Long Road to Ruin Ch. 02

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I stepped out of the shower. The face that stared back at me was pale, with dark circles under its eyes, haunted. I smiled an ironic grin, and decided I didn’t feel like putting on a face to greet the faces that I met. I felt haunted, so I was going with it. I pulled my hair into a French twist, and went to retrieve my coffee.

I pulled on a black turtle neck sweater, and a black pencil skirt, finishing the look with a pair of black stilettos. Grabbing THE 48 LAWS OF POWER from beside my bed, I stuffed it in my mailbag, and marched off to meet the bus. The ride to work was relatively short, but I could usually get a chapter in on the way. Today I stared at the printed words, and thought of him. Odd, random moments we had shared…laughing while making dinner with him, walking along the river discussing philosophy, arguing about the nature of time, watching him tuck his insulin syringe behind his ear and walk into a busy restaurant…I would concentrate on a paragraph, and find myself smiling, at an utter loss to reiterate a word of what I had read.

I was the first one in the office, and made a strong pot of coffee before heading to my desk. I had three new e-mails each informing me that my co-workers would not be in for one reason or another. A quiet Friday was good. It meant I could get some things done. I emailed them back letting them know I would hold down the fort.

I opened the catalog project that I was working on, but it did not take long before he crept into my mind again. Cutting and pasting pictures of fluffy pillows, and clean white linen next to descriptions of blissful sleep called up the picture of him next to me in my bed, staring idly at the ceiling and humming tunelessly, pulling me closer in a distracted embrace as he started singing flatly “we’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl…” Then he kissed me and said “Pink Floyd was bahis firmaları never the same after Sid Barret left…” and drifted off to sleep. That had been the first of many times he had managed to do the perfect thing. That was the problem, he was able to say and do the perfect thing, to make me forgive him or make me insane.

I smiled wryly at the memory. “Lost souls” we were. That was the weekend he had found my toy box. “What’s this?” he asked pulling out my bullwhip.

“It’s a bullwhip. I bought it one of the Dakota’s when I drove through.” I said. “The trick is to go to real tack shops, not the specialty stores: better product and a lower price.” I grinned.

He looked at it thoughtfully for a minute, turning his attention to me, his eyes glinted evilly, “I’ve never whipped anyone before,” he said.

“And you still won’t have” I replied, going to collect it.


He caught me on the upper thigh. “MOTHER! FUCKER!” I spat at him.


The second caught me on the hip.

He laughed. “You should see the look on your face.”

“Yeah?” I seethed at him, rubbing the welt he’d left. “I’m always on the other side of it.”

“Not anymore.” He stated calmly, and let the whip fly again, but I caught it, and wrapped it around my wrist. We played tug of war for a minute before he pulled me towards him and used my hair to force me to my knees. “Suck my cock.” He ordered evenly.

“No.” I responded looking up at him, seething.

“Did you just tell me ‘No’,” he queried?

“No. You don’t get your cock sucked for whipping me.” I repeated.

“Oh…” he smiled slightly, “I understand. You don’t like being whipped.”

“Exactly,” I lied.

Calling my bluff, he used my hair to pull me to standing, and threw me onto the bed. I tried to move away, but he caught me and pinned my wrists above kaçak iddaa my head with one hand, using the other to pull down my cut offs. He ran two fingers along my soaked pussy. Bringing his fingers to his nose he smelled them, and said “You lied to me.” I shook my head no, he stuck his fingers roughly in my mouth, I sucked them, and he pulled them out. “Never say “no” to me again. Do you understand?” He said as he delivered a slap to my face. “Now get on your knees and suck my cock.”

With the memory of that weekend, I found myself shifting uncomfortably in my seat, and realized that I was not going to get as much work done as I expected today. I stood up, and walked into the break room, more as a distraction than for another cup of coffee, and then I paced back to my desk feeling more than a little angry and frustrated. He’d been gone from my life for more than six months and I was at a loss to explain why it was now I couldn’t get him out of my mind. I stared blankly at my computer screen, the realization of why I was so tense slowly dawning on me.

Furious at myself, that even in his absence he could control me sexually, I stood up, stalked down the hall to the bathroom, and locked myself in a stall. Leaning against the door, I lifted my skirt and slid my panties down around my knees. Conjuring my favorite memory, the one that never failed to get me off quickly, I stroked my clit.

One summer evening after dinner, we were sitting together on his porch, sipping vodka and lemonade, just talking about nothing and everything, as we often did. We wandered onto the topic of past relationships, and he mused about how happy I must be to have found him.

I looked at him curiously, “Why?”

“Well, I sure wish I could have multiple orgasms,” he replied with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

I wrinkled my brow, and then the gist of that comment dawned kaçak bahis on me. I smiled and leveled my gaze at him “You don’t think you are the first man I’ve had multiple orgasms with do you?”

He shifted, uncomfortable under my gaze, and averted his eyes, betraying this had indeed been his belief. In spite of knowing it was a mistake, I burst out in a full on belly laugh. He kept his composure, barely, but his eyes seethed. Only they betrayed his anger, tipping me off that there were to be consequences later.

That night I entered the bedroom, and in one swift serpentine movement his arm circled my neck, my face pressed against the rough plaster of the wall. He leaned in; his breath on the back of my neck sent frissons up my spine. There was a moment of anticipation, before he whispered darkly in my ear “I am going to fuck you in the ass, don’t struggle because it is going to happen no matter what.” With his words, I felt the paralyzing heat spread from the pit of my stomach to my sex. His free hand pulled my hips towards him, and he thrust his cock roughly into my asshole. There was a moment of pain, and I tried to seek escape through the wall, but he held me firmly in place. “Stop! I’m going to fuck you, and you are going to beg me to let you cum,” he growled, and I stopped struggling. He removed his arm from around my neck, holding my hips with both hands he pulled me hard onto his cock. He began fucking me deeply, slowly. I felt my body betray me, and soon I was fucking him back, begging him for more.

I worked my clit hard at the memory of me begging him to make me cum, hoping no one from the other offices would walk in now because I was too far gone to stop. The thought of him pulling my hair and calling me his cum slut, telling me to beg, to beg for my orgasm pushed me too the edge, and I let out a low moan as I came.

I stood breathless for a second in the stall before I was able to pull up my panties and smooth my skirt. Leaving the stall, I stood at the mirror studying my flushed face for a moment, before splashing water on it and returning to my desk.

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