Chapter 57– Hera

Chapter 57– Hera
The way his face fixates in my direction shows me all too well that he is aware but not all that bothered. In fact, I know better than to not realize that this is what he wants. How stupid was I to think he wanted us to watch some ordinary movie. He just wants to stress me out, sexually frustrate me. It's how he plans to get his pound of flesh tonight.

“Oh! Oh! Ohhhhmmmm!"

Fuck.

My gaze is still on the screen and while I want to stop looking, I'm unable to pull away, stop myself from chronicling each sound I hear, every harsh breath that leaves and settles in my head. Right now the duo that have my attention are moaning loudly on the brink of release, sounds melding into one, morphing into something guttural and unreal. Or maybe it's just my brain. But for a while it is all I hear, not even my own breathing.

Lone Wolf: Touch yourself. Do it just like I taught you. I want to see you come.

Miss Dangereuse: If you were so desirous of seeing me come you would have made me. You knew I was on the edge of doing so in the pool room but you stopped right before I did.

Lone Wolf: Because I wanted you to do it yourself. It's why you're here. To satisfy me the way I want because you belong to me on Friday Nights and you don't get to decide the terms of how I use you on said nights.

Miss Dangereuse: Fuck you.

Lone Wolf: Proud as always.

Pride? More like I don't even know what I'd do. I contemplate it for a moment, use my hand to trace the hem of my dress but then snatch it away. ‘Do it like I taught you,’ he said. ‘I wasn't paying attention for goodness sake. I was too busy clenching around your finger, didn't you notice?’ I want to scream. ‘And I don't want your finger right now. You've teased me enough. I want more and it's all your fault. You have made me unrecognisable.’

It's for that reason even though I have no idea why I am doing what I am doing right now– heading for his side– I do it anyway. He's still watching me, hard as a rock as I approach. At this point he is all too aware that I am dripping wet, too horny to be reasoned with yet when I kneel right in front of him and tell him, "please, touch me, Czar” he leans closer, maskfirst like he is trying to catalogue my scent, and then tells me, "no. I don't fuck with my contract employers. But I do like to play with them."

Play with them.

Plaything. Of course. That is what he was referencing. Earlier I accused him of using me as a plaything– that I wasn't going to keep letting him– and now he has decided that that is what he will do… mess with me. Apparently, playthings get seduced then abandoned to drown in their need, who knew?

Rejection Number Two.
This is one of the reasons I wanted to skip Friday Nights. They always seem to like to end in fiasco. Now what am I going to do with myself? One thing I'm sure of though is ending this madness before it takes me with it. While I can still walk, I do it and leave the hall, not looking back once to glimpse the freakish mask behind me.

Barely an hour after, I'm seated at my desk in my bedroom, ready to write my essay, but I don't get started right away. I open my browser, surf through the internet and then play the first video that pops up. Right after, I’m minimizing the application so I can open the word sheet where my assignment is supposed to be, listening as I write– no lyrics, no instrumentals, just moans pulling at the roots of my hair, snaking under the goosebumps that have begun to line my skin.

The funny thing? This won't be my first time. The episode at the recreational center too– not the first one I've seen in my life either.

And Czar knew. He knows just too much. It's why I'm mushy clay whenever he decides he has my time. He knows just how to activate the worst parts of my composition because he knows me so well it’s beginning to feel really oppressive.

But in other news, I now have content for my English assignment as disturbing as it will read to my teacher. When she ends up calling me into her office, the wildest look resting on her face, I'm just going to tell her it's all fiction... And as for the reason I'm now a lunatic, I drop him a text and head for bed:

Miss Dangereuse: The next time I moan out for you, shoot me. For your information our contract has ended. Stay the fuck away from me.