Page 36 of Devoured
A jolt of electric pleasure burst through me and there was nothing, absolutely nothing that I could do to stop it.
“That’s it!” Roland yelled. “Let go, Iris. Let it all go. Show me what a stupid whore you are.”
And I came, rubbing myself, grinding into the Sybian like an animal in heat, and loving it, hating it, hating Roland, hating myself, and falling deeper into an oblivion I would never be able to crawl out of, because there was no escape. There was no Iris, the unstoppable domme anymore. Only this. Only the girl who kneeled down before Roland’s feet. Who fucked herself as she lost everything. As she lost herself. The girl who realized that pleasure was an inescapable void, one that could destroy everything.
***
By the time the orgasm finished its course, leaving me panting and covered in sweat, Roland helped me up, placing me on a thick bean bag chair in another corner of the room, a piece of furniture I hadn’t noticed in the heat of the moment. He wrapped a blanket around me, placing a cold bottle of water to the side, not letting the plastic material touch my bare skin.
Who the hell was this man? To mess with me to no end. To take my money,my life, and then give me a bottle of water like that made it all better? I sat up, opening my mouth to give him hell, but he cut me off.
“The transfer has been blocked,” he said. “I’d love to spend it on blow and whores, but I’ve got enough blow, and,” he winked, that playful smile back on his lips, “I’ve got my hands full with you.”
“Don’t degrade me like that. We’re not fucking anymore. I’m not a whore,” I said. The response was almost automatic now, defending the club’s rules that had long been forgotten.
“Sex worker,” he corrected. He tilted his head. “My whore in the bedroom. And a sex worker outside of it.”
“Fine,” I said. I was too tired to argue anymore.
“You don’t have to be ashamed of being a sex worker. It’s a legitimate job, you know.”
“I’m not,” I hissed.
“Good.”
That response pissed me off even more, making energy surge inside of me. The prick had the nerve to explain to me how I should feel.
“I don’t need you to mansplain sex work to me. You’re the one who doesn’t want to be affiliated with a sex club.”
The smile faded from his face. “You’re right,” he said. “Feel how you want to feel about sex work. I’m not a sex worker, and I have no place telling you how to feel about it.” A small twinge of guilt poked through me. He wasn’t supposed to admit that he was wrong. Still, I didn’t respond, waiting for him to finish. “You truly are amazing, Iris,” he said. He reached over and squeezed my hand. “I had fun.”
I waited, bracing myself for that cocky response, saying that he knew I had enjoyed it too, but he didn’t say anything else. Then he turned to leave.
“That’s it?” I asked. “You’re leaving?”
“I don’t take you to be the kind to want to cuddle, but I can,” he smirked, “if that’s what you want.”
I cringed in disgust. Though I admit, a small part of me wouldn’t have been completely against it. The whole experience made me vulnerable, and I was used to his touch by now. Maybe I even craved it.
“I expect you’ll take the rest of the night off?” he asked.
“As long as the boss lets me,” I muttered.
“Take as much time as you’d like. But be ready early tomorrow morning.” He twirled his finger in a circle beside him, as if to mimic the plans he had for us. “We’ve got quite the commute if we’re going to make our appointment.”
He walked out the door, leaving me alone. Alone with my confusion. With my racing thoughts. I had given him my whole self. Lost complete control. Wanted nothing more than to come. To please him.
And he didn’t even come. It was all me.
What the hell was Roland doing to me?
