Grigori
I ignore the soft sighs and sniffling as we walk down the hall. It's clear she's upset, and based on the timing, it's because of the ropes. Though I want nothing more than to pull her into me and demand she tell me what's bothering her, I leave her be. She needs to learn to open up to me on her own. I can't keep forcing her. As long as he's not disrespecting me, I won't push, pry, or punish. The soft tinkling of the bells brings a smile to my lips. I need to dress her in them more often.
The exit to the wall panel looms up above, the soft, blue light piercing into the darkness. I take a moment to look at Chelsea, noting the wetness shining on her face. Damn it. I wish she'd just open up to me. Is it because she's lonely? There's nothing I can really do about that. Men in my position don't just have playmates for their women coming over. Too many eyes and ears that I can't control. I would offer to bring someone from the university, but based on my intel, there are no bridges left standing there. She claims to be lonely yet shoved everyone else away. Feels familiar.
Rubbing my chest, I let go of Chelsea long enough to place my palm against the glass and get it scanned. I pull her back towards me, out of the way of the door swinging inward. She must have wiped her face as my prints were getting scanned because, in the harsh light of the hallway, her face is clear and fresh - as if she'd never shed one, single tear. Shaking my head, I lead her out, leery of her show of submission. Something is cooking in her brain. Has to be. In the few days I've known her, she's yet to be this silent and willing.
Glancing back into the dark, I sigh as the door shuts back into place. I thought maybe she was actually interested in rope. I built that space because I was so obsessed with rope at one point. Granted, most of the time, I used it for far more nefarious reasons, but all the more, I wanted to replace a tool of destruction with a tool of beauty. Seeing something that brought pain and death to so many people wrapped around a willing submissive was far more arousing than anything else. Though the other submissives tolerated it, none of them asked for it, and none of them seemed to enjoy it. I was hoping Chelsea would be different. Her eyes lit up in a way I haven't seen from her, sparking hope inside of me. I can get what I want from her without rope, but it would have been nice to have at least one thing we could have shared - something to connect us besides her unwilling servitude to me.
"I'll have dinner sent up. I won't always miss dinner, but tonight, I must. Someone kept me away from my work, and now I have to play catch up."
Her gaze drops to the floor, but not before I see the hurt in them. I'm not doing this on purpose, but I really do need to put distance between us. Motioning for her to go inside, I lead her to the bathroom and pause to turn on the shower.
"Rinse everything off, and I'll put the shield back on you. You don't have to worry about Ivan touching you again."
The relief rolls off of her as she steps into the warm spray. I watch her as she soaps up her hair and piles it on top of her head, small strands breaking free to frame her face. A gentle smile breaks over her face as she grabs the soap and runs it over her body. It softens her a bit, shows that girl that's in there, dying to come out. She's so hardened by everything, and even more that I don't know or could even possibly imagine. Seeing her like this, carefree and vulnerable, does something to my insides. I want to grab her to me and protect her from everything, mostly from myself.
"Time is money, Princess," I bark out, not wanting to deal with this flood of emotions, not willing to face the fact that I'm molding her into the perfect sacrifice.
Her head bows into the stream, letting the water wash everything away. Her hair cascades in front of her face, hiding it from me. Yeah. I feel like an ass right now. Pressure builds in my heart as she scrubs herself clean, the smile never returning. Glancing over at me for a moment, she thrusts her hips into the spray, holding herself open with one hand as if to prove she's not touching herself.
If she wasn't freshly pierced, I'd let her masturbate all she wanted. It would help assuage the guilt bubbling up inside of me. However, the responsible part of me doesn't want her irritating it or getting it infected. The shield is the best way to make sure she doesn't mess it up. Her very life depends on that piercing healing as it should. I can't tell her that. She can never know the real reason I put her through that much pain, why I deny her everything she wants. To know would be to put her life at risk. I'm already playing fast and loose with her body; the least she can do is keep her as safe as possible.
* * *
Again,I find myself in her room, watching her sleep like a pervert, but I can't help myself. When she's awake, she's all stings and barbs. When she's asleep, that's when I can see her true self shining through. Smiling, I gaze down at her body curled around a large stuffed bear. I didn't realize that was still in this room. It must have been jammed away inside one of the closets. Making a mental note to get her something new, and not just the castoffs of a long-gone submissive, I run my fingers down her arm, smiling as she burrows deeper into the bear.
I unzip my pants, palming my erection as I watch her snore into the fake fur. Something about her lying here, soft and unaware, has me so hard I'm aching. I glide my fingers up, catching a drop of precum at the tip before circling my crown. Biting back a groan, I pump harder, planning on drenching her with my essence again. I angle my cock to a bare patch of skin but glance back over at the bear. It would be rude of me to get cum on a stuffie. If she cares about them as fiercely as other submissives I've known, it might distress her beyond reasoning.
Peeling back a hand, I ease her body over, exposing her to my hungry gaze. One arm still clutches the bear, holding it close as if it will save her from all manners of evil. I bop it on the nose, silently commending its sentry, but I'll be damned if a stuffed animal cock blocks me. I spread her legs open, revealing her glistening lips. It seems like every time I open her up, she's always wet for me. Though the cocky part of me wants to think it's my animalistic charm, the realistic part of me knows it's probably just constant arousal from the piercing. Grinning, I shed my pants and ease my way onto the bed, careful not to squish her under my bulk.
She snorts in her sleep as I prop her knees up to her chest, drawing a tender smile out of me. Bracing, I inch in, just sliding the tip inside. Her tight sheath clenches around me, making me groan. Unable to resist, I pound the rest of the way in, jostling her awake. Sleepy eyes blink up at me in confusion as I grip her hips and use her body. Small whimpers and moans make me twitch as she clenches around me. Still in a sleepy haze, her jaw becomes slack, head tilting back as I ride her hard. Her moans intertwined with my grunts. She may not be able to get off like this, but right now, I don't care. Right now, I'm using the submissive I bound to me for my pleasure.
Each stroke helps me forget my cousin. Each stroke shoves away my notions of right and wrong. All that's here in this moment is Chelsea whispering my name in reverent, moaning pleas. She already got off once this morning; perhaps I'll get her off tomorrow, but right now, it's all about me purging my demons, spilling them deep inside my unwilling submissive. When I'm intertwined with her, nothing can touch me, and that's a high I'm loath to part with. I know the day is coming that she'll be stripped from my side, but until then, I'll keep using her, keep forcing my evil into her to be transformed into something much purer.
With a loud shout, I grip her hips to me, my cock kicking inside her fluttering core, pouring my essence deep inside her. Leaning down, I slide my lips across her forehead, ignoring the eyes full of questions and condemnation. Instead, I pull out of her, ignoring my seed dripping from her. I drag her body to my and curl up around her, my fingers absently brushing against the bear as I hold her. Within minutes, I'm fast asleep.
* * *
The soundof rushing water assaults my ears, dragging me from the best sleep I've had in years. Reaching over, I pull Chelsea back into me, needing to soak in her warmth. As I bury my face into her hair, I pull back at the rougher sensation across my cheek. It's the fucking bear. Chelsea is nowhere to be seen. Glancing down, I see the evidence of our amazing sex last night; well, if I'm honest, my amazing sex. Chelsea just happened to be along for the ride. Moving the bear to the side, I lumber over to my pants, still groggy and sleepy.
Pulling the phone out, anger races through me. It's two in the fucking morning. If I'm calculating correctly, I've gotten maybe two hours of sleep, if I'm lucky. She better have a good fucking reason for being out of this bed and not in my arms.
I storm over to the sound of the shower, knowing full well that I'm being unreasonable. Reasonable does not apply at two in the fucking morning. Throwing the door open, I peer into the stream and watch her scrub away at her thighs, a look of disgust etched on her face. With how hard she's scrubbing, you'd think the worst possible thing was on her - something hard to remove. Neither of those things are the case.
"Something wrong?"
Her head pops up, eyes wide. It's clear she didn't hear me come in. Striding over, I slide in behind her, reaching up to angle the spray back towards me. If I'm going to be awake at this godforsaken hour, I might as well get cleaned too. I ignore the pinched look on her face as I pluck a bar of soap and suds up my body. Her delicate arms cross over her chest as she stares at me.
"That's my soap, you know."
"It's my house, you know," I grumble back, making a great show of shoving the fragrant soap into my armpits before bringing it down to my balls.
The revulsion would have been funny if we had a more gentle camaraderie. Since she's determined to fight me every step of the way, there's been no chance for something soft to blossom in between us. We're stuck in this tug of war where I'm determined to be the winner. She can scowl and pout all she wants, but the fact that she's so blatantly attempting to remove part of me from her will not stand.
"Okay, fine. It's your house, but you're getting your smelly boy stuff all over it."
"Smelly boy stuff?"
"Yes," she gestures wildly at my cock, now rising to half-mast from our verbal sparring. "You're getting your gross shit all over it."
"That 'gross shit,' I grind out, laying the soap back on its holder, "is my cum. I have yet to understand why you have such an aversion to it. It's a natural part of me that I love to see on you, in you, next to you. You're just going to have to get used to that."
I cross my arms, mimicking her pose. Maybe she'll get the idea and see just how ridiculous she looks right now. I should have known better. Instead of backing down, she has the audacity to stomp her foot at me like a petulant child.
"I declare hard limit."
"Oh, do you? You're going to make my cum a hard limit?"