“Come on, Kendra. I can’t get to know you like that. You gotta give me more than yes or no.”
I pressed my lips together and stared coldly into his eyes, letting him know I wasn’t answering his investigative questions that had nothing to do with anything.
“What’s the matter, rich girl? Can’t think of anything to say of any importance? You think I don’t know you? You think I don’t know your type? I do. You’re not the only financially loaded female I’ve ever known. You are, however, the most stuck-on-yourself I’ve ever known.”
I took a long drink of beer and smiled a snide half-smile. “Yup, you guessed it. I have nothing interesting to say because of my boring, rich-girl upbringing.”
“Tell me you didn’t have the best of everything, the clothes, private schools, extravagant vacations, hell, I bet you had a yacht growing up, too, didn’t you, Kendra?”
What a fucking dick. “Yup, even bigger than the one I have now.”
“Why are you getting so defensive? You’re the one that can’t answer my questions without being a bitch about it. I just want to get to know you. What’s wrong with that?”
The pizza I was enjoying didn’t taste so good anymore. Nothing tasted good anymore. I had a sour taste in my mouth and I wanted to call the whole thing off. I didn’t like the attitude, and I didn’t want to talk about my life. I knew I was fucked up, but if I wanted to talk to someone about why, I would have paid a professional, someone with a Ph.D., not Sam.
“Let’s dance,” Sam said, standing. Oh my god. Whiplash.
“I don’t want to dance with you.”
“Well, you don’t get a choice. You’re paying me to tell you what to do. I’m telling you to dance.”
I took Sam’s hand and he walked us to the sound system in the corner, pulling me behind him. “I’m not paying you to tell me to dance. I’m paying you to tell me what to do when I’m naked,” I protested, falling right into his arms. We looked like we could be on Dancing With The Stars, him in all white and me in all black. We didn’t really dance like that, though. It was just a slow, romantic dance, his arms holding me tight and mine around his neck.
The words were beautiful and the vibration in Sam’s chest while he hummed the words, “you look wonderful tonight,” made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. What the fuck? I didn’t want to feel warm and fuzzy.
“I really didn’t mean to make you mad. I just don’t understand why you’re so secretive about your life. Why you won’t let me in.”
“Let you in where, Sam? What does that mean? This was supposed to be about my fantasy. I don’t want you in anywhere but my pussy.”
“I want in here,” he softly said, placing his hand right on my chest. What the fuck? For real?
“You can’t get in there. You’ll break me.”
“You’re already broken. Tell me why.”
“Sam. I’m married.”
“Yeah, I know, to Pee Wee Herman. Why…is what I don’t understand. You don’t belong with him and you know it. I was all worried about being that guy, the one that fucked another man’s wife, but you know what, Kendra? I don’t feel remotely bad. That guy is so far from what you deserve.”
“You don’t know anything, Sam. Please let this go. I’m begging you.”
I don’t know what was worse, him not replying or the kiss. The most amazing, possessive, emotional kiss in the universe. What the hell did I get myself into?
“I don’t believe this is what you want. You’re not happy. You hide behind this stuck-up persona and your money, but you’re not happy,” Sam debated, holding my chin to look at him.
“Happiness has nothing to do with it. I want you to take me upstairs and do your job. That’s all I want from you,” I stated, assuring Sam that this was nothing more than a job, and he was nothing more than my employee. I had to hold tight to that, stick to my guns and not let him get to me this way. I was a stuck-up rich bitch and I was staying true to that. I had to.
Sam pulled the black mask from his back pocket, looked at me with an expression that I couldn’t quite read, and covered his eyes. “Go upstairs and take off your clothes. Leave the shoes and the pantyhose. I’ll be up shortly.”
I pulled away and looked up to him. He didn’t look back. He let me go and cleaned up the beer bottles and half-eaten pizza. My mind wasn’t sure what to think, but the sudden throbbing in my clitoris was ecstatic. Undressing was easy. I wasn’t really wearing anything but the dress.
The room went from bright to shadowy when I hit the remote, dimming the room with the tinted windows. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself while I waited. Looking out the door a couple times, I wondered what the hell was taking him so long. I could have sworn I heard the door close. Worried that he may have left, I heard his white shoes ascending the stairs. Why the hell was I so nervous?
Straightening my posture, I tried to get into my cold-hearted bitch role. He needed to know where he stood with me, and I needed to stay strong and show him. My eyes shifted from his mask-covered face to the black leather bag.
“I’ve done a little homework on how to be who you want me to be, Mouse,” Sam began, not looking at me. The low, rough voice he used with me was stern, dominating, and cool. Volts of electricity went to my pussy with the new tone.
“Is that so?” I asked, trying to be just as cold.
“Shhh,” he said with one finger over his lips. “You talk when I say you talk. The research that I’ve done tells me I need to break you down, show you who’s boss. Come to me, Mouse.”
With every nerve on end, I walked to him.
“Wait. Stop right there,” he ordered, and I tried my hardest not to look as perplexed as I was. “Get on your hands and knees. Crawl to me.”
It was all sorts of fucked-up, but I didn’t care. I was in a faraway land, and as screwed up as it seemed, I was so fucking turned on by the thought of crawling to Sam I could have come just by him telling me to come to him.
“Good girl,” he rasped, rubbing my head like I really was an animal. “Is this what you want, my little mouse?” For a second, I wondered who was behind the mask. It didn’t sound like Sam at all. “Keep your head down. Don’t look at me,” he whispered in the same creepy voice. I listened, hearing the zipper on the bag. Wondering what he had brought made my pussy swell, drenched with excitement. I felt the collar go around my neck and the lead being hooked in place.
This new turn of events headed things more rapidly down the rabbit hole. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the particular rabbit hole I was expecting. And eventually, this fervid role playing crystallized around one person. I wasn’t hooked to a collar and leash led by Sam.
I was eleven and my father and Adriana had just entered the living room, suitcases packed. He was going on a trip. They walked in at the exact moment Katie pulled my hair, threw me to the floor, and called me a sewer rat. I saw my dad and Adriana, she didn’t. Katie danced around me, calling me a sewer rat.
My father jerked her by the arm, gaining immediate attention. My eyes shifted to Adriana’s cold, dark eyes, and then the suitcases. Oh crap.
“Get up,” he ordered me. “Why are you letting her treat you this way? You’re bigger than her; you’re older than her,” he reminded me of the fact that didn’t matter one bit. Adriana was bigger than me. That’s what mattered. I didn’t reply. I stood there like an idiot, dropping my eyes from Adriana’s smirk to the floor. “Do it back,” he ordered. My eyes snapped right to Adriana, not my dad.
“I don’t want to,” I meekly replied. He was leaving. I would pay big time if I hurt her precious little Katie. There were three of them and only one of me.
“Pull her hair and knock her down like she did you,” he ordered. I never saw my dad that angry before. It made me feel good, like he was standing up for me when in reality, he just wanted me to stand up for myself. I shook my head and he grabbed my arm. The whole thing wasn’t even my fault. He made me do it. He grasped the black hair in my hand and jerked her to the floor. Adri
ana was right there to comfort precious Katie and tell my father that was enough.
It wasn’t enough. My father jerked Katie from Adriana’s arms and spanked her, holding her seven-year-old body against his for support and leverage. Adriana didn’t stop him. She wouldn’t cross that line, not with him. Katie was made to apologize to me and we were both sent to our room. Five-year-old Paris taunted me on the way out the door, letting me know the fact that I already knew.
“You’re in for it,” she quietly said.
I knew I was in for it. I could hear Adriana and my dad fighting from the top of the stairs. I was scared for my life. I even ran to the hall telephone and phoned my mother. I begged her to come and get me. I told her something bad was going to happen to me, and my dad was going to leave me with Adriana. I tried to explain that she was going to hurt me and be mean. My pleas were quickly depleted when she told me I had to face up to the things I was doing, and I needed to start showing Adriana some respect. I hung up when she was explaining how I needed to get over myself and stop with the whole evil stepmom thing.
I knew Adriana talked to her. She called her all the time, telling her lies about what I had done, what I had said, and what the imaginary counselor said. Adriana and I went there once a week, just her and me. I usually trailed behind her while she shopped for pretty things for her and her Wednesday-looking daughters. I never saw a therapist, but everyone around me believed that I did.
As soon as my father left, I was called downstairs. Fearing for my life, I descended the stairs, listening to Adriana lie to the two cooks, our nanny, and the housekeeper. She was sending them away for a couple days. She never did that. Ever. I sat on the couch and listened to her explain how we were going out of town to be with my father for a couple days. Nobody questioned her. Either she would make their life hell or they would be looking for a job.
“I’ve been saving this for just the right occasion,” Adriana smiled, sitting on the coffee table in front of me. I looked at the dog collar, knowing we weren’t getting a pet. I was going to be the pet. “You don’t ever lay a finger on my daughter. Do you understand me, Sewer Rat?” I timidly nodded my head while she buckled the bright blue dog collar around my neck, tightly. “Yes, Mommy,” she spoke, brushing the back of her fingers down my pale cheek.
“Yes, Mommy,” I replied. I had to. Nobody was going to hear me scream.
“That’s a good pet. Let’s get these off you. Animals don’t wear clothes,” she explained, unbuttoning my shirt.
I raised my eyes to Katie, who was snickering from the other side of the room. Adriana glanced at her and smiled. Once I was completely naked, I was made to get on all fours.
“Katie, why don’t you take our little sewer rat here for a walk? Animals need lots of exercise,” Adriana coaxed, hooking the leash through the loop in my new collar. I wanted to die. I wanted my wicked stepmother and both her evil daughters to die, too. Slow, painful deaths.
Katie jerked the collar, walking faster than I could keep up with. They all laughed when my naked body fell to the floor in horrid humiliation. Paris whined over and over how it was her turn to walk me, and Adriana assured her they both could take care of me.
I was fed lunch on all fours, leftovers my sisters fed me under the table. Adriana even made me eat a piece of meat that Paris couldn’t chew because of the fat. I wasn’t allowed on the furniture, I wasn’t allowed to have a drink of anything but water out of a bowl, and I wasn’t allowed to deposit it in the toilet. When I finally couldn’t hold it, I cried, I begged and pleaded for Adriana to let me go to the bathroom. And then I peed on the floor while they all watched and laughed.
Adriana let my sisters spank me for being a bad sewer rat. They made a game out of it, dancing around and around while they sang the made-up song, “bad, bad, rat, bad, bad, rat, bad, bad, rat,” over and over until I was sure I had red handprints covering my ass.
I hadn’t even realized Sam was on his knees doing the same thing until I felt the tear run down my cheek. I felt the sting on my ass. They were tingles from Sam, not Katie and Paris.
“Jesus, god,” Sam said removing the collar and his mask. “I went too far. I knew this was a bad idea. Come here.”
I stood, begging him not to stop while tears soaked his white shirt.
The kiss I initiated was desperate, and the unintended tears streaked my makeup. Black eyes and smeared lips covered my face. The haunting reflection of that scared, alone little girl stared back at me in the windowed wall when Sam pushed my lips away from his.
“No! We’re done. We’re not doing this, Kendra. You’re not a mouse, you’re not an animal, you’re beautiful. You don’t deserve this, and I’m not going to be a part of it.”
“I do, Sam. I want it. I do,” I begged.
Things went from an absolutely, totally, terrifying turn of events for both of us to something so unreal to me. I didn’t know how to react. Sam held me so close to him while I cried. Why the hell did I do this? Why was I letting down every wall I ever built with this man? Sam held my face and emotionally kissed me. Walking backward until the backs of my knees hit the bed, I sat down and pushed myself up on my elbows. He moved with me, never letting me out of his arms.
I remember unbuttoning his shirt, I remember him removing the white pants, and I remember him moving into me while his eyes never left mine. I don’t remember when the feelings of my previous adventure turned into this. If I had thought I had been quite rapt with the depredations I was begging for moments ago, I was sadly mistaken. This was over the top. In any case, my moment of truth had arrived. The truth that the way Sam extensively made me feel was undeniable.
I melted in his arms, his touch, his kisses, and the way he looked at me. My body was reveling in some sort of high, buzzing with neuro-chemicals of arousal, release, and erotic intoxicating torment. The truth is, it almost felt psychiatric, like a multiple personality thing. I had just gone from being led around my childhood home on a leash to whatever the hell this was. I absorbed Sam’s energy with perfect aplomb, like it was meant to be.
Kissing me deeply, Sam rolled to his back, taking me with him. This was a new experience for me, too. I had never been on top. I asked Garrison to let me ride him once, but he said it was dirty and put the brakes on it. I know my expression held one of wonder and question. I was now in an even deeper dilemma. My aroused state was entirely the result of the way Sam tenderly handled me. What the fuck? I watched Sam’s cock slide in and out of me with his hands guiding my hips. The first orgasm was pulled from my body with slow, tantalizing thrusts.
Although I would like to take the credit of the quickly learned exercise, I really can’t. Sam guided my hips with just a slight tilt, causing the perfect angle for my clit. As soon as the orgasm took over, his hands went to my breasts. Twisting my nipples between his fingers intensified the feelings of a euphorically, amazing orgasm.
Not only did I sit on a man’s cock for the first time in my life, I was also taken from behind with enticing fingers reaching around to my clitoris…my second orgasm. My high heels resting on his shoulders became number three. And the fourth and final came with our bodies molded together in the same way Garrison did it, only this was nothing like the way Garrison did it at all. Sam came deep inside me when I moaned one last time with my lips on his.
“You can keep your money,” he finally spoke with a serious expression.
Afraid I had just ruined what we had going, I slid from beneath him, trying to regain my cold persona. “I think not. I’m fine. That was nothing. Next time, warn me,” I said, trying to get up.
Sam stopped me, holding me down with the weight of his body. “There isn’t going to be a next time. I can’t be that person. I can be this person, the one that just caused you to relinquish four orgasms,” he replied, brushing my cheek with his thumb.
“I do that by myself all the time,” I assured him, bursting his egotistical male bubble.
“Can Garrison?”
“Let’s leave G
arrison out of it. I want to go eat more pizza. I’m still hungry,” I said, getting up. I wasn’t hungry at all. I wanted to get away from a conversation that I didn’t want to have. I was embarrassed and feeling things I didn’t want to feel. “You can go now,” I casually explained, slipping my silky robe over my shoulders.
I heard some sort of growling noise to my back as I descended the stairs. Not turning to look, I went to the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. He was leaving. I didn’t have to go by his rules anymore. My eyes flinched, slamming shut with the sound of the banging door. He left. Just like that, he left. I guess I was expecting a little more fight than that. I didn’t get it. Sam left.
Feeling like a piece of shit for treating him the way I had, I downed the glass. It wasn’t my fault. It was his. Sam knew from the get-go what this was. It wasn’t about all this fucked-up feelings shit that he was bringing to the table. It was about what I wanted, not what he wanted, and I was dealing the cards, not him.
It was only nine. I wasn’t tired and I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. I dressed in casual shorts and a pullover shirt and walked up to The Strip. It helped. Watching drunks fill the streets, I walked along the sidewalk, observing the way people behaved. Everybody had someone. Not one person was there alone, just me. I was the only one out on the town without someone. Why it bothered me was all Sam’s fault. I had always been alone; from the time I can remember, I was alone.
I barely remembered being a family with my mom, dad, and me. There was far too much of Adriana for that. I sat on the yellow curb, sipping RumChata while watching a line of drunks play Limbo. Katie had that game at one of her birthday parties. I felt the déjà vu of that. I sat on the piano bench in the corner, watching while her friends played, laughing and having fun.
“She’s so pretty, isn’t she?” Adriana asked, sitting next to me. “Sit on my lap,” she ordered, smiling at my father from across the room. It wasn’t an offer to show me a little love or attention. It was a front for my father to see how good she was to me.