Page 9 of Depraved Lust
“Hush, kitten,” he says as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against his chest. “I understand, I do.” He rubs my back gently and it calms me. I lean into his touch, loving the warmth. It’s been so fucking long since I’ve been held. Once I went into hiding, I was always alone in that house. It’s made me weak.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I want you to enjoy this, and I don’t want you to be sad. But I don’t want you to push me either. Not unless you want to be punished.” I bury my head deeper into his chest, trying to resist how everything he’s saying is making me want to play. This isn’t pretend though. There'll be no stopping this once it’s started, and that terrifies me. But as much as I’d like to tell myself it hasn’t started, I know it already has. And I’m playing into his hands.
The realization sobers me. I slowly back away and get back into a submissive position, although my eyes aren’t on him at all. I stare at the floor and try to gather some kind of composure. I quickly wipe the tears away and chance a look at him as he sits back on the chair. He looks uncertain. It’s an expression I haven’t seen on him before.
It makes me fucking terrified. He’s quick to adjust the look on his face.
“Come,” he says with a firm resolve. He pats his left leg. “Let’s try this again.” He waits patiently as I stand and sit awkwardly on his lap. His left arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me closer to him. Even though he’s so tall compared to me, his head is nearly level with mine with us seated like this. He rests his left hand in my lap, dangerously close to my pussy. My nightgown has ridden up some and I feel exceptionally vulnerable. I’m stiff on his lap, and I can’t relax with his hand where it is.
He waits a moment before saying or doing anything. It’s awkward as fuck.
“You need to relax.” He dips his finger into the sauce and brings it to my lips. He stares into my eyes rather than giving me the command. I do as he wants and open my mouth. He slips his finger past my lips. His eyes are drawn to my mouth as I gently suck his finger clean. When he pulls his finger away, he gives me a satisfied look.
“Good kitten.” He puts another piece of the tuna tartare to my lips, and I accept it. Seeing his approval eases something in me. I know so long as he’s pleased, I’m safe with him. And so far, pleasing him is simple, but I don’t know what other terms he has.
On the next bite, I find myself leaning into his fingers. He tsks and pulls the piece away from me. My heart rate speeds up until I realize what I’ve done to upset him. I swallow and sit back on my heels, exactly the way I was positioned before. His left hand runs along the thin fabric of my nightgown, just above my clit. “Good job, kitten.” My pussy spasms around nothing. I close my eyes, hating how my body is betraying me. My nipples are hard, and the light brush of the fabric against them only turns me on even more. Other than his hand edging closer and closer to my pussy, he shows no signs of his own arousal.
“Eat until you’re full.” He grabs another piece, and we continue like this. Each time he feeds me his fingers brush a little closer to my throbbing clit, until finally his deft fingers are massaging small circles over my clit. I’m soaked for him and primed for him to fuck me. And I fucking hate it. He’s playing me and using my body against me.
He leans into my neck and whispers with his lips barely touching the shell of my ear, “I knew you’d like this. You just need to admit that you want it.”
I’m not sure what angers me more--that I’ve allowed myself to be such easy prey for him, or that he’s right. I want him to fuck me, and I fucking hate him for it. But I’m not going to let him reduce me to nothing but a whore.
I push away from him and kick the plate off his lap while I fall to the floor. The dish smashes on the ground as I fall backward.
He rises quickly, somewhat bracing my fall. The anger washing off of him is so strong that I scoot backward on my ass without even realizing at first. My heart races in my chest, and my blood rushes in my ears. Fear consumes me.
Making Anthony angry is something I shouldn’t do. I know this as a truth, but I pissed him off anyway. I was going to play along. Why couldn’t I just do what I needed to?
I expect him to hit me, or to grab me like he did earlier for my outburst. Inwardly I’m cursing myself for not just going along with this. But I can’t. I’m more than that.
I anticipate his aggression. He doesn’t get violent. Instead, he turns his back on me.
“I’m disappointed in you, kitten,” he says as he carefully picks up several pieces of thick porcelain. He’s slow to pick them up, and for a moment I imagine myself grabbing a single piece, the one closest to me. But I don’t. I’m frozen with fear. After a moment of him cleaning up the mess I made, he looks me in the eyes as he picks up the last shard.
He turns to the door with an expression of discontent and that’s when I realize he’s leaving me.
My racing heart tries to leap from my chest. I can’t be left here. I need to get out. “Please don’t leave me here!” I scream and beg. I didn’t want to, but I have to try. I don’t want him to leave me here alone. I can’t sit here with nothing. No plan, no hope, fucking nothing.
“I’m sorry, kitten,” he says as he turns his back on me. “Tonight training will begin. It’s best that you put this rebellion behind you. You won’t enjoy being punished.”
Tonight? How fucking long will I have to wait in this room alone?
“I have a life! Please just let me go!” I feel weak and hate what I’ve become.
“I know you do, kitten. And I would provide for you in every way you need.”
“I want my life back!” I don’t want to be his version of a pampered pet. I want my job and my friends. I worked hard to create this new life for myself, and I want it back. I don’t want it torn from me.
He turns back to me with anger sparking in his eyes. It's enough to make me retreat until my back hits the wall. He strides toward me with a dark aura surrounding him.
“You want an office? You want to go online so you can work? Do you want your books, kitten?” I stare at him, not knowing what to say.
“I told you to answer me when I ask you a question,” he says with barely contained anger.
“Yes. Yes, that’s what I want.” I answer him in a strangled voice I don’t recognize.
He smirks at me, and that expression is completely at odds with the aggression choking the air between us. “You would've had all of that, if only you'd behaved.” I stare at him with disbelief as he makes his way back to the door.
