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He said he wouldn’t lie to me.
I will.
Until he finally lets me go.
27
GLYNDON
Inever knew life could be this hectic, absolutely foreign, and downright…surreal.
It’s been a week since Killian fucked me against the bathroom counter—or more likepunishedme.
He’s been punishing me ever since.
Yes, he lets me come, even goes as far as making me beg for an orgasm, and while he takes pleasure in satisfying me, he also likes proving his domination and the fact that he holds all the cards.
He picks me up and throws me down, with his fingers on my throat and his cock wreaking havoc inside me. He bites and slaps and leaves all sorts of hickeys and bruises, especially where everyone can see.
He makes it his mission to be touching me somehow in public, whether with his arm around my waist or shoulder, or my hand tucked in his. Anything that will let the world knows that I belong to him.
That no one dares to ‘look at what’s his,’ as he so eloquently told me.
Unlike what I predicted, however, he hasn’t tried to force my friends to accept him. Instead, he’s used a manipulative approach like the way he got Bran to his side.
He’s barged into our circle, without so much as asking for permission, and sits with us for lunch—that he makes for me every day now. He indulges in everyone’s interests and has made them slowly come out of their shells and accept him.
Never once has he used violence or threatened them—that’s obviously just reserved for me.
As for their reactions, they differ. Ava is all for me getting laid, Cecily still doesn’t trust him, Annika seems like she feels sorry for me more than anything, Remi kind of found out about it last and became adorably dramatic, and Creighton just doesn’t care.
When I told Killian that Remi is like the funniest ever, he didn’t appear amused.
If I thought Killian was overbearing before, I’ve come to learn that he’s nothing short of a dictator. Not only does he want all his orders met, but he also has zero tolerance for opposition.
The more I say no, the more ruthless he becomes. The harder I fight, the more severe my ‘punishment’ is. And that can happen anytime, anywhere. Whether it’s in his car—that he got fixed in record time—his room, my room—after he sneaks in from the balcony—or at the firefly lake, that’s sort of become our meeting spot.
Bottom line is, I’m getting trapped deeper into the web he’s been customizing for me and I’m not sure of the way out.
Do I even want a way out?
Killian is not totally a devil and can actually be nice. He prepares all my meals, and makes sure I eat my food and drink my water—he totally sounded like a doctor when he ordered that.
The other day, I caught him watchingInceptionand he said he wanted to see it again and imagine me watching it for the first time. Totally didn’t like it when I said Leonardo DiCaprio is my celebrity crush, though.
Anyway, he shows interest in my interests, has subscribed to a shit ton of art magazines and bought me a premium palette just because he felt like it.
Then he told me to paint him fucking me with it, the bastard.
As if that’s not enough, he always makes me talk about my art, my friends, and my family. He even chooses to do it when my guard is down, after sex, because he knows I become more open then.
Slowly but surely, he’s getting under my skin to the point I don’t know if it’s a good or a bad thing.
This week has been bubbling with a sense of…freedom. Yes, it’s the scary type—the type where I have to be held down and made helpless to be able to come, but it’s freedom all the same.
It’s the first time I’ve felt like I could let go and not overthink it, have panic attacks about it, or look at myself in the mirror and be disgusted.
The last part is highly due to the fact that Killian often fucks me in front of a mirror and makes me see my pleasure-filled face. He makes me call his name, too. Over and over, until it becomes a hoarse chant.
