Only Pretend (11 page)

Gently, he fucked my tight ass with his finger.

And dammit.

I loved it more than I had any right to.

“Oh god,” I moaned, trying to buck onto him. “That's... I've... ah! Fuck, just... fuck!”

“Language!” Laughing, he curled his digit inside of me. “Maybe I
should
teach you Russian. Though, there is a certain beauty to hearing you swear like that.”

Biting down on the blanket, I just mewled.

Abruptly his thumb popped out of me. My whine was pathetic; I was so glad he couldn't see my flushed face, how I was drooling helplessly. “Why... why stop?”

“Do you not remember the rules?”

I couldn't remember
anything
. Blinking, I saw him walk in front of me. He held something pink, the size of a small, fat carrot. I'd walked past sex toy shops, dared to glance in one as a teen.

An anal plug.

Leonide truly was perverse.

But was I any better, my pussy and ass both flexing with my lust?

He put it to my lips, ignored how I pulled away. “Get this soaked. It's going in that pretty ass of yours. It it's not lubed enough, that's your fault, Celeste.”

Looking him in the eye, I parted my lips. The toy was rubbery, flavorless on my tongue. I slathered it, caught up in my torrent of arousal.

“Fuck,” he breathed out. “Good girl.” He was at my eye-level, his dick fighting to shred through his pants. Just seeing it made me ache, it was a god-send to not be able to speak around the plug.

Ripping it from me, Leonide didn't let me catch my breath. Bending across, covering me in his scent and shadow, he teased my rear with the tip of the toy. Up and down, he nudged a mere taste of inside of me. Each time he moved, he went a fraction deeper... only to remove it, the sounds lewd.

He's breaking me.
The realization was terrifying.
How, how am I falling apart to this?

The plug sank, spreading me wider than his finger had. “Do you want this?”

My molars clenched.
Fuck, I do.
He was melting everything I was. “Mn...”

“Tell me,” he growled, pushing the toy inside more. It left me hollow when he took it away, had me pushing my ass back, body itching. “Tell me to do it. Tell me you need it.”

Sweat rolled down my spine. He
knew
I wanted it, my body was screaming it at him. “I can't... please don't ask—ah!” Fucking fuck!
What am I fighting for again?
“You already... you know what I want!”

He reached between my thighs, felt the torrent of nectar flooding from my cunt. Poking the plug at my asshole, he turned it like a drill. “Of course I fucking
know.
I want you to say it. Admit it, Celeste.” It took effort to hear him over my panting. “Admit you're going to be a sweet little whore, for me... for anyone who has you.”

That... I can't say that!

He slid the biggest part of the object into me, my muscles throbbing around the width. “Oh, god!” I squealed.

“Say it. Just say what's true.”

What's true...

“Tell me you need your ass filled.”

My essence shattered. I didn't know what I was, who I was. Celeste, a slut, blonde or brunette or any fucking hair color? Nothing mattered anymore. Not when Leonide was there, making me question if gravity itself was even real.

Wasn't it all just pretend?

“Fuck me, please!” I sobbed, vibrating in my cuffs. “I need my ass filled, sir! Fuck, just—anything! I'll say it, whatever you want! Just fuck me, please please just—ahh!”

Leonide had told me once, when I first met him, that he could be very kind. The way he buried that pink plug in my ass to the very base, I didn't imagine he could become any kinder.

His palm came down, spanking me sharply. “Now thank me.”

“Thank you, thank you thank you thank you!” I rambled, I begged; I pleaded and was sure I'd even perform tricks if he asked. I never imagined I'd break over something like this. My soul was tainted, black as sin.

Black as his eyes.

I want to cum, I want to finally cum.

It had been so long since I'd had an orgasm—since
he
had given me one. Memories of Vegas, of being spread wide so he could eat my pussy until I was screaming, hit me full force. Without my armor, they rose from the deep like forgotten monsters.

“Please let me cum, sir.” My urgency stomped my pride into the dust. “Anything, I'll do anything!”

His mouth made a shape both dreadful and heavenly. “I know.”

The teeth of his zipper shredded my composure. Into the candle light of that secret place, his engorged cock rose in his fist. The tip was glistening; all I wanted in life was to taste it.

I moved for it, lips parted. Leonide seized my hair in a wad. “If you try to bite, even think about going at me with your teeth, I'll tear every tooth from your fucking skull.” He squinted into my depths. “Understand?”

“I understand, of course!” Did he not grasp how in pieces I was?

Holding the back of my head, he slid his cock across my lips. Like most of my escapades, blow jobs were a rarity. I'd tried to give them to Jones—my ex.
Don't ever think about him.
I lifted my eyes, lost myself in the passion steaming from Leonide's existence.
My ex, my ex, my ex.

I am not boring.

Coating his length with my tongue, I suckled at the head. Everything I did to him caused my clit to pulse. The plug inside of me was being squeezed. Even with it, my hunger left me empty.

I wanted
him;
the warm, thick cock I was lovingly kissing. Wanted him to finally fuck me the way I kept expecting.

Keeping me still, Leonide shoved himself down my throat. Instantly I gagged; I'd never been capable of deep throating. Breathing wildly as he withdrew, I coughed. “Guess we'll have to work on that, too,” he sighed.

He was mocking me. I didn't give a shit.
Just fuck me already,
I mentally begged. On cue, he walked away from me. Turning, I struggled to follow him, to see where he was headed.

His fingers brushed my ankle. “Are you ready to finally cum?”

Everything—ribs, chest, fucking cells—jumped to attention. “Yes! Yes, sir!”

I quivered at the pressure against my pussy. He filled me up inch by inch, and as he neared his root—something hard nudged my clit. It was the first hint something was wrong. It didn't feel like human flesh in me. I was still stuffed, moaning, as Leonide walked back around to face me.

Such a smug man.

Lifting a remote, he tilted it side to side. “How does that vibrator feel?”

“Why?” It was a pathetic question; it was all I had.

His lips came for me, but he did not kiss my skin. Bracing my cheek, Leonide spoke directly into my ear. His echo rocketed through my sensitive body. “I told you. This is your punishment.”

In his hand, the remote clicked on.

There was too much in me that had been on the verge of snapping. I was a world of pleasure, the toys stretching me, the nodule on the vibrator stimulating my nub. Wicked heat slammed against my existence. I came with a scream fit for a porn star.

It had been what I wanted—needed—for so long.

The vibrations continued to wreck me.

He stroked my hair, smiling into my panicked eyes. “Make as much noise as you want. This basement is sound proof, it won't bother anyone.” Adjusting himself in his pants, he headed for the exit.

“Wait!” I cried, interrupted by another quivering burst of lust that made my eyes roll in my skull. “Please—I can't take this!”

He waited till I could see him again, when my next orgasm had faded to quivering aftershocks. “You wanted to cum. I'm giving you what you wanted. Be grateful, Celeste.”

Setting the remote on a table so very far from me, Leonide left me to my fate.

Celeste

––––––––

I
fainted hours after he abandoned me there.

Whatever time had gone by, I awoke to the sound of a faucet. Through the buttermilk of my awareness, I thought someone was washing me. Strong hand. Hands I was coming to know just by touch.

It wasn't the bathroom I had been in before. The tub was ground level, his presence hovering behind me. Everything was red marble, veins of silver sleeping in the mix.

Leonide was singing again; that soft lilt of Russian words I didn't grasp. “Spi, moi angel... tikho, sladko...”

Nothing made sense to me. My brain was rearranged, a universe where I fit in less and less. What was I becoming, why was I changing so easily? The question of what waited for me in the future was a distorted prediction.

In the vapor air, Leonide kissed my forehead while thinking I still dreamed.

And then sleep called me back.

****

I
ached for a whole day after that event. Limping the halls, dressed in a simple cotton dress of dove-grey, I mulled over what my life had become.
Leonide consumes everything.
He ruled my body, my mind, even my unconscious.

There was so little I knew about the man.
And he knows so much about me.
Rubbing my arm where the implant was buried, I remembered how he'd let slip he'd gotten my medical records. What else of mine did he have?

For that matter, what happened to all my stuff?
I'd had a car, luggage, my purse. Did Leonide take everything?
Maybe my car is still sitting at Caesar's.
If it was, someone would notice. They'd investigate, check into where I'd vanished.

Wouldn't they?

On the top of the second floor stairs, a woman with curly hair—I had started calling her Ticked, for how she always 'ticked' her tongue at me in the kitchen—came to a halt. Her hands were buried in her thick skirts, eyes falling my way.

“Oh,” I said in surprise. “Um, hello.” I suspected the women working in the house understood some of my English, if not most of it. They just played dumb out of habit.
Or because they don't want to get more involved.

Dusting off her shoulders, she pointed to me. I touched myself, blinking. Next she started to shuffle away, heading towards the upstairs restroom. Curiously I followed, wondering what was going on.

Inside, she jabbed a stubby finger at the sink. The stink of bleach hit me before I saw the bowl. Waving my hand by my nose, I stared from it, to her, then back. “What's this?”

Reaching out, Ticked scrubbed a strand of my hair between two fingers. Standing straight, I saw the knowing gleam in her grey eyes. “blondínka,” she said.

Warily, I peered in the mirror and stroked the roots on my scalp. “blondínka?”

Ticked gave a nod, gesturing again at the bleach. She spoke rapidly; I caught none of it, I didn't need to.
She knows about my hair. Is she helping me?
Lowering my hand to the bleach in the sink, the applicator brush, I smiled in defeat. “Blonde. Yes.”

She motioned me to sit. Without another thought, I did just that. Her fingers were gentle, peeling chunk after chunk of hair aside to douse the growing brunette. Bleach seared my nostrils. I was dizzy by the time Ticked was through with me.

Watching her empty the bucket down the drain, I brushed my damp hair, studied the bright, fresh color.
Leonide won't know. Not unless I tell him.
A knot snagged the brush; I yanked.
He called training me in time a 'challenge.'

Ticked stood behind me, weaving my hair into a gentle plait.

A challenge.
Opening my eyes, I looked at my reflection.
Yes. At this rate, I think that means I'll be gone before this grows out far enough again.

Was there more risk in letting my new 'husband' find out before Leonide? Clutching my hands to my belly, I nodded after Ticked as she slipped away.
How can I know what to do? I've never met this other man. Fuck, I've spent over a week with Leonide and I can't predict anything about him.

It was a bitter affirmation.

Rising, I walked with heavy steps into the hall. Unless Leonide pulled me aside, I still had many chores to fill my hours.

****

I
was dragging my feet when I climbed to my room. I'd glimpsed Leonide briefly at breakfast. His eyes had burned into me, did things no mere look should do. Finishing a cup of coffee, he tossed on a jacket and strut out of the room. His passing words were a subtle—if unneeded—threat. “I'll be in town today. Behave.”

Then he was gone. I made a point to stay away from the front hallway all day.

Now, yawning, I brushed back my hair and turned my door knob.
He went into town, I didn't even see him at lunch.
I wasn't comfortable with how lonely the house felt when he wasn't around me.

The gossamer dress that hung from my bed post was fluid as rain. Purple, just a hint of sparkle, it was far out of place in my drab confines. Touching it was a joy. There wasn't a moment to ponder on why it was waiting for me.

His footfalls were sharp, expensive loafers poised in the doorway. “Do you like it?”

I swept fingers over the dress; peered back at his smug expression. “It's lovely.”

“Good.” A single long step put him in front of me. With the back of a knuckle, he caressed my cheek. “You're wearing it to dinner.”

I shuddered at his touch. He moved through me, forced my blood to pump. “I don't understand. Dinner where?”

“Here. In my home.” Leonide paused with his grip on my jugular. His thumb made lazy circles. From memory, my ass squeezed. He couldn't have known, but his smile was sly. Was I blushing, was that it?

Spinning away, he walked to the hall. “Get changed and meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes. Put everything on. There's a bag on your bed.” Blinking, I spotted the leather satchel I had missed in my surprise. “If you aren't wearing everything, I'll know.”

He'll know?

Perfectly fluxed, I watched him fade from view. Shutting the door, I eyed that mystery bag.
He's got something planned.
I approached the satchel as if it were a bomb.
That's it. He's always got something.
Shit, that man made me paranoid.