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I wasn’t sure I believed that, but I could understand that she felt insecure now, in the light of day.
“Was I okay last night?” she asked. “I mean, do you think I’m good at this stuff? Compared, you know, to the other women you do this with, at your club? What’s it called again?”
“The Gallery. You should remember that, since you work for an artist.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
I studied her a moment, rubbing my forehead. “Here’s what I wanted out of last night: to make you cry, and to feel sexual pleasure. Both of those things happened as far as I could see, so from my perspective, it was a great session.”
“Oh.” A little of the anxiety left her expression.
“Do you want to meet again?” I asked, slicing an olive and sticking it in my mouth with a piece of bread.
She stared at me. “Yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
I chewed and swallowed. “Think about what I did to you. I strapped you down with a dildo in your rectum. I punished your pussy for the pure thrill of seeing you scream. I called you a slut and tore up your ass so bad that you almost passed out.”
“I didn’t almost pass out.”
“Your whole body was shaking.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Because it hurt like hell. You should see what it feels like.”
“I know what it feels like. There’s nothing I do to you that I haven’t tried on myself first.”
“Even the chair?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
I raised my brows in response. “You think a pervert like me’s never had something up his ass? If you prefer to play without safe words, you have to know how things feel.”
“I respect that,” she said. “I guess there’s more to being a sadist than recklessly hurting people.”
“Recklessly hurting people isn’t the objective.” I looked into her eyes, so blue, so utterly lacking in guile. “So I didn’t go too far last night?” I pressed. For some reason, I needed to hear her say it.
Instead she asked, “How did you find out that you liked to hurt people? You know, sexually?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Please tell me,” she said in a begging voice. “I like what we do together, I really, really do, but I’m curious how you got into it. How you discovered it was what you liked.”
I took a sip of my rapidly cooling coffee and put it down with a grimace. “It wasn’t a discovery, so much. I fantasized from a young age about hurting the pretty girls I liked, and making them cry. Not that I wasn’t taught to respect women,” I said, moving toward my coffeemaker. “I knew the difference between reality and fantasy, but my fantasies…”
I stared down at the counter, remembering torrid afternoons stroking myself, mulling depraved scenarios that were worse than any available porn. “I used to daydream about the feeling of a woman struggling under me, trying to escape. It started when I was very young, when I didn’t realize those urges were sexual. I thought something was wrong with my soul. My parents never hit me, never emotionally or sexually abused me, but these fantasies of force and dominance excited me from my earliest years. Not just force and dominance, but hurting a beautiful woman to the point of tears. God, I was so afraid to let it show.” I laughed, watching my coffeemaker as a fresh cup hissed out. “I thought I was a psychopath. Imagine my relief the first time I stumbled onto an S&M site and realized I wasn’t the only one, not by a long shot.”
“I bet you went crazy when you were finally able to fulfill those fantasies.”
“To an extent. I started learning and exploring, mostly online at first, and at clubs like Underworld. Eventually I connected with a woman who was willing to let me experiment, and experienced enough to show me the ropes.”
“Do you still keep in touch with her?” she asked.
I snorted. “No. She was only doing me a favor. She thought I was a jerk.”
“I don’t think you’re a jerk,” she said, popping an olive into her mouth. “I’m glad I met you, and I’m glad you’re showing me all this stuff. I feel like we’re just on the edge of things.” Her lips curved in a smile. “You know, potential energy.”
I thought of the pendulums in my office, thought of all the world’s energy measured in Joules. I wasn’t sure it would add up to the way she affected me last night.
Meanwhile, I stared at my hands and thought of all the energy they represented, all the questionable things they could do. I’d shoved my fingers in her tender, virgin asshole. I’d whipped her and called her a maso-slut.
I’d also made her come so fucking hard.
