There were too many stimuli.
I didn’t know what to focus on. His body pressed entirely along mine, his leg flung over mine, his hand ordering me to feel, to clench, to open for more.
His deep voice echoed in my ears. “Do you like it?”
Like it?
I didn’t know.
I suffered every condition known to the human race. I was guilty, ashamed, afraid, awoken. I wanted him to stop, keep going, leave me alone, climb entirely inside me.
I was a jumping castle with every spectrum of feeling bouncing around inside.
He chuckled, sounding in pain. “You’ll grow to like it…I’ll show you. I’ll be the first to show you how it should be. I’ll be the first to feel you come.”
I wanted to believe him, but my ugly past was a third bedfellow between us. My heart raced with scars and wounds, doing its best to shut down my body that had decided to trust him.
My animalistic desires weren’t complicated. My body knew it was with a new partner and that partner would treat it well. But my mind…it had been conditioned too much to relax—to not tense for the first blow, first hit, first blood.
For me to be able to come? To become so wrapped up in Elder that I was able to shatter like I’d read about?
I didn’t think I could.
I doubted anyone could make me, no matter how much I wanted them to.
He angled his wrist, dipping deeper inside me. A second finger joined the first. The pressure was greater, the stretching wider. He filled me so differently to what had been used on me before.
Memories of unwanted objects and loathsome abuse played centrefold in my mind. I turned rigid as Elder’s breath heated my hairline where he pressed a lingering kiss. “Stay with me. Don’t leave.”
I sucked in a breath and forced my body to relax, for my mind to focus on Elder and only Elder, for the hotel room and soft silky sheets to remind me I would never be tortured again. That this was me claiming myself back. That this was imperative for my future healing.
Elder moved his fingers inside me, stroking, thrusting—slowly at first. Slow and deep and long.
I wasn’t prepared for how quickly my body forgot pain and reached with eager arms for what he promised. My eyes shot wide as his thumb found my clit, pressing in all the right ways.
I gasped, my hands opening and closing still pinned to the mattress above my head.
“Jesus Christ, you feel good.” His fingers drove firmly, deeply. “You need to come, Pim. I need this to feel good for you because I won’t fucking last much longer.”
He was so different to everyone I’d had to suffer through. He expected things for himself, but when it came to me, he was beyond generous.
I opened my mouth to apologise—to warn him that I might not be able to come, no matter how good this initial part felt. But he shook his head and thrust his fingers higher.
I moaned, thrashing my head to the side as a wave of bliss crested over me.
“Would it be better if you closed your eyes?” he murmured. “Focus only on what I’m doing to you.”
They remained resolutely open. I didn’t want to shut him out—not when I didn’t trust myself not to run.
My heart slapped worried hands over its mouth. Would he punish me if I didn’t come? Would he take it personally if I failed?
New fear at disappointing him rose.
“Pim, relax.” He stroked firmly. “Close your eyes. Trust me.”
I already knew what would happen, but for him, I closed my eyes.
The moment I obeyed all I saw was Alrik and my white prison cell and classical music and chains and ropes and pain. I was back there. I was bleeding again, screaming again, wishing for death again.
I was in pieces.
I was in broken torn little pieces.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop!
“Pim. Pim!” Elder released my wrists, grabbing my chin to jerk my face to his. “Pim, open your eyes. Right now.”
It was a fight.
A struggle to climb from the quicksand of horror and remember there was another world out there. My eyelashes had glue on them, glue in the form of fear of finding out where I was, who I was with, and if everything that’d happened with a dragon-tattooed stranger called Elder Prest was a dream or real.
“Pim. Look at me.”
I came back to him, to the bed, to the hotel with a teeth-clattering lurch. My skin was coated in cold sweat, and whatever pleasure he’d conjured was muted beneath sick terror. I wanted to curl into a ball and vanish.
It had only been a few seconds, yet I cowered as if Alrik had reincarnated in the room with us.
Elder kept his fingers inside me, but he didn’t move. Brushing aside damp hair off my cheeks, he whispered, “Are you okay?”