Page 20 of Deviant Illusions

Using my first two fingers, I slowly pull her lips apart. The tips of the gloves shine as I spit down on her needy little clit. Her sounds are smaller, weaker, but the gag stops them from being muted. My eyes close as though I’m bowing my head in prayer as I lower to run the flat of my tongue through her slit.

Her thighs twitch as I trace a circle around her entrance, but she doesn’t open her eyes. Her cheek is still resting against the pillow, and I gently lift her hands with my thumbs flat against her palms. The black latex contrasts against her pale skin and the bruise is getting darker.

Peace washes over me as I thread our fingers together. This is everything that I need. Her cunt is on my tongue and her hands are in mine.

She murmurs as I push my tongue inside her. It’s garbled due to her tongue being unable to move. I moan into her. She still tastes like perfection, as if no time has passed and I’ve snuck into her room to repay the favor of her waking me up with her mouth.

The mask stops me feeling her fully against my face, but she soaks the material. I’m going to have her stuck with me when I leave, so I push my face harder between her thighs to get more. My movements are slow to prevent her being disturbed, and I use the point of my tongue to trace a line to her clit. The murmuring gets louder, but not enough for Delilah to wake, so I continue toying with her clit.

I have to let go of her hands to lift the silk off her body. My gloved hands glide up her stomach until I wrap my fingers around her tit. I can’t leave a mark on her, yet. And when she’s like this, I don’t want to cause her pain. She’s not lying or in need of fear, she’s peaceful and comforting. Like this, she’s my Delilah, my pretty girl, again. Kissing a path up her body, I watchher lashes, waiting for a flutter. For anything to push me over the edge and out of limbo.

But she doesn’t.

She doesn’t open her eyes, and I can’t look away from her as I wrap my lips around her nipple. I start slow, gentle, and massage her pebbled peak with the flat of my tongue as I push my middle finger into her tight cunt.

“H-mhmm,” she softly gasps, and I smile against her.

I play the little piano protégé like my own instrument. The murmured moans get faster when I lightly suck and push another finger inside her.

They vibrate through her chest as I scrape my teeth against her nipple and curl my fingers up. Her thighs twitch and tense, urging me to go faster, to give her more.

So, I do.

I give in to her.

Like fucking always.

Pulling my dick free, I line up at her entrance and watch her face. “Open your eyes, koukla mou.”

Her eyes move under her closed lids, but they don’t open. She lets out a small noise in protest when I don’t move. I know every fantasy she has, every deviant desire that makes her heart race, and I don’t want to be a tool for her to have satisfaction. Not again. So, I gently tap her cheek to test her wakefulness. There’s no response other than a small murmur. I do it again, harder this time. When she doesn’t wake up, I slowly push inside of her as I taunt, “I won’t allow you to remember this, or tell you exactly how it felt. Not this time or ever again.”

9

DELILAH

My jaw aches and there’s something dried against my cheek. It pulls at my skin as I massage across my jawline and peel my dry eyes open. The room is bathed in light, but nothing is out of place. The sheets are perfectly straight, and I remain on my back as I do a visual sweep from the window to the door, searching for any evidence of Kane.

I’ll never admit it to him, but I miss the companionship he offered. I miss someone knowing me and not being alone. But there’s nothing on the floor, no boot marks in the rug, or anything else to suggest he was here.

There’s a hard patch on the pillow as I deflate and turn on my side. I swipe at my face when it touches me. I don’t drool but I clearly did last night, considering there’s dried spit on my fucking pillow. That’s disgusting.

That thought is quickly forgotten at the sight of the rose on my nightstand. It’s not plush petals or scented. It’s better because it was made with my sheet music, and he was here. Only one person ever made me anything, especially something personal, and I don’t blink in fear of it disappearing.

There are no scraps of paper on the floor, so he had to have made it before he broke in. Why does it make me feel better to know that’s how he spends his free time? It shouldn’t, because that’s a fucking crazy thing to think. Yet, it does.

Kane still thinks about me, and he doesn’t hate me as much as he says he does. If he did, he wouldn’t give me the rose. The boy I loved is still there deep down inside of him, since he started making them because he didn’t want a symbol for how he feels about me to die.

The tightness in my jaw stops me from being able to fully admire the rose. I sit up like that could possibly help it. The sheet slips down, and I kick it off my feet, but something rustles. Slowly tilting my head, I lift the sheets to find frilly socks on my feet. Frilly socks that I don’t fucking own. I don’t know what his obsession is with them, but it’s weird as fuck.

What’s weirder is that he isn’t here. He’s supposed to be here so that I can find out what his problem is and beat him at his own game. Instead, he’s leaving me alone. The first twenty-four hours were busy due to Kane taking over my thoughts. I had something to focus on, but now I’m back to my terrifyingly lonely existence.

Flopping back against the bed, I close my eyes with the horrible realization that I’m fucked. I have no job, no savings, fucking nothing. I don’t even have a life, just a pointless existence that will never lead anywhere. As per my old routine, tears burn the back of my eyes, and I don’t fight them.

The only positive of Kane’s deception was that it kept me occupied. I wasn’t living to go to a shitty job and making deals with myself to try to live. I was more at home in his lies than the truth of my own life.

The first step of not giving a fuck about him involves having my own life. He can suck shit and ruin me himself. I refuse to allow my mind to do all the hard work for him.

And to have a life, I need money.

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