No sooner have I admitted I was wrong than his hand is back in my hair, gripping hard. I bend my head into it, letting him know he can do anything he wants with me right now, and I’ll take it. He’s got me feeling as though I’ve done something terribly wrong, as though I need to be told what to do in order to get anything right, as though I should be punished, thoroughly and seriously, taken in hand by someone in a position to put me in my place and keep me there. I want to give up control, I want to not have to worry about finding another job and another room or where the hell Tarquin is or how small the wad of cash in my pocket’s gotten to be. God, I want this man to hit me, slap me full across the face that other big hand, and then bend me over his exam table and take his belt to me until I can’t move. Don’t much care what he does to me after that, as long as he talks to me during it all. He could spread me and fuck me right there, or order me on my knees to suck him, or just tie me and leave me there, shivering and sore with my ass in the air for anyone to see.
That’s what in my head, but I can’t say all that to him, much as I feel like talking right now. Maybe he can see how much I want it on my face, though. Christ, do I want to give myself to him, in any way he wants. Can’t say that, either. Still have a bit of pride, so I just bow my head where it’s hanging in his grasp and close my eyes.
And then he lets me go and starts fumbling over a lot of different words that all mean no, finishing up with an offer of coffee. If I were going to cry, this would have tears prickling at my eyes, of anger and shame and raw disappointment. I should have known this was too good to be true. For a minute I think seriously about sliding to my knees and begging him to go through with whatever he was about to do, but if I know anything, it’s that you can’t force someone to want something. So I open my eyes and try to pull myself together, out of that place in my head where he sent me so quickly. “Do need some coffee,” I say shakily. “But I also need…this. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m sorry for it. Is there—is there anyway you could see your way clear to—to….” ”To hurting me?” I want to say, and can’t quite manage. God, now I’m really ashamed of myself. Why am I doing this? I’ve just met this man once before, know he’s the town doctor and but not much else. But I wanted this so badly, and now it seems like I’m not going to get it.
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Date: 2010-09-21 01:47 am (UTC)That’s what in my head, but I can’t say all that to him, much as I feel like talking right now. Maybe he can see how much I want it on my face, though. Christ, do I want to give myself to him, in any way he wants. Can’t say that, either. Still have a bit of pride, so I just bow my head where it’s hanging in his grasp and close my eyes.
And then he lets me go and starts fumbling over a lot of different words that all mean no, finishing up with an offer of coffee. If I were going to cry, this would have tears prickling at my eyes, of anger and shame and raw disappointment. I should have known this was too good to be true. For a minute I think seriously about sliding to my knees and begging him to go through with whatever he was about to do, but if I know anything, it’s that you can’t force someone to want something. So I open my eyes and try to pull myself together, out of that place in my head where he sent me so quickly. “Do need some coffee,” I say shakily. “But I also need…this. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m sorry for it. Is there—is there anyway you could see your way clear to—to….” ”To hurting me?” I want to say, and can’t quite manage. God, now I’m really ashamed of myself. Why am I doing this? I’ve just met this man once before, know he’s the town doctor and but not much else. But I wanted this so badly, and now it seems like I’m not going to get it.