“Tell me about your dream,” he persisted.
“I-I don’t want to,” I said, finding it difficult to concoct some mundane dream with the man who’d starred in it in front of me and my body taut with unwelcome arousal.
“You know what you want is irrelevant,” He told me. “You can tell me, or you can fight me on it and I’ll strap you to the bed and whip you until you do.”
Something told me he wasn’t bluffing. “You,” I blurted out. “…you were inside me,” I confessed miserably.
He looked surprised—I’d actually surprised him—but it was short-lived. “If you wanted me to fuck you, Pet, why didn’t you just say so?” he asked, but he was just taunting me. Even if I did want it—which I didn’t—if I had asked him for it, he would have denied me just to torment me more.
“I-I don’t.”
“I don’t think your body agrees with you,” He said as he slipped his finger back inside me. I tried to squirm away. I really did try. Or at least, I wanted to. But it felt so good; like a thousand sensations all at once. Besides, it would make no difference. If I shot to my feet and tried to get away, he’d just stop me and punish me for it. Maybe if I stayed still, he’d tire of me.
But he kept it up, plunging in shallowly, again and again, making my body clench around him innately, trying to draw him in deeper. And then he did. He thrust in deeper, and his finger glided against too many sensitive nerve endings for me to stop the quiet moan that escaped my lips. But then he froze, right there inside me.
I wanted to run, and I wanted to make him move inside me, both wants warring against each other and keeping me just as frozen in place.
“You’re a virgin?” he asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question. However, the surprise in his eyes was unmistakable.
“Y-yes,” I sobbed, knowing that if there’d been any hope of him leaving that part of me alone, it had just vanished.
“You’re nearly twenty years old. And you look like this,” he said, motioning to my body with the hand that hadn’t stilled inside me. “How’s that possible.”
I didn’t want to like what he was saying. I didn’t want to take it as a compliment, that he thought I was attractive. It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter. And yet, a small, despicable thrill traveled through me, realizing it was true.
But he wanted to know how it was possible I was still virgin? Maybe because I’d spent every day of my life since becoming a teenager trying in vain to prove I wasn’t a whore, that I would never be a whore. Not like my mother. Every day I spent trying to show my father I wasn’t like her.
But it turned out…I was just like her. There was no denying it now, now when all I wanted to focus on was the finger inside me, the finger that I desperately wanted to start moving again, preferably back to my clit like he’d been doing before, rubbing until the fire inside me culminated into something exquisite.
He didn’t though. He moved around inside me as if just enough to make sure I didn’t forget that he was there—as if I could. And then, all of a sudden, he withdrew completely and stood up. I didn’t watch where he went—it was too humiliating to look up, and I didn’t want to see what he was doing. I kept my eyes glues to a speck of fluff on the floor by my feet.
He returned a moment later, and I wished I’d paid better attention—not that it would have made any difference in the outcome. He hauled me to my feet and shackled my wrists in the restraints that must have been the ones attached to the bed. I tried to pull away, but of course, it was useless.
He pulled me over to the bed and hooked the restraints high up on one of the posts, which pressed hard against my face and the valley between my breasts. Had I made him angry? Why was he doing this?
But when I turned my head to look at him, he didn’t look angry. “What are you doing?” I whispered frantically.
“You’ve been full of surprises, Pet, and I think I’d like some answers,” he explained. “This is how it works. I’m going to ask you a question. When you tell me the truth, I will reward you with pleasure. For every time I believe you have lied to me, you will get the belt. Do you understand?”
No! Of course, I didn’t understand any of it. But I kept my mouth shut and nodded once. What difference did it make? He’d do what he wanted regardless of whether I understood.