stay away forever.
My heart vibrated, not knowing how to feel about that.
But the main point was, May 26th could be a regular day, just like any other. The monster was gone now. I could go on living my best prison life, just as I had before.
After I called in sick to Young Souls, I decided to use the day to run all my errands. Even though I was still sore from last night, especially between the legs, I left the house with a plan to bike to the grocery store and get everything I’d need to make a pork adobo.
I wasn’t quite ready to face Yaron yet, so asking for a ride was out. But I knew we could probably both do with some Filipino comfort food in the wake of Victor’s visit. I also decided to replace that nice bottle of wine Victor had tossed instead of fishing it out of the kitchen trash. There was a boutique wine and cheese store just a couple blocks up from the Stop & Shop. Mmm, cheese!
As I walked out to the covered porch, I was already imagining myself later on in the day. I could just see myself: a fine bottle of Riesling, a cheese plate, and on TVs, the latest episode of His Majesty (yet another spin-off of Rap Stars Wives, this time starring one of the judges from American SuperStar and his blended family). But I stopped when I got outside. My bike was missing from its usual place where I always left it lying on its side after I came home. Had it gotten stolen?
No….
The memory of Victor all but tossing it into his trunk flashed across my memory. I cursed under my breath. It was probably still there.
Well, the only thing more excruciating than facing Yaron would be trying to get my bike back from Victor. So I guessed it was time to ask Yaron to drive me to the store to buy a new bike.
I minced out to the carport where the Audi was in its usual spot.
“Hey Yaron, need anything from Cal-Mart? I’ve got to go there to get a new…”
I trailed off when the window rolled down, revealing not Yaron but some tough looking Asian dude with a wispy mustache. His hair was gray, so he had to be a lot older than the driver I’d gotten to know over the past year. But he somehow looked way more dangerous than Yaron. His face was a dead blank, and he wore a simple black T-shirt, revealing two sleeves of tattoos.
Yaron wasn’t a 24/7 guard. That would be unreasonable. I knew somebody replaced him at night, but I’d never met that guard. Maybe this was him? Maybe Yaron had finally gotten that much deserved vacation he’d been talking about for months?
“Hey, where’s Yaron,” I asked the new guy, hoping that was true. “And who are you?”
“Yaron’s been reassigned,” the new guy answered, lighting a cigarette. “I’ll be your driver from now on.”
“Reassigned? Reassigned to where?” I asked, trying not to choke on the smoke he was blowing out.
He regarded me for a cold, bored beat before asking, “You said you want to go to Cal-Mart. Make me a list, and I’ll bring you back whatever you need.”
“This isn’t a list situation,” I answered, barely holding on to my patience. “I need to pick out a new bike.”
“No more bike,” the guard answered, his voice grumpy and short. “If you need to go somewhere, I’ll take you.”
Irritation and outrage rippled through me. “What if I want you to take me to get a bike so that I can take myself wherever I need to go?”
The guard blew out another careless plume of smoke. “So, are you getting me that list or what?”
He still hadn’t told me his name. And now I had the feeling that he wasn’t going to let me know. I rushed back into the house. Not just to make a list but also so he wouldn’t see me cry.
Losing my bike was bad enough, but Yaron too?
Maybe it was silly to shed tears over losing a guy who had only hung out with me because Victor was paying him. But he had been the only one in Rhode Island who knew my real situation. I’d considered him a friend. And now he was gone.