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Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 01

By: HandsInTheDark



I kind of hate my roommate.

Ok, not really. She's sweet and considerate and never borrows stuff without asking, and she never flirted with my boyfriends. (They did flirt with her, but that's not actually the problem. Ok it is a teensy part of the problem, but not... ok, it's Definitely Related to the Problem but to be honest I don't even fucking blame them.)

The problem – well, the original problem - is she's gorgeous. Head to toe slathered in hotness. I'm pretty, she's ravishing. All the damn time, and it's not because she goes out of her way; she just wakes up looking radiant, spends about two minutes on makeup and less on her hair, and sails into her day, basking in the glances of the guys. Guys look at me and smile. Guys look at her and stop dead, staring. 

She barely notices. Well of course she notices, guys freezing in their tracks left and right I mean how do you not notice, but she just keeps sailing right on by. Seriously I want to gouge her eyes out some mornings. 

Or at least I did. Now it's... kind of complicated.

And I know what you're thinking. There are perks to the hot roommate. She'll bring in eligible guys and you'll get to meet them, and she can't keep them all, and leftovers can make a tasty snack... nope. Not Syeira. (Not her real name, and you'll see why). She has – wait for it – a guy back home. Several thousand miles away. They email and skype. It's kind of nauseating.

And I get it. He's nobility or royalty of some kind – of course he is, what else would he be – and he does fly out here several times a semester. She vanishes for the weekend when he does, which means I get a chance to look in a mirror and remember I'm pretty again. Oh, and did I mention she's second cousin to a recent Miss Romania? No, she never admitted that, but we all had to produce genealogies for a six degrees class project and there was the name right there on her tree, and some of the guys recognized it. Of course. (Some of the guys pointed out she actually looked more like a young, bustier Catherine Zeta Jones, which prompted a long discussion about her various attributes that made me literally ill to listen to. I never want to hear the word boobalicious again.)

Oh, and what is she studying? Psychology. This girl who isn't going to have to work a day in her life has a completely legit major and does ok at it. Girls like that are supposed to be failing Art History majors and then get a job modeling. (Her mother won't let her model. Of course.)

And – ok, no. I could go on for pages, but damn it, she's not a horrible person. She just wakes up sweet and lovely and flawless and I end up feeling like I'm the horrible person, for hating so much. At least she wasn't born rich; she's actually a child of poverty and has a job to supplement her scholarship. 

The interesting thing – the thing I want to write about – is... she's not an angel. You'd think with the one long-distance boyfriend and no one on campus and all the rest she'd be that nauseatingly good girl that makes you feel tawdry. But she's... not. And she's not in a very specific way that haunts my dreams.

She doesn't talk about it, except that one time. She was drunk. She'd just had a fight with her boyfriend on skype because he wanted to visit that weekend but she had to study, and he bitched her out for it. She took it hard – seriously, tears all afternoon, she's sensitive – and then got into some vodka and lemon punch. She's not a drinker and had no idea what the hell she was mixing and by the time I got back to the room, more than a third of the liter bottle of Smirnoff was gone. She was a serious mess and, well, even a jealous roomie can't hate that much. I held her hair as she threw up, fed water and juice into her, and stayed with her to make sure she didn't get worse. Part of that meant keeping her talking.

And fucking hell, the story she told...

**

"Classy..." (my name is Clarissa, and she always calls me Classy. I get Clary from everyone else.) "I shouldn't have d-drunk. Drank. D-damn it. I'm ssso sorry! I'm n-not a b-bad girl, ok-k? I'm nooot, except... I juss... s-shit, I jusst like m-m-making people happy. I hate dispen-disp-disappoint-ting Andrei, I s-sso much hate it!" (For the rest I'm going to leave out the drunken, sobbing stuttering. I understand drunken cryspeak as well as any girl but she was pretty incoherent for a lot of this, and you don't want to put up with it.)

"No, Sy, you're not bad. Andrei was being unreasonable." I'd met him enough times to know that this was pretty typical for him. He was gorgeous and had royal manners when he wanted them and could be impeccably polite, but right behind it all was a my-way-or-the-highway attitude that clearly didn't have an off switch. It's the kind of thing that can make a girl crazy, because it's both hot and infuriating. In his case a little closer to infuriating, but it obviously worked with Sy.

She retched, and then sobbed. "No he wasn't. He has expectations and I am understanding that. Not- I mean yes he's very firm, he's... demanding. Of course he is. But I mean... Classy, you're such a good girl. A class act, you know? I'm... not. I'm kind of jealous."

She threw up again – we were having this heartwarming tete-a-tete in the bathroom, and don't tell me you never have – and I stared at her in disbelief. Her, jealous of me. And how good could I be, having murdered her a dozen times this month in my daydreams?

"Sy, you're the best behaved girl I know. Not hooking up on campus because of someone back home, I mean who does that? You're an angel."

She was wailing now. "I'm not! Not an angel, not the girl people think me to be!... Classy, you don't know. I'm... I mean how do you think I met Andrei? It was a party... but nothing you could ever imagine or would ever want to imagine. They don't have them here. Or they're secrets. Even in Romania no one talks about it and we're... oh fuck I'm so bad! I stood up to Andrei and he's furious now; I've been bad but oh, oh, you have no idea how he can bend me... you don't understand!"

I didn't. She was babbling, slurring, and switching topics faster than I could follow. "Hush, Sy, you've never done anything bad in your life. You've never even been to our raves here, I don't think you know what a wild party is. You don't even do our tame little Halloween parties."

"Raves," she said, and she actually half-giggled, while still crying. "Guys feeling up girls and doing drugs. You think that's bad? Oh Classy. So little you understand of the rest of the world. Women are so coddled in this country. Protected by laws, you can go out dressed however you like and the boys won't do anything you don't want..."

I wanted to give her some statistics on rape in America – my classes involve preparing for social work and I know the numbers – but she was in no condition for that kind of talk. And I realized, with a sudden chill, that she might have a point. Eastern Europe (her home), the middle east, rural Russia and China, some parts of Africa and South America... I'd read about a lot of places where women's rights and freedoms were only a badly told joke.

She heaved again, and I made her sip water. She clutched her stomach, and I tried to get her to tell me how fast she'd drunk all that vodka. She didn't know; so I knew she'd made no attempt to pace herself at all. And that was just like her; most people get to college already knowing all about drinking, but she'd never had any experience. Innocent, pure Sy.

She sobbed again, clinging weakly to the toilet. It annoyed me that she looked pretty doing that; it's not a look most women can pull off.

She grabbed my wrist with a clammy, shaking hand. "Do you know what I am? Trash! I'm part gypsy. Romani father, Spanish mother. There's still prejudice – we were always poor. My father was spit on in the streets sometimes, and it was hard for him to find work... there's so much poverty everywhere. I'm so lucky to even be here. Women do not have it so easy at home as they do here. My mother was raped once – and the police wouldn't hear her. She is only a woman and her husband was only an animal, she should be thankful she had it with a real man – I'm not making it up, this is how some people still think. So many people are poor, and so many women turn to prostitution..."

I stared at her, as she curled over and vomited again. Her, a prostitute? Not imaginable. I applied the cold washcloth and got her to sip more water. She was shaking hard and then her eyes drifted closed, and I almost got up to call the hospital, but she turned to me and clung to me and whispered "But I didn't, I never took money, it was never like that. Only the parties..."

I hugged her briefly, but there was every chance she'd throw up on me, so I untangled her with the excuse of trying to get her to stand up. She couldn't; when she got to a kneel she collapsed, and I maneuvered her back to the toilet. "Sy... I'm sorry. Parties? Like gypsy festivals? I don't know what you mean."

"No. How could you? You don't know. You've never even imagined. No, not gypsy festivals. Gypsies would never, they have strict rules about some things... There are stories about them, or silly movies, but the reality is so much... so much more addictive, and I became so willing... I'll tell you. I have to tell someone. My parents don't know. I'd be disowned by my father. They believe a crazy story about meeting Andrei at an airport."

That sounded fascinating, but first things had to come first. "First, promise me no more vodka alone, ever again. You didn't know what you were doing. You scared me." In fact I was still scared; I'd taken the bottle out of her lap when I'd walked in, and she hadn't noticed. She'd woken up slowly from my shouting, but the vomiting had started almost immediately and I'd taken that as a good sign. I was still considering the hospital call, but if I did word would get around, so as long as she could keep talking I'd hold off. "I'm not expert but I thought Eastern Europe was all about hard drinking, how could you be this stupid?"

"I am not permitted to drink," she whispered. I blinked at her. "And anyway hard drinking is for men. I have a glass of țuică at Christmas and I'm dizzy for the rest of the evening, I've never even tasted the fățată, only the men drink much of it. The men make fun of Russian vodka so I thought it would be tame..."

"It says 100 proof on the bottle, dear. That's not tame by anyone's rules. I can hear your brain cells dying from here." But it was impossible to be angry at someone as miserable as she was, and I sighed. "Now swear to me, you will never drink alone again."

"Never again, I swear this on my grandmother's grave." I'd heard a never-again-promise before from a number of people, and it usually didn't count for much, but in her case I was inclined to believe she meant it. She sobbed softly, and then the dry heaves started. At least she wouldn't mess her hair now, so I got up and fetched her some ice cubes to suck. When I got back she was still clinging to the toilet and sobbing, and what was left of the hardness of my heart melted. Guys do this to so many girls. We cry, and they never know or care. As she shook, I pinned back her oceans of hair, marveling a little at how thick it was. 

She sucked the ice cube, and whimpered. "My stomach... Oh kuraf... Distract me with something."

"Tell me about the parties." The topic clearly haunted her but it would at least keep her attention off other things. And now I was curious.

"I'm so ashamed... or maybe I only want to be? Classy I do not know how it all happened. Remember I was poor, just having decent clothing was a struggle. We all dreamed of more, you can't help it, and they know that! It starts with an invitation. They whisper about the invitations, in schools. You hear things. Only the prettiest... I'm not vain I swear it! I know I'm pretty, I hear it every day but it's not... I don't think about it. I don't try to get noticed, you know I don't..."

I knew she didn't. It was part of why it was so easy to be disgusted at her.

"So, an invitation... handed to me by a stranger at school. A man, well dressed – the schools let them in. They are powerful people; people with money can do anything they like. The men look for... girls like me. The invitation is written in gold ink, so beautiful, and it says you can decline. I wonder if anyone does. Maybe the good girls, well off and with good prospects..." (I blinked again. Who speaks about prospects anymore? It sounded like something out a Victorian novel.) "But I wouldn't know. It says you'll be given clothing, given transportation, spend the evening among the wealthy and powerful, and no one will ever talk about it afterwards. All in secret... you can't ever tell anyone. But we all heard rumors of this. Clothing like no one like me ever sees, silk and satin and velvet trim, shoes and jewelry, every fantasy of elegance and romance you ever had... all yours for an evening. The parties are held by, well, in my country we used to have nobility and royalty, and in secret we still do, powerful men, with wealth and authority who decide everything... A democracy in name only, we are very corrupt. So you stare at the beautiful invitation in your hand and you know you will go... your beauty is now a ticket to a world of opulence and splendor, and it's so romantic! For a poor girl there is always the hope of meeting someone, someone like Andrei. There is no resisting it. You're told to meet with someone at a certain place and time to discuss the details. 

"And oh the details. Pictures of the inside of an opulent palace, strewn with gold and velvet, women wearing such beautiful clothing, but so risqué! No one raised gypsy wears such things, don't believe the fashion magazines with their 'gypsy look', the real clothing is very conservative – and pictures of men in tuxedoes and uniforms, servants bowing to all the guests, descriptions of the food and music... all of that is to be yours, and you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Oh, but there is the one little caveat. They don't hide it, they don't have to, because you already know what it is. You must do as you are asked the entire evening. No exceptions. The word whore is never spoken, but you shiver knowing what obedience could come to. Some of the things that are whispered... So of course you ask who it was that is inviting you, who you will be with. And you are told – no one. There will be many men and many women, and when you arrive you're given a piece of paper, a colored shape. I think it is random. My first time I was Red Triangle. It is attached to your clothing. Each man also has a colored shape, they are in pairs, but he keeps his hidden until midnight. You understand, yes? You are at a party and you don't know what man will claim you at midnight, but he knows who you are the whole time. So you talk with many men and you never know which one is the one who... until midnight, when he comes and claims you. Can you imagine it? Clarissa it is the most sexy thing you can imagine. They are all powerful, some are older to be sure but that doesn't always... matter so much, you understand? They all tease and flirt with you, dance with you if you know how – I do – and you know that in the end, one of them... is it this one or that one? What if it is this one? What would he be like? What will he do? Every word they say, every teasing comment, could be a hint of what is to come. You end up flirting with everyone, you can't help it. And there is a clock in the hall... the later it gets the more you flirt. All the girls do. You become so shameless."

I didn't know if I believed or understood what I was hearing. I mean, she was describing a party where hookups happened. Sure. But this sounded very different.

"So you ask... what can the men do, what are the limits? And you're told with a smile that there are strict rules. The men will be... genteel, except during the 'three bells.' And so you ask about the bells.

"The bell is rung three different times, times chosen at random. When it rings, everything stops, and the man you are talking with... for the next twenty minutes, you are... his entertainment. His playmate they call it, but they mean plaything... I had heard the rumors and I knew it was not innocent things that happened. He may not enter you, but he may touch you. Undress you. Toy with you. You cannot touch him back without permission. And remember you don't know if you are with the man who will be with you at midnight. The uncertainty, the curiosity, the fact that you are expected to comply... what it does to you I have no words for. At the end of the twenty minutes, they decide how much clothing you can put back on, and then the ball continues as if nothing happened.

"I knew, Classy. I held the invitation in my hand and I knew what would happen to me, or I thought I did. I was so innocent, not a virgin but not very experienced... but I knew enough. I knew it was wicked and I accepted anyway. Good, pretty me... a plaything for strangers. I told myself it could not be bad, they would not abuse, because that would lead to scandal even in Romania. I thought that made it ok and so I said yes. What I didn't know is how it affected you afterwards..."

She rested her head against the porcelain.

"It is up to the chosen girls to make up a story to satisfy their parents. I never knew I could lie so creatively, and girlfriends covered for me. All I had to tell them was I'd been invited to a party, my blush told them the rest, and they arranged everything. My father never suspected, and if my mother did she never said a word. A woman in a van picked up the two girls in my town who had been invited. She was very beautiful and elegant. I remember being surprised because she was Hungarian, not Romanian, the accent is unmistakable. We travelled for about two hours, and she said very little, and then we were at a palace out in the country, I still do not know the town it is near, the van has no windows in back. We were escorted in and oh, how beautiful it all was, a fairy palace for princesses, so much polished stone and brass and gold, and I felt like a small dirty thing in so beautiful a place, even though I'd taken two baths and worn my best clothes. We were immediately taken to something like one of those immense roman baths, and bathed by women. Bathed and dried and made up and dressed, they had racks of beautiful dresses a hundred feet long, I am not exaggerating! The dresses were fitted to us, and one woman spent ten minutes mixing a perfume for me, no two of us got the same, she'd smell and touch my skin and mix and daub and smell and wash it off and mix again... there were mirrors everywhere, edges in gilt and silver, and I watched myself transformed from pretty to breathtaking. I never knew I could look like that! The outfit they picked for me was deep rose, a sort of fitted bodice, bare midriff, flowing skirt... the bodice was thin and quite... translucent and fit like a glove, and I blushed horribly. The other girls were dressed just as immodestly, which helped. And then my hair was done, beautifully done up, so formal, so elegant. We all looked at each other and gasped. Some of the girls were smiling at the others, and I realized that for some this was not their first visit, and I resolved that I would also be invited back someday no matter what it took.

"And then a small bit of chocolate and a tiny glass of Slivovitz and pear juice. It was warm in my stomach and helped calm me, and I smiled when some of the girls coughed over it a little because at least I was better than that! My parents' Christmas drinks were stronger.

"And then we were taught about manners. How to eat, curtsey, how to hold our hands when we talked – no fidgeting allowed!- and how introduce ourselves, especially that there would be no talk of last names. We were not to make eye contact with anyone we were not talking to. We were wild to know which men were here, of course, and who owned the palace, but all we were told was that "a rightful prince" owned it and he would be here tonight, with many of his family and many people from the government. We haven't had royalty since long before I was born, but everyone knows the names. My heart was racing to know I'd soon be in the same room as people from a famous family."


Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 01



The heaves started again and I gave her more water. "I'm afraid to say your highness has fallen on hard times and has only me to bring her her drinks tonight," I said. I wasn't meaning to be cruel but it was maybe not the most thoughtful thing I could have said, and she sobbed a little. "Classy, no! Don't be like that! I'm no one, you know that! And you probably saved my life!"

I hadn't, but drunk and melodramatic went hand in hand in my girlfriends so I let it pass. "I'm only teasing. And I'm madly jealous. And you never told this story to anyone? I wouldn't be able to hold it in!"

"This is a shameful story and I was told never to tell. I shouldn't say anything but I must, I want you to know how awful I am."

I fed her more water to shut her up, and she promptly threw up again. "No more water, it makes it worse!"

"Good," I told her. "Throwing up is good right now. You don't know how stupid you were."

"I thought the lemonade would make it better."

"You didn't use very much, and anyway, it was hard lemon punch, and Sandy mixed it. You basically had gin in your vodka. I blame myself, I never guessed you'd go near it. But as long as you don't pass out I don't think I have to call the hospital."

"You can't call them! He'd hear!"

"Wait, what? Andrei?"

"He'd find out. I'm not allowed to drink. He'd be furious."

"Babe... what other rules does he have for you?"

"You..." she looked up, and then closed her eyes, dizzy and blushing. "...don't want to know."

We were roomies, not soul sisters, and it was not my place to pry. But suddenly I was very curious and she'd probably never be this talkative again

"Tell me. Now."

"Classy you're a nice girl there's things you don't-"

"Now, Sy."

"Ok, ok! Don't raise your voice at me, I'm miserable enough. I'm... in over my head with him, I know it. I can't drink or date. No parties, no dances. I can't... have orgasms unless I'm with him or on camera with him, and I have to ask before I'm allowed to touch him when we're together-"

"Sy!"

"It's because I like it that way!"

I started at her. She cried a little.

"It's true. I... like it this way. He and his friends taught me to like it... it's addictive. He's powerful and I respond to it. I didn't have much of a sex drive before he... got to me. Now, you can't imagine it. I know how it sounds. But he's not bad. He can be very affectionate. And it's a little different for me. Where I was raised men expect to be obeyed, it's not like here. Don't judge me."

It wasn't the time for a lecture, she was much too drunk. (Remember I'm still cleaning up her words here, she was slurring heavily and sobbing a lot.) When she was sober she and I would have it out, but for now I decided to change the topic before I said something harsh. "Ok, ok, I guess everyone has a bad boyfriend once. Tell me more about the party."

"Where was I?"

"Cleaned up, dressed up, taught manners, something to drink."

"Oh. By then it was around seven in the evening. We were told we'd be introduced to the men at dinner; we were told to eat lightly and there'd be a big breakfast tomorrow. I remember I was shaking. Being prettied and dressed and all the rest is one thing, having to meet actual men is another. But we were lead down the hall, all polished black marble and our high heels echoing as we walked, pearls on our necks – that was a first for me – and there was an immense banquet table set up. At every other place setting there was a colored shape, so we knew where to sit. We were told to remain standing until the men came in and got our chairs for us. And there we stood, alone, nervous, silent, waiting. We were all so beautiful and somehow having to wait was... not romantic, but erotic in a very raw way. We were here for men. That was when it began to dawn on me that there was no nice way to put what we were. We were entertainment. Ornate and prettily wrapped toys. I should have been horrified, but I wasn't. Only curious, excited, scared, and... aroused.

"They came in, talking and laughing, clearly old friends and family. So well dressed, suits and tuxedos, a few military uniforms. I was suddenly very shy, something I had never experienced before, not like this. The men just took places without I think even looking at the colored shapes, but of course I didn't know for sure. Maybe I was sitting next to my eventual blind date and maybe I wasn't. He could have been on either side of me or anywhere in the room, with some other girl... I felt so many emotions, so fast. The one to my left held my chair and got me seated, introduced himself as a Colonel... I can't give names, I must not. He was handsome and gallant, and under thirty but maybe not much. Too old for me at the time, but he didn't seem to care and he plied me with humor and compliments and kept my plate filled. The men got meat, the women got soup and vegetables, very elegantly arranged, everything was so beautiful. The men didn't touch the women, but they looked at us in ways that were like being touched. I was blushing from head to toe in my translucent top and my elegant skirt, and the colonel suddenly leaned towards me and whispered in my ear 'You are very beautiful, sweet Syriena; after the meal I wish to talk to you.' It sounds good enough in English, but in Romanian it sends a shiver down your back. The word for he used for beautiful has overtones of sex. Tu eşti frumoasă. I was wordless, looking down at my plate, and when I could speak I stuttered the same phrase back – in Romanian the same words are used for beautiful women and handsome men. He chuckled and then kissed my ear, very lightly. I dropped my fork, and the girl across the table giggled at me. I wanted to die.

"After the meal was dancing, and I only knew dances from the little local club I'd been invited to in the town a few times, and the traditional Romani dances my father had insisted I learn. But some of them can be danced to waltz music and the colonel knew them, so we did fine. Some of the girls knew how to waltz properly and I was insanely jealous and I vowed to learn. But then a man cut in... that happened a lot. You never knew who you'd dance with from one minute to the next, or in what style. Anyway he insisted I try to waltz, badly or not. I got a lot wrong at first but he was both firm and patient, an older man... I found out later he was a prince of the royal family. I was glad no one told me before, I'd have been a statue in his arms. He embarrassed me horribly but also got me to laugh as we danced, and I decided I liked him. He was also the only one to do anything at all unseemly with me in the dances – he pinched my ass when someone cut in on us and swept me away. I was offended at the time. But I suppose when you are considered royalty you do as you please... I don't know how to explain this. Guys here think nothing of touching girls and because of that it doesn't mean anything. There it happens less and means more."

She drank a little water. She was slurring less. "Roomie... I have to stop talking. These are secrets."

"You have to tell me more." If only because there were salacious details to come and now I wanted to know them all.

"Fine. I am punishing myself by telling you all this. Bad girls need to be punished, Andrei sometimes says." That sent a little shiver down my back. I like being spanked and I have never really wanted to think about what that meant. The thought of pretty Syeira being spanked was hotter than it should have been.

"Besides it doesn't sound so bad. Some dinner and dancing."

"In a tight translucent top."

"Baby, I've done worse at raves."

"Keep listening, innocent Classy. There were breaks in the dancing, and it became obvious that no matter what, it was always to be a man and a woman together. Little pairs, no exceptions. Here the boys have that cute custom – wingmen. So childish! Real men don't need them. When these men talked to you, they talked to you and no one else existed. And oh does that work. They drowned you in attention, focusing on your lips or eyes, they bring you little drinks – no alcohol was involved, by the way, nothing to dull your senses or calm your nerves other than the one little drink at the start. Compliments, joking, questions about your past without going too deep. I know you hate me for dismissing all the boys on campus, but believe me once you've seen what a man can be like you aren't as fascinated by boys. They had me enthralled right from the start, completely mesmerized. I was an emotional whirlwind – embarrassed, fascinated, aroused, laughing, shaking, awe-struck, shy, flirting... everything a woman wants in her star-studded, romantic, opulent evening. 

And then the bell rang. I had just settled into a chair to talk with a man I didn't know. I'd been told about the bell but I didn't really understand. My head was still swimming with the richness and beauty of it all, the gas lamps reflecting on brass and gold, the perfume on me and the smell of the men, the feel of the silk and velvet and organza I was wrapped in, the pearls at my throat. I won't tell you how old I was, but he was I think thirty, too old for me of course. So the bell rang and everything just stopped, and every woman shivered. He chucked softly, and he kissed me, and I froze, but then tried to kiss him back, because what else do you do? But he stopped me and reminded me that I was to be, what is the word... passive. I could not kiss back. I was shuddering in that moment, and not with revulsion. He was handsome, in a suit with medals... an important politician with military rank, and I finally understood that for this time he was in command of me. He kissed me slowly, nibbled me, whispered to me that I was to be his perfect doll, warm and touchable. All around me, girls being treated like this, the air was electric. I was pink from head to toe in seconds, blushing so hard. He slipped behind me, whispered in my ear about my beauty, and then his thumbs ran over the sides of my dress, against the sides of my breast. My nipples were immediately very hard and it was very visible.

"I looked away in embarrassment, but that was a mistake... another man was running his fingers over the lips of a wide-eyed girl who clearly ached to suck his fingers. Another was having her breasts slowly fondled through thin silk and she was so embarrassed but it made her so hot... suddenly her eyes closed and she arched and her head went back, and he pulled down her dress, removed her bra. I stared. I had never seen another woman aroused like that and in that moment I understood about a woman's body. We're nothing but handles and places to touch. Nipples and lips and clits to tease, breasts and hair and ankles and wrists and thighs to grab. We are shaped for men, made to be gripped and compelled. I was in flames, and in that moment the man with me opened the small hooks at the front of my dress – my outfit had no bra – and his hands slid over my breasts. I was frozen now, terrified that my emotions would show. He kissed my mouth again and I learned you can ache with the need to kiss, it can literally hurt to stop yourself. Then he whispered against my lips that I could kiss him back, but if I did he would become shameless... I fought it and fought it, because what would be more shameless than this? and his fingers worked my nipples, and everyone could see... somehow it was being seen like that, that turned me inside out. I was moaning against his lips, shaking, needing to kiss him, this stranger whose name I didn't know. I think I sobbed, and then I kissed him like I had never kissed a boy before. He chuckled against my lips, and pulled me into his lap, and his hand... I was in a full skirt, velvet and silk, and his hand started at my ankle, and swept upwards. Slowly. Uncovering me. Fingers trailing up my leg, so slowly and lightly, and I just kept kissing him, wantonly. I didn't dare stop because I didn't want to know who was looking at me. And I could not stop anyway. He nibbled my lower lip, and one hand cradled a breast, showing it to anyone who cared to look, while the other stroked the inside of my bared thigh. I was burning in shame, but shame can be erotic, can't it... it means we are not in control, and that is deep down what we crave. And his erection, pressed up under me.... He pinched down on my nipple suddenly and my imagination went crazy. I was very aware of how wet I was, and scents and temperatures. His hand was warm, his lips hot. The cool air on my thigh, the tingle beginning... I rubbed my legs together, slowly. I'd only ever done that before to tease a boy, never because of what I truly felt inside."

I listened to her, eyes wide. Her eyes were closed, her skin pale from the shock of the alcohol, but her cheeks were flushed. She was lost in her recollections. She was impossibly lovely and it was very hard not to imagine the man at the party, smiling darkly in that way men do when they know they've won us, toying with her, uncovering her. I swallowed. 

"I remember opening my eyes and looking at another girl, an exotic blonde woman, older, perhaps 20. Her companion had pinned her wrists back against the chair she was trapped in, and he was mercilessly sucking her nipple. He head was slowly tossing back and forth in that way we do when we're overwhelmed. Another girl was being told to slowly stroke her companion's cock through her suit pants, and her hand trembled as she very slowly pressed her hand along his length. The smile on his face as she licked her lips...

"Suddenly the bell rang again – the twenty minutes was up. My companion closed my dress front, leaving one hook open, and then raised me up – and reached under and removed my panties.

"They are sodden, Syeira'," he said, softly. He tossed them aside; I would not get them back. And I realized I had not given him my name, but he knew it. Somehow that made me shake. Perhaps he would be the one, later.

"'I can't help it,' I blurted to him.

"'You would disappoint us if it was any other way," he said. 'You are likely to be invited to more parties; you are very pleasing.'

"The girls were mostly dressed again, but a few were left topless, and some pinned up hair was now down. And on the floor there were scattered a few bras and panties. I stared at them, and realized the bell would ring two more times before midnight. I think the color drained from my face, at that thought. I would be dancing and making small talk with men and suddenly that would all happen again. Now I knew what it would feel like, and the anticipation made it impossible to think. A bell would ring and a stranger would take charge of my body... and I'd respond. More deeply each time, I knew. I stared around at the men. Which one I talked to was important.

"The room was different now. Some of the women here had been to parties like this before, for others like me it was the first time. But now we all understood how things were, the innocence was gone and only anticipation was left. We were all burning, all standing with ears straining for the touch of the hammer on the bell. You know what anticipation does to arousal. Girls were licking their lips, eyes darting around, nipples hard against cloth, cheeks pink. We looked like the toys we had suddenly become, and seeing each other like that made us want to be the best toy.

"I was with Andrei when the bell rang the next time. It was our first conversation, and the moment the bell rang he gripped my hair and kissed my mouth, even as I was gasping in shock, but this time I remembered about not kissing back. And then he removed his tie, and slowly and deliberately knotted it around my wrists, behind my back. Then he opened his shirt, took my hair in his hand again, and compelled me to kiss my way down his chest. He rides, wrestles, does rock-climbing... his chest is... nice. When he was done with that he was standing and I was kneeling to him in my finery, and I realized I'd been licking his belly.

"It was in this moment that the word submission occurred to me, and what it implied. I was panting and staring at the huge bulge in his pants. I tore my eyes away, terrified he'd make me suck him in public. From his dark laughter I knew he'd read my mind. But he merely sat down and commanded me to sit in his lap. I obeyed. I was shaking too hard to disobey. But I thought he'd done his worst by allowing me lick his belly in public. I was wrong.

"His hand pressed between my legs, through the dress. He rubbed, slowly and firmly, then faster. As he did, he made me kiss his mouth, and told me to kiss wantonly. I was too shy or confused to understand or obey, so he used the grip on my hair to turned my head, and snapped, 'Like her', and pointing at a pretty girl no older then I, who was open mouthed kissing her older companion in the most eager, slutty fashion possible. I nodded sickly, frightened by his impatient anger, and tried to obey, and slowly I felt the anger drain out of him. I was pleasing him. 

"I think I was too shocked to really react to the rubbing he was doing, but I suddenly realized that I was soaking into my dress, under his hand. The wetness would be very, very obvious. Somehow that was worse than having my breasts uncovered, and I went scarlet.

"Then his hand went under my dress, and the way he touched me then was nothing I could ignore. It turned my kissing from willful artifice to slutty need. My tongue slipped in and out of his mouth frantically, begging him to give me the same back with his finger; I'd forgotten the males didn't penetrate until after midnight. He knew what I wanted, and his finger teased me mercilessly. In the end my hips were bucking. But he still had worse in store.

"He suddenly took off my pearls and wrapped them around his fingers. Then he pushed my legs apart and used the pearls to rub my clit, up and down, quickly, firmly, while sucking and biting my lips and neck. A boy had only made me come once before. That had been nothing compared to what was building up inside me now. My legs went taut, my back arched, and somehow my bound wrists made it so much more intense... he stopped, kissed my nipples roughly, started again, stopped. I begged for mercy in a whisper, and he laughed. 'No orgasms before midnight, pretty playmate.'

"I looked at the clock. Ten thirty. There would be one more bell before midnight. By the time midnight came, I would be uncontrollably needy. Knowing that only made it hotter.

"He stood me up, freed my wrists... and stripped me naked. He ran his hands all over me, petting me in front of everyone, showing me off... and then picked a bra and pair of panties from the floor, and put them on me. Both were too small, and that emphasized the fullness of my breasts and the feel of everything. He draped the pearls on me again, and they were slippery wet and smelled of me. The bell rang the end, and he smiled sardonically and walked off. I could barely stand. I was panting, in bra, panties, pearls and heels, with ornately done hair and nothing else. And I was better off than some of the girls.

"I went for a bite of food, and tried to talk to a girl at the table because I needed the sanity that only women provide. But she shook her head at me. 'No, sweetheart. If the bell rings and two women are talking, they are made to play with each other while the men play with them. Find a man.'

"Finding a man was easy enough. The last part of the evening involved more dancing – but now it was dancing with fully clothed, horny men and mostly naked women. Hard cock after hard cock pressed up against my bared belly as I danced, and all I could think was 'will it be this one? That one?' and I could not stop myself from rubbing my belly against them. Man after man swirled me around the floor, and I couldn't make a coherent conversation, only feel things and whisper little broken sentences when spoken to. The dance involved many switching of partners, making it impossible to guess who you'd end up with when the bell rang again. Can you imagine what that felt like? Man after man, petting and steering my now desperate body, and at any moment I would be a plaything again...




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 01



"One of the men bent his head down and whispered into my ear a long litany of what he wanted to do to my body, and in the end my legs went weak and he had to sit me down in a chair. He left me and cut on Andrei, who in turn came and talked with me until I could dance again, but then he cast me off to another man. The men openly praised my body in explicit ways – talking about the curve of my thighs, the hardness of my nipples, the fullness of my hair, the redness of my lips, and the hunger they saw in my eyes. I was so achingly aware of my body, and every touch of a hand made me tingle.

"It was eleven thirty when the bell rang for the last time, which meant we'd only have ten minutes between the end of the play period and midnight. The man I was with at that moment had a name I'd heard before, even in my ignorance of politics. He was very straightforward with me, he knew I'd refuse nothing anymore – the bell rang, and he tore the bra and panties from me, forbid me to touch him with my hands, and made me mouth the front of his pants. I could smell and feel my own wetness. Then he took it out, took me by the hair and made me kiss and lick it. Other girls got similar treatment and that made me insane with need. When I tried to suck it he had to pull me back by the hair to stop me. Then, slowly, he lowered his body to a kneel, running his massive, hard damp-tipped cock down between my breasts, over my belly, and then between my thighs. He didn't penetrate, but the upward pressure and gentle rocking nearly made me come without it. My wetness got all over him, and the thought that I was making him slippery so he could pound into some other woman was impossibly hot. I wanted to watch it happen. I looked at the women around me, as much as the men, and imagined what would soon happen to them, in private rooms in the palace. But he did not let me daydream. He kissed me urgently, frantically, while denying me the right to kiss back, and touched me everywhere. Somewhere I heard a girl sobbing in need, and then another. The sound of susurrate pleading from women and soft growling from the men is not something I have words for. I no longer cared which man took me, as long as it was brutal and relentless and I could come over and over.

When the bell rang, at ten minutes to midnight, the men went off to a separate room. Maybe they were trading papers? I still don't know. The girls just waited, I can't say patiently but at least silently. We had no use for each other; we only wanted men. 

They returned, streaming around us, and I realized in the melee that the colored paper marker I'd come in with had been lost in the clothing changes. I quickly found my discarded dress and pinned my red triangle into my hair. It didn't matter to me that I was begging to be claimed by doing this. I only wondered, would my date be one of the three men who had toyed with me? Or someone new? I could understand either answer. A man might want to spend time with a girl before getting her alone – or he might want to sample as many wares as possible, toying with three girls and then claiming a fourth. 

The clock chimed midnight, and the lights simultaneously dimmed. Suddenly there was a hand in my hair, and I was lead to a couch. With a dull shock I realized, I would not be taken to a private place after all. I turned enough to see who had me – it was the first man I'd been with. His smile was a thing of evil, but I wanted that evil. In a certain mood there is nothing better than a man who demands things, even shameful things... I wanted to be taken. Not loved. Not coddled. Not teased. I wanted to be used as a merciless man uses a woman. After I came I'd be sane again and I could consider questions like whether this man was even someone I wanted to know better, but now that did not matter. For now I curled onto the couch, past even being shocked by my own willingness. We were such opposites. I was naked; he was still fully clothed. I was curled, almost prone, he was standing. I was shaking, he was supremely exultant. I had already submitted; he was ruthlessly dominant. But the lust in our eyes was a match. 

"'How?' I whispered.

"'From behind," he snarled. I'd never done that before, but I knelt down over the couch, offering myself. Shame was gone. I'd known how it would end from before I'd come here, even if I hadn't completely admitted it to myself. His hands stroked my back, and then tightened on my hips. My body tensed and I arched, looking back at him over my shoulder. He had already taken it out. Thick, hard, ready. Nearby another woman was gasping as she was taken, that special sound that says Yes, Again, More. In front of me, across the room, Andrei was tying a blonde to something; she was whispering to him frantically, probably begging him to hurry. I remember whispering 'folos eu tare' – Use me hard - and then feeling... you know. The best thing, the only thing there can be in that moment, the feeling of being opened, and then the uncontrollable urge to move and writhe and please.

"He was rough; it was overwhelming. I only felt, I couldn't think. Being taken from behind is so... I've been taken in every way possible, but that is still the position that makes me a total slut. I was not very experienced but with a man in that state there is not much you have to know. All the girls were the same, frantic to be pleasing, to hold the attention of the man who had us, terrified they'd find someone else more pleasing to the eye or that we'd be found too incompetent to bother with. I moved to excite him, as best I knew... I know much more now. And then he grabbed my hair so tight it hurt, and pounded me faster. I came helplessly, frantically trying to stop so I could focus on pleasing him, but I could not control my orgasm, and he just took snarled and growled. I came again, harder, and then he did, and his sounds... so many men and women, all the orgasms, all I could think of was fireworks going off.

"Afterwards he held me down on the couch and used his fingers, while biting my ear. I came again. He was enjoying making me respond. Then suddenly a woman was bent over the back of the couch I was sprawled on, her hair spilling over my belly. Andrei was behind her and he fucked her, as my date forced me to watch, and fingered me. Andrei looked into my eyes as he pounded into her, and when she came, so did I, harder than I knew I could. Then Andrei made his girl lick his cock clean while my date walked my still shaking, panting body upstairs to a room. 

"In the room he poured a shot of something strong down my throat, lay me across the bed on my belly and took me from behind again. There was a mirror in front of me... he told me to keep my head up and look at him and try to be pleasing. He wasn't rough this time, and eventually he came, even though I think I wasn't very good. Afterwards I was dizzy from the shock of everything, and the drink... he curled me against him and I fell asleep quickly, too shy to nuzzle against him.

"When I woke he was gone. I was thankful for that. A woman came in, a servant, and gave me an immense breakfast. On the tray was an envelope and I asked her what it was.

"'The naiv fată doesn't know? The men who liked you... those are their names and a way to contact them. You can contact them or not, that much is up to you. There might be no names in it, or several. You are very pretty and I'm sure there will be at least one, but eat first.'

"I couldn't eat until I opened it. There were two names, Andrei's and the man at the third bell. Not the man I'd slept with but I didn't mind so much. The servant smiled. 'Two names for your first visit is very good. You will be back here I think. Now eat, and then a bath and then you are sent home. Tell the driver where to leave you off. You must never speak of anything that happened. They would be very angry and these are men who can do things when they get angry. Never a word even to your best friends.'"

She fell silent. I was stunned by this little tale, and carefully not dwelling on my own arousal. "And you contacted Andrei?"

She looked down. "I contacted both. These are not people you insult. The other man and I met once, for sex. There was no, what is the funny word, chemistry. Andrei, though... began a relationship with me. I was not his only girl – you have seen him, he can have who he likes. But he made the trip to see me once or sometimes twice a week and he proved he could be very charming. My girlfriends were so jealous, and still are." She smiled a little, and sipped a little water, still looking down.

"Sy," I said. "You had a wild experience. But it's ok, you know? But every girl is wild once."

"Once, you think it happened once? It was only the beginning. Parties happened every four to six weeks. I was invited to almost all of them. Andrei was almost always there, and he often arranged to spend a bell with me, as we say, but he only one other time managed to have me at midnight. It didn't matter, because he saw me at other times and he was training me to be very... accommodating to his wishes."

"Training you." The cold shiver down the back was back. "How?"

"Pleasure and pain, how it is always done. Orgasms, denied orgasms, spankings and face slapping, skipping meals, rich desserts, backrubs, little gifts... once he left me tied in his bed all night and I had to watch him with two other girls. I cried for a week after that. It turns out that there is no difference between training an animal and training a woman. Never trust a man who can tame animals to his hand. He will do the same with you. Andrei is very good with horses, and strange dogs crawl to him on their belly if he calls them. As do I."

"You crawl to him," I said, blankly. 

"Yes, when he asks or if I want sex. To beg to be taken, I take off my clothing, put on lingerie, and crawl to him and kiss his shoes. The smell of leather is now erotic to me."

"And... he has other girls," I said, horrified.

"No, just me, now. Oh, at the parties I know he takes girls, they all do. It's somehow strangely comforting to know he only cheats on me – I can't even call it that because it is no secret – at those parties."

I couldn't stand it. "Sy, you're in an abusive relationship."

"I don't think so. I feel shame but only because I know other people could never understand. The last time me made love to me I had six orgasms in a row and I nearly passed out. He owns my sexuality in a way you can't imagine and that's not something an abuser can ever get. But I don't expect you to understand. Meh, give me a second... I have to pee. It's ok, I think I can sit up now."

She tried, and couldn't. I helped her up, and then gave her privacy.

I sat on the bed, thinking. I had my own whirlwind of emotions now. Shock and arousal. Yeah, arousal. The images she'd planted in my head were vivid and much more erotic than I'd have guessed. But the shock was definitely in there. As a lesson to prove that you can live with someone and never know them this had no equal.

She'd danced with many men, mostly naked, and then been toyed with... ok, I've seen things like that at raves a few times, but the girls were flying on drugs and anyway, they had a choice. This sounded, if not exactly non-consensual, then... that kind of male insistance that was a staple of all the trashy romance novels that always had my hand in my panties by page fifty. And, having seen Andrei... all that arrogance, unleashed on Sy's willing nature. The little video I played in my mind of the two of them was so hot I was licking my lips, until I remembered that Sy was still in bad shape and probably shouldn't be alone long. With an effort I pulled my imagination away from her being bent over and spanked, roughly, angrily... 

"Sy, you ok?"

A flushing noise. "Yes, just very... dizzy... ow!" I heard her stumble and I pushed in, catching her before she pulled the shower rod down on herself. She clung to me for a second and then sank back down to the floor. "It comes and goes in waves," she said. "How long will it be like this?"

"Could be hours. A lot of vodka for your first time... ok, I already called you an idiot so I won't go on and on about it but you're going to have a rough evening. Just drink water until you can manage fruit juice and then drink that. You want to be throwing up and peeing a lot and then drinking more water."

"Why do people even do this? This is such misery."

"Learn your limits. You had... I'm guessing about seven ounces of vodka plus maybe three of the lemon punch, which is probably at least another ounce of gin... call it eight ounces of 100 proof. At least. What do you weigh?"

"Not nice to ask."

"Sy..."

"One thirty one."

I flicked my phone on and did a search. "Yeah, you're lucky you didn't completely pass out. Good thing you started vomiting when you did."

"But how long?"

"Will you stay wasted? Could be a few hours, could be until morning. Depends on a lot of things, there's no good way to tell."

"That's bad. Andrei will call again, midnight our time."

"Don't answer."

"Not allowed."

"This is nuts," I snapped. "This is America. You're not required to answer phones."

"I don't think you'll ever understand my relationship," she said. 

"I suppose I won't. And it's not my place to. But you're clearly not happy if you are getting wasted alone because you're that upset."

"This is the first time this has happened and I've known him for over two years. He's usually considerate."

"Making you crawl for sex isn't considerate. Ok, look, I'm sorry. You feel like shit and this is not the time for this conversation. You like him. I'm not dumb enough to try to talk you out of that."

"You want to."

"Sure. You could have just about any guy on this campus. Ok they aren't nobility or whatever but they'll be polite and open doors for you."

"Open doors for me? Servants you can rent anywhere. I prefer men."

I lost it. "What century are you from?! No one crawls for men, no one! It's degrading! It's demeaning!"

"Eh. I'm too drunk to argue with you. Help me get sober."

"There's nothing you can do to get sober except drink fluids and wait. You could try to sleep, I'll keep an eye on you and make sure you don't choke in your sleep. Just drink two glasses of water before you lie down."

She nodded unsteadily, drank the water, clutched her stomach, but held it down. I helped her stagger into her bed, left her door open, and did some studying from where I could see her.

Except I couldn't. I was angry. A pretty and smart girl like her, crawling to some jerk of a guy. And that got her off? I liked the fact that guys opened doors for me. My last three boyfriends had all been perfect gentlemen. They'd been good relationships, I didn't really know why I'd let them drift away...

She had six orgasms the last time she was with Andrei. How was that even physically possible? I was a one and done sort of girl. So, ok, he was good in bed. That wouldn't remotely make up for the emotional abuse. I mean John had stayed up with me all night when I'd failed a midterm, how sweet was that? He'd cared so much.

I shook my head, because it was suddenly easy to imagine Andrei in that room with her, pushing her legs apart, demanding to be served even though she was drunk...

That mental image had me in flames in seconds. What the fuck, that was depraved!

I held out for five minutes, and then suddenly I was on my bed, masturbating. I got very close to orgasm very quickly, but with a huge effort I stopped myself. I'd been turned on since her description of the party, I mean fuck, it was very hot... but it was still fucked up. I didn't want to get off to that. Bad!

Still panting, I looked in on Sy again. She appeared to be asleep.

I wondered how John was doing. He'd found another girl eventually. She wasn't very pretty and she was kind of loud, hell, even John should have been able to do better than that...

Even John? I'd liked John. Hadn't I?

I had. But I'd been bored. He'd spent money on me, talked to me when I was sad, let me cry on his shoulder, done everything right... so why had he meant nothing to me? 

Sy clearly worshipped Andrei; I'd forgotten John was there, he'd become furniture...

So that was it? Women needed assholes and didn't like nice men? I mean I'd seen it in girlfriends, and somehow I hadn't noticed I was living in the same pattern. Nice boys... nice, boring boys... doing what I asked, thankful for sex. Letting me say no when I wasn't in the mood. Asking me what I wanted, all the fucking time...

Sy coughed, and I practically teleported to her room to make sure she was ok. Her eyes opened, and she winced.

"You ok?"

"I feel like shit still. How long was I asleep?"

"Maybe thirty minutes."

She dragged the pillow over her head and moaned.

"Sy... tell me about Andrei, after you met at the party."

"No. You judge too much."

"I'm sorry. I won't. I'm... curious."

Her head came out from under the pillow, and she looked at me blearily. After a long moment, she held her hand out to me and I pulled her up into a sitting position. She drew a deep breath. "No more judging?"

"I'll try."

"Help me get to the bathroom, and then make me something very, very gentle to eat. Eggs."

She was being oddly bossy, but I nodded. I was asking a favor and she wanted one back. I helped her over to her new best friend, Clay Flushmore, and scrambled some eggs, not listening to the vomiting.

She walked into the kitchen under her own power, though with a hand on the wall, and sat. "Never again with the vodka. I promised that, right?"

I nodded, and slid a plate of eggs next to her. She looked at it, looked away, but then forced herself to take a bite. It stayed down and she gave a tentative smile. "Thank you."

"Tell me about Andrei."

"Classy... I will try but you have to put aside everything you believe about men and women. I have... this is going to sound awful. I've seen your last two boyfriends. They were lapdogs, kind, obedient, so eager to please. But it's better to be eager to please a man, much better. It gets our minds off ourselves, where they were never meant to stay. When Andrei is with me he is totally focused on me, and I am on him, the intensity is something I have no words for you. If you stepped between him and I, he would swat you aside like a bug. I know because it has happened. He makes me his and I get to know that I am his. Holding a door open for a girl doesn't say that. Taking me by the hair and requiring that I kneel to him so he can feel the pleasure of my mouth, that is when I know I am his. I am claimed. He demands things of me and what I feel is an ache to yield to those demands because I want to be claimed fully. He demands I be what I know myself to be – yielding, giving, generous, eager to please. I become myself when I am with him because he gives me the strength to tear off the veil of self-sufficiency and self-determination and just let me myself, a small, beautiful, willing, offering of pleasure. You can't imagine the peace I feel when I sate him, the happiness when I make him laugh."

"What I can't imagine is the six orgasms you have," I said, and then I blushed horribly, utterly shocked I'd said that.

"Three is more common," she said, primly. "Usually by then he comes and then he is done. These men in fantasy stories that want it every hour for days at a time, how horrible that would be. You'd never felt like you did a good enough job... Nothing is sweeter than a man on the edge of sleep after being sated. But sometimes he is more about my orgasms than his own, and when he is... playful like that... and oh, he knows how to be playful. He can make my begging turn to screams. He knows me inside and out. Every secret known, because he demands to know. Do you see? He doesn't let me hide anything, so I have to be myself with him, completely myself."




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 01



"How old is he?"

"Twenty seven. Don't ask me where he got his insight into females at that age. Maybe demons whisper to him in the night. But not when he's with me. I make sure he sleeps very well," she said, eyes glinting. Then she winced, and held her stomach.

"So... after the party, you contacted him..."

"And when I told him who I was, he said, 'finally, it has been six days, why did you make me wait? I will see you tomorrow at five at night, at the fountain up in the hills north of your town...' and then he hung up. Classy it was a two hour walk – I had no car – to that fountain. I was very used to walking places but even a half hour would have gotten me to an abandoned farmhouse where we could have met in secret, and I was nervous walking so far from town for someone I barely knew. And maybe a little annoyed. And when I got there... no one. But then I heard a noise – he was climbing the cliff face below the fountain with a large pack on his back. He called up to me, apologized for being late, and when he got to the top he dunked his head in the fountain's water and then unpacked his pack, setting out a rich picnic for us both.

"The cliff climbing was purely for show – his car was at the bottom of the cliff and he could have driven up to here I was; what he'd spent over an hour climbing, he could have driven in five minutes. He came to me sweaty and tousled and nothing like the elegantly dressed nobleman I'd met at the party, and it worked Classy, I fell for him instantly."

"Ok, that is kind of hot somehow."

"Yes it was. And he knew I found it so. He kissed me, I tried to pull away... he refused to let me. He kissed me until I kissed back, and then, well... he'd had that blonde at the party. I wanted to put her out of his mind. The more we kissed the more I wanted to. Suddenly he told me I could not touch him, and to my shock I suddenly begged to be allowed to. He spent an hour touching me, kissing me, stripping me and making me so crazy I couldn't breathe. He showed me what edge play was."

"Edge play?"

"You've never heard of it? Such gentle boyfriends you pick. You get brought to the edge of orgasm, then told you may not come. Several times. Before he was done I begged to be taken, cried, pleaded. He refused, but he laid me back naked and stood over me and came on my torso, then told me to massage it into my skin and not wash for one day. Then he fed me – such rich food – and cuddled me against him and we talked. Or he did; I was once again burning so hot it was hard to speak. But he told me about himself. He warned me he was a difficult man, not prone to staying with one girl, and very demanding. But he told me he found me interesting and wanted to spend time with me to see how it went. I explained that having to walk so long made it difficult to explain my absence and we set up a closer meeting place... and he told me I must not masturbate and he would see me again in a week. He told me he'd know if I did. Then he ran down the road, brought his car up, and drove me back to near my town. The way I kissed him goodbye... when you can't use your body you please a man, and can only use your mouth, your kiss speaks a language you didn't know you knew. Since that day he has never faulted my kissing."

I didn't say anything. It was an affecting tale. 

"He's demanding, but he's not a bad person. But just as he makes me be myself, he refuses to be anything but himself. No compromises. No exceptions. That means I get to know him, learn him, he's not a moving target."

"Did you... were you good about the not masturbating?"

"That was so hard. But yes. I was hungry the whole week. Daydreaming and fantasizing and at night squirming. I told you I hadn't had much sex drive before that, well that was the first change he made in me. When we met again, he picked me up, we small talked as he drove, he brought me back to the fountain, undressed me again, touched me... he let me kiss him and my kisses begged. I kissed my way down his chest again... he took it out and guided my mouth over it... Without warning he pushed me back and took me and I came so fast and so hard, and the more he held me down and raped my mouth with his tongue and pounded into me the harder I came. When he came, I cried. I told him I knew nothing of lovemaking and would he please teach me. He asked me if I meant it and told me it was not a simple thing... I swore I would be a good student. You see, I was already entering into submission to him without even knowing how and why. He is a man you drown in."

"But... ok, don't take this wrong. You were from a poor family and inexperienced, and this rich fancy boy-"

"Man."

"-Man, is suddenly charming and insistent. I can see how it would be overwhelming. But here everyone is, well, equal, you know? There's rich and poor, sure, and we all want a rich guy, but no one is, well ..."

"Superior? Special?"

"Well, yes. Everyone's the same. Everyone has rights equally and everyone respects each other and-"

"Classy you are not that naïve. First of all boys here and boys everywhere are not so good at respecting women, no matter what they say. So immediately I would tell you that the boys are lying to you. It's sad but it's true, we want them to see us as equals but they don't even see each other as equals. They sort themselves into stronger and weaker, and by stronger they mean physically tougher, emotionally stronger, more ruthless – all things girls don't even want to be and aren't good at, so of course we don't rank well in their eyes. We want respect but we can't earn it on their terms; they can't give it, just like they want things we can't possibly give them. You all pretend to believe in equality, it's very American. And believe me Romanian women are deeply jealous of that. But you give up something to get it, and that's getting wet just because someone of a higher social class looks at your body. You'll never know what it's like to be admired by someone better than you, because you have no concept of 'better than you.' It is an intensely sexual thing. Women in this country are mad for stories about royalty. Those places that still have royalty or memories of royalty know why."

"So Andrei is better than you."

"Bah, you can't understand. These are complicated things. I'm better than languages than you are, you are better at math than I am. That's one kind of better. You are more ethically pure than I am, that's another kind-"

"I'm no angel either," I almost snapped.

"I haven't told you half my stories. You have your fun words for other girls, slattern, skank, slut. I am all those things, whenever I'm asked to be."

"Wait, no, you're in a monogamous relationship. Anything but a slut. You wouldn't cheat on Andrei!"

"I never would. But the parties, remember?"

"So if he can control you-"

"No. He doesn't control me. He commands me. I'm not a puppet. I'm a willing slave. It's very different."

"I... ok, I guess I can see that, kind of. But if he can command you, why doesn't he tell you you can't go to the parties anymore?"

"Actually, he insists I go, whenever I am home. He likes what happens to me."

I was wordless.

"You said you wouldn't judge," she said.

"This is the biggest mind fuck ever. Tell this to anyone and they won't believe you."

"I will not be telling it to anyone and neither will you."

"Yes, fine. But he... I mean he demands you have sex with other men. No guy would do that!"

"He does, it's his command. And I know why he does it. He's the sort of man that enjoys power. He requires me to obey him even in this. He knows that I would rather not do it, it is my obedience he is after. And, well... I am truly a slut now. The fact that he commands it and I obey him makes it impossibly erotic. I don't think I can explain that, but it is. I am so very, very hot at those parties. Men maneuver to get me at third bell because by that time I am, well, many of the men enjoy edge play and I am very... responsive, by then. They gag me so I will not scream. The men who get me at midnight – their names always show up in the envelopes the next morning now. But that is when Andrei becomes possessive, I cannot go to them."

"Would you if you could?"

"A few of them are like Andrei in some ways. Tempting, compelling... but I think I would not. It is a risk not to go, because it can be taken as an insult to refuse and these are powerful men. But everyone in that circle knows that I am Andrei's and so it is not taken so badly."

I tried to imagine having a boyfriend who required me to have foreplay and sex with other men while he watched. I couldn't even get that image to form with John or Steve, but when I imagined it with Andrei... I swallowed. Somewhere deep down inside me there was hiding a very dirty girl, it seemed.

"Please," she said. "I have to be sober when he sees me."

"You really should have thought of that before you drank a third of a bottle of vodka."

"I lost track! It wasn't doing anything at first and I thought I'd mixed in too much lemonade... I don't remember drinking all that. And he is already angry. There must be something!"

"Sweetheart, the first one to discover it will make a fortune. But you should be able to hold it down by focusing. Just don't move around a lot, and focus on speaking carefully. You'll be fine."

"He likes making me say tongue twisters."

"You're screwed."

"Classy, what do I do?"

"I have no idea. You say he's considerate. Tell him the truth – you were very upset and you drank and you did it badly. Maybe he'll have pity."

"He is not very good at that. But he'll be very concerned and he'll get on a plane. He is deeply protective of me." She sighed. "It will not be so bad really. He's been angry at me before, but he doesn't leave me. I just hate to disappoint him. I was so stupid. I told him not to come because I needed to study and I haven't studied, have I."

"When is the test?"

"Tuesday."

"On...?"

"Abnormal psychology. Deviance and aberrant sexuality."

I choked back a number of answers. She gave me a dark look.

"So," I said, changing the topic slightly. "He makes you be sexual online."

"Often. I am surprised you never heard me."

"I, um, have, once or twice. There have been a few moments I was glad I didn't speak Romanian... and once when I really wished I had."

She kind of giggled. "So. 'Voi face ceva' is 'I will do anything.' And 'Vă rog, că nu' is, roughly, 'please don't make me do that.' And 'Trebuie să' is 'please I must', and when I say it over and over it means-"

"I know what it means. It means I put my head under a pillow and think about fluffy bunnies."

"I try to be quiet, I really do."

"Well, you've probably heard me a few times, too."

"Once or twice. But believe me it doesn't bother me."

I paused. "What is it like, an orgy?"

"It can be anything from dull to pleasant to so hot you literally forget to breathe. But I haven't had the experience you see in movies, lots of men climbing on random women. I've never been with more than two men at once, or one man and one woman – and the man wasn't Andrei. Yes, I've been in rooms with quite a few people making love at the same time, but there was no impromptu sharing; everyone had their one partner, or very occasionally two."

"You're... bi."

"Um... that is a complicated question, but I think no. The guy and girl thing happened once, only. At one point the girl was required to go down on me while the guy toyed with me in other ways. I came repeatedly. And the girl was very pretty and I liked looking at her as she served me. But my fantasies are never about being with women, and no, I don't check you out in the shower. Maybe if Andrei had me with girls over and over I'd learn to want it, but he doesn't want that."

"I have a confession," I said. "I sort of pitied you because you were missing so much sexuality. Now it turns out that you've had things I barely even imagine. I feel like a child."

"But you have something I don't. You're in control of your, how to put it, sexual destiny. I gave that up. I admit the orgasms are better my way but there are times I wish who and when, were things I could decide."

"But you must think Andrei is worth it."

"Very worth it." She smiled, "And so are the orgams."

"I don't understand how being controlled – fine, commanded – makes your orgasms better."

"Classy... yes, you do. I've seen the romances you read."

I blushed hard.

"That's not the same. At all. It's one thing to be turned on by some fantasy story guy who's hot and hot for it and knows how to push hard for what he wants. It's something different in real life. It's rape."

"We as girls decide what rape is. For one guy it's rape if he handles our breasts. For another it's not rape even if he pushes us to the floor and forces our legs apart and makes us. Andrei cannot rape me because as long as he loves me, I'm willing to give him anything."

"Anything is a dangerous word."

"I trust him. He's taken me some dark places but never left me alone there. I don't feel any fear with him."

"Then why do you say you're in over your head?"

She paused. "You understand, don't you? He can have anything he wants. I can't say no. I can say Please Don't and he'll honor it some situations, which is why he's not here this weekend. But if he is forceful he will always wins and he knows it. And I crave his power over me. I am a dominated woman and in the end I don't have a choice about it, because I've forgotten how to want one."

The shivering was back. She said those things without blinking, without hesitating... she wasn't ashamed, at least not for herself. She was only ashamed about what other people would think about it, but she was still entirely committed. To a man who held such absolute power over her. It was achingly romantic, impossibly erotic, and utterly wrong.

I realized I'd never been committed to anyone, not really.

"Are you going to marry him?"

"It has come up," she said, blushing. "He wants me to finish school and prove that if I have to, I can support myself. If I do... he's talked about our life together. I want children and he's not sure children will be... best, for awhile. He has a very large appetite for sexuality and he says he'd rather put off parenting until that slows down a little. He is greedy for my undivided attention... that is the only reason why I'd even consider saying no."

"I think they used to call it pre-engaged."

"I really don't understand anything about American dating and courting."

"Neither do Americans."

"You all do seem... confused, sometimes, but who am I to judge? I'm a sex slave."

More shivers. "And you're completely ok with that."

"Yes. Oh, Classy, of course I have my fears. I drank in part because it was scary, how upset I was that I could not please Andrei. It was scary how scared I got, I guess. I tried drinking to calm myself down. I won't do it again, I swear."

She sat up, then stood up, slowly. "It's not so bad now. But the words are still slurring. So he will know."

"Just don't answer the call. You can do that."

"No. He will know I am avoiding him. I don't do that and he will be very worried. And when he finds out it was only because I was drunk he will be furious. He and I don't keep secrets from each other. It's much better that he find out this way."

Having to tell people things. Having no secrets, everything I kept hidden... exposed. Ruthlessly. I swallowed. 

She gave a very small smile, and sat again. "You're very curious about it all."

"It's just a shock. I never would have guessed."

"It's more than shock. You're fascinated. Be careful, sweet girl. This is how it started. You hear things, get told about it... A little seed gets planted. I think, for some girls, there is no way to stop that seed from growing."

"Ha. What you're describing could never be for me."

"I would have said the same a few years ago. Now I just want more."

"Aren't you a little young to have made these kind of decisions about yourself? There's so much we've never experienced, you know? I don't think I'd consider getting engaged until 25."

"And that's so like every girl I know," she smiled. "We have rules, plans, we chart our perfect destiny. Then some man comes along... English has that amazing word, irruptive. Men are irruptive. They break in, shatter things, make other things happen. All you can do is hold on tight, breathlessly."

"In your view of things men are always supposed to be in command, changing everything, and we are just, what, pawns?"

She shook her head no, and then winced. "Headshaking – still bad. No, it can't always be that way for everyone. You've seen dominant woman and I know there are men who are submissive, though why anyone would want that I can't understand. If you want something that comes when you call, get a dog. Meh, I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know John was kind of that way and you seemed very fond of him."

"He was nice. Very thoughtful. He never made me cry."

"That means you didn't love him." She put her hand over her mouth. "Shit. I'm so sorry! I should never have said that. I guess I say a lot of stupid things when I'm drunk."

Maybe she shouldn't have said it, but I already knew she was right. The sting of hearing it was brief. I realized I had a new reason to hate Sy – she felt love, and I never had.

I just didn't know if I could ever buy her view of men. In my experience when men were in charge they just fucked everything up. My father had tried to run a company, it had gone badly, and he'd killed himself. Sy lived in a fairytale world. I didn't.

"Your father," I said, suddenly. "You said people didn't like him?"

"People are idiots," she said, vehemently. "He was a good father. I didn't miss many meals and he and mom always found a way to keep a roof over us and clothing for everyone. He would make, trade, carry, work however he could and he got paid at times that not everyone did. He insisted on school for me, taught me to dance and made me laugh when I was sad."

I nodded. There were good men and bad men. She'd known good ones, so she trusted men. I knew the problem with that; if you meet good men and trust men, sooner or later you trust a bad one. You're actually better off having a bad father in some ways.

"Why did you ask?" she added.

"Just curious."

"Men can be all sorts of things," she said. "It's up to us to tell them apart and know which ones will be good for us. Not that I'm an expert. I was just lucky."

I didn't like how well she'd followed my thoughts.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Eleven thirty."

She cursed in Romanian and got up, wobbling. "I have to get cleaned up."

"You look fine."

"I wear makeup for him, and do my hair. These at least. My hands aren't steady... you have to help me."

"I- no. That's just a little weird. I'm maybe ok with dolling you up but doing it so he can yell at you... no."

"I don't think he'll raise his voice. He doesn't have to, plus he knows what being drunk is like."

"Sy I feel like if I make you up I'm somehow part of this."

"You demanded to know more, so maybe you are. Now help me!"

I sighed, and did. There are girl rules. We help other girls in their relationships, unless we're trying to poach their guys, and I did not want Andrei. She held very still for the makeup, and it went quickly because she didn't wear much. But even in that brief few minutes I felt another wave of desire. Not for Sy, but because I was making her ready for a man. I was suddenly the harem odalisque and I was creating a playmate for the sultan... and it didn't help that applying blush to her cheeks made her shiver visibly. When I was done, her eyes were very wide and dark and she licked dry lips, slowly. I applied lip gloss, and it was impossible not to imagine her being forced to have oral sex. When I was done we were both aroused, and for a man that wasn't even in the room. It was a bit embarrassing.




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 01



"I have one more little demand, dear roommate," she said, as I brushed out her hair.

"Anything for you," I said, a little wryly.

"I want you to watch as I talk to him."

I dropped the brush. "Um... no."

"I insist. You're curious... and you have it in your head that this is evil and degrading. I don't want you to think that. So stand at the door and watch."

"Sy... honestly! First of all I don't speak Romanian. No, that's not the first thing. The first thing is he makes you be sexual online and I do not want to see that!"

"Meh, that. I have no shame left, I don't care what you see. But I do not think he will let me be very sexual. I've been a bad girl. And sexuality is not a punishment with him, except very occasionally and for that he has to be here in person. He might tease and deny me a little but it will not I think be what you expect."

"Ick. And I don't want to hear him yelling at you either."

"He doesn't have to. You've spied on lovers being affectionate because, well, we all have, all we girls, to us that is porn-"

Apparently she'd never seen my browser cache, but I let that point slide.

"- and you will see affection and love, and then you'll know that he's not a monster – and I'm not a fool."

"I never said you were a-"

"Yes, you have, a dozen times with your eyes. But don't you understand? This is who I am, and I can't tell anyone. No one understands, and I want someone to! My girlfriends here would judge the shit out of me. But you've promised you wouldn't, so who else would I pick?"

"This is cra cray. Batshit cra cray."

"Please. I told you things I should never have told anyone, but it's no good if you don't understand."

"Drunkenness," I said, "is the leading cause of melodramatic behavior. It also causes unwise decision making. And causes three out of five women to be a sloppy fuck. This is not the time for you to try to demonstrate your philosophy on love. Not when it's half dissolved in alcohol."

"I'm anything but a sloppy fuck, thank you. I never let a drop spill." 

I hated the fact that she could say things like that with a completely straight face and not a glimmer of shame. It was the kind of thing no girl said without with a wink and a totally prurient giggle. Nothing you say seriously and with that horrifying, quiet glow of pride.

"And I do not think I would be making this offer if it wasn't for the vodka," she continued. "I'd be much too worried about being, you know, judged."

"Sy I'm not that judgmental a person. But how would you react if mother Teresa dropped in and gave a lecture on oral sex techniques."

"If she did I'd take notes. Anything she did, she did wholeheartedly, so she'd be good at that, too. I'd ask for a demonstration."

"Stop it stop it stop it stop it- what are you doing?"

She was pulling out lingerie, with still-shaking hands. I blinked. "Ok, see you in the morning."

"I need help with this."

"I'm jealous enough of your body as it is. Sorry, no. The harem fantasy thing just went too far."

"Ha, you have that one, too. There may be hope for you yet." She started stripping. I headed for the door. She followed. "I can't possibly tie this and I cannot look sloppy for Andrei."

"Arrgh! You bake, right?"

"You know I do."

"I want a dozen brownies tomorrow." I'd had one of her brownies before. It was a fantasy of chocolate ecstasy and I'd made it last a whole day. "Chocolate is my therapy... why do you even bother with this? It's completely sheer!"

"Lingerie is important. Andrei has fantasies about tearing clothing off me."

"Of course he does. Look, ok, sweetheart, you're really like obviously aroused and I'm kinda uncomfortable with that. You said you weren't into girls."

"It's not for you, trust me. A little tighter, and yes, I will make some brownies tomorrow. We will feast. And then I'll have to do a ten mile run."

"Does he, like, keep you to a certain weight?"

"Yes."

"Oh fuck. Just when I thought I'd gotten to the bottom of his depravity."

"You have no idea. But he's nice. Stay and see. Or no brownies."

"You bitch. I could learn to bake, you know."

"You'd use a mix. That's not brownies. That's sugary cardboard painted brown. I start with shaved Belgian chocolate and fresh heavy cream, warmed. I use a tiny amount of ginger and I weigh out the sugar on a scale because too much sugar ruins the flavor. I add Baily's Irish Cream, and I mix in the egg white and yoke in separately. If I'm going to ruin a diet I am going to make it worthwhile."

"You're bribing me to watch you get off with your boyfriend with brownies. How am I supposed to even look at you tomorrow?"

"No getting off I think. And you'll look at me and realize how lucky I am," she smiled. "Ok, I have to get online now. Late is... bad. Sit there."

"I haven't agreed-"

She cut me off with a wave of her hand, settling a few feet away from her laptop with a tiny Bluetooth headphone perched on her ear. She didn't settle gracefully but at least she landed on the couch. Her smile was radiant.

I don't know why I stayed. I mean, yes, her brownies really were all that. But it was something else. Curiosity I suppose. I wanted to know just how mean Andrei would be with his wayward angel.

I heard the warble of a skype call, and she slid to the floor in, I am not making this up, a kneel, with her head down and her hands behind her back. She looked like a book cover from the kind of books that set off my feminist ire, but it did look beautiful, even as it raised my hackles. 

"Andrei," she whispered, eyes down, face glowing.

I'm not going to try to render her half of the conversation; for one thing it was impossible to remember the words in Romanian and for another some of this is a blur. But some things were obvious from context, and it was clear he told her to sit herself on the sofa. Unfortunately she stumbled a bit doing this. And there was an awkward pause, and he spoke, and then she said something which was obviously meant to be a tongue twister and sounded like "banal manic banana". She stuttered all over it, her face fell, and she listened to a brief speech. "Da... Îmi pare rău." I did not need to know her language to know a "Yes... I'm sorry" when I heard it. She'd already been found out.

(I asked later, and the tongue twister was O babă bălană mănâncă o banană babană, an old blonde lady eats a big banana, and Sy had no problem saying it ten times fast. The joke, she said, was a girl who is good at tongue twisters is good at oral sex, so she became expert in saying them all.)

The conversation that followed was swift and intense, and Sy was instantly in tears, but they quieted quickly. At one point she dropped into her kneel again, and whispered something I couldn't make out, over and over. When she looked up again she was much more peaceful and no longer sad. I was struck by her peace, very deeply. I've been comforted by boyfriends and in the end felt kind of impatient with the whole thing, to be honest. She'd been given less comfort, but was now very serene, and even smiled warmly.

Ok, so it was like she'd said, he could be nice, I supposed. But seriously, kneeling?

Then she turned to me and said "He wishes to speak to you."

"Who wishes to- wait, what?"

She unclipped the headset and held it out to me. I gave her a bright smile.

"I heard you wrong. I thought you said he wishes to speak to me but that's impossible. He doesn't even know I'm here. And I don't speak Romanian."

"He speaks some English. You know that, he's said hello to you a couple times. And he knows I'm drunk enough that someone helped me with the makeup and so I had to... explain some things to him." She gestured with the headset.

"I am not getting on camera. I mean, I'm just going to bed-"

"Don't make him wait, roomie. And you can stay there, the Bluetooth will reach."

"I-"

She walked over, a little unsteadily, and put the headset on me.

I swallowed. "H-hello?"

He chuckled, softly. "Clarissa. I wish to give you thanks for keeping Sy safe."

"Oh! It's nothing. You're welcome. Good night!"

"And, something more..."

"Yes?"

"Clarissa says you are curious about, what is the word. Bending. No... Submission."

"Um... n-no. But if I have any questions I will ask Clarissa, she's an expert, I can, um, see that-" I suddenly blushed red. Awkward conversation to put it mildly.

"She also says you do not understand and she desires very much that you do."

"I'll, um, google it."

"No. You must feel it to understand. Now."

"That's impossible, there's no one here who I would ever-"

"Clarissa."

Deep male voices speaking suddenly fuck with my head. I fell silent.

"By now, I mean this moment. I have for you a very little experience to try, to decide how you feel about it. Nothing scary. After all I am very many miles afar of you. Give the headset to Sy."

I blinked, and handed the headset back to Sy. She listened for a moment, and then nodded to me.

"He has something specific in mind for you."

"This- no. I don't know what he means by a very little experience."

"Neither do I, but he wants you on camera."

"No!"

"It's not what you think, sweet girl. He needs to watch your face." She took my wrist and started leading me towards the couch.

My first instinct was that I needed to brush my hair. The second and saner one was I hadn't actually agreed to any little experiences, especially ones that involved a camera or some sort of submission to a stranger. But then, and this was evil... well, I am pretty, after all. If a guy wanted to look at me, instead of Sy, that was kind of hot. I could walk away whenever I wanted to, so what was the harm? I was in a tight tee and shorts, and I sport a pretty decent rack and long legs. I mean I wasn't actually going to flirt with him in front of Sy, but if she was crazy enough to not care if he looked at me, why should I?

"Wait," I said, firmly. I darted off for the bathroom and brushed out my hair. In the background I heard Sy talking to Andrei, and then chuckling. In English she added, "In English that is Vanity, thy name is Woman, but that's not originally from Shakespeare. He was less kind..." and then she called to me "Do not make him wait, Classy!"

"Why not?" I called back, fussing with lip gloss. 

She wobbled back into the bathroom and caught my wrist. "Because it is rude, he is doing something for you and because I asked. And whatever he has in mind it doesn't involve lip gloss." Was that a trace of disapproval in her voice? Good! "Now come on."

She pulled, and I followed. So somehow I was sitting on the couch with a camera on. The screen was dark; Andrei had his camera off for this. Sy fiddled the laptop and the sound came out of the speakers, so now we could both hear him.

"Good morning," his voice said again. Right, it was after midnight. "The words are hard for me so I will mostly speak in my language and Sy will translate. Please speak in English when asked, if I do not understand Sy will help me."

"Alright."

"No, it is not 'alright'. Say 'yes, sir.'"

"What?!"

A burst of Romanian followed. Sy said, softly, "He knows you have no experience with treating anyone as authoritative. But feeling authority from someone else is the beginning of the process. So for this experience he is not Andrei, he is Sir. You must speak formally and use a title, and no sarcasm ever. This is also how I speak to him, except now I'm allowed to use his name. Try it, sweet girl."

This fucked with my head. It's hard to describe. I'd met Andrei a few times, very briefly, and he'd been every girl's favorite thing, a hot older guy, but too he was too insistent on keeping to his own schedule and taking over any room he walked into, which went poorly with me when it was my room. But it was easy to dismiss all that as Sy's Boyfriend and Sy's Problem. It gave me emotional distance from his, well, self-assumed authority.

By calling him Sir, that distance was gone. Consciously acknowledging that he was older, male, and had to be addressed by title... with this simple demand he gave me insight into what living with people of noble rank must have been like. For me the closest analogy was the Victorian romances I occasionally read; and the clear sense of class. I felt like a servant girl. And to my total shock, there was sudden sexual intensity in that thought. Also annoyance, but I reminded myself that I was permitting this and it was an experiment.

"Yes... sir."

The hesitation wasn't meant to be sarcastic. It was just genuinely hard to say the word. I was giving something up by saying it and it was something I'd lived with all my life. It was hard to do.

More Romanian. Sy whispered. "Good. Now sit up straight and fold your hands in your lap." He voice shifted to indicate she wasn't translating. "Think like a young girl in other societies in the presence of teachers or priests. It is a respectful way to sit, it gives honor to him."

"So I don't kneel to him?"

"Classy," she said softly. "This is only a little taste, a, um, little cultural experience. You are not going to learn to be a practicing submissive today, you're going to learn maybe what it is to feel some of what I feel. And if you kneel to him he will take it very seriously and assume you are completely yielded to him and he will forever treat you accordingly. Don't go there, please."

Another burst of Romanian, and it was impatient. Suddenly I was sitting up straight with my hands in my lap. I looked down at my hands because I hadn't told them to do that. Holy shit. He'd done that just with his tone of voice.

More words, softer. Sy translated, "Good." And then whispered, "Classy, he is taking time for you, it is a little gift. You should thank him for it. And if I can give a little hint, end the sentence with sir."

"This is a lot like being a Victorian servant girl."

"No, don't speak to me when he is here. We are not equals at a party, that is what he is trying to get you to let go of, just for a moment. Speak to him."

I was having the strangest feelings, all of a sudden. She really did treat him like something... like he was of a different class. Victorian novels were amusing to read about, but having to live in one, as she did... my emotions were suddenly careening all over the place. I swallowed; she was right about thanking him.

"T-thank you for taking time to show me a little of Sy's world, sir."

Fuck! I'd expected this to be demeaning. In one way it was, in another it wasn't at all. There was a part of me that responded naturally to his assumption of authority... but no, he hadn't actually assumed it. I'd volunteered for this little role change. If he'd really assumed authority over me I'd have bridled. By letting me choose to try an experiment, he'd avoided that reaction, and I was a little horrified to discover that this was... hot.

More Romanian, a longer speech this time. Sy gasped a little, listened more, and then whispered to me.

"This is more than I expected," she said. "But please take it calmly. He says that in you, pride runs very deep, but he says submission runs deeper. So he wants to push you into an actual act of submission. He explained it to me, and-"

"Wait. Sitting like this isn't submission?"

"Hardly. Let me explain. To really experience submission you have to be taken outside your comfort zone. The phrase he used was 'make her to squirm', which doesn't sound as good, but I know exactly what he means. He's asking you to submit to something which under normal circumstances you'd never agree to."

"My clothes stay on." I said. 

"Yes, they will. He already promised that. He doesn't want you sexually." Ouch. "This is... a little different. And I think you will find it very intense. Please just... if you can't handle it, say 'I cannot comply, sir' softly and he will let you go."

"What the hell is he asking for?"

"No profanity in front of Andrei, please, he considers it very unwomanly... He wants me to touch you. He knows you are not into girls and that it will not come naturally to you, which is the part about being outside your comfort zone. All you have to do is keep your head down and not move."

"He's going to watch you touch me," I said blankly. "I though you weren't into girls?"

"I'm not. This is a... rather awkward request he's made. But of course he wouldn't care about that. The way you deal with this is very simple, though. At the moment," she smiled depreciatingly, "these are not my hands. They are his."

"That makes it less awkward for you?"

"Yes. Now lean back and hold still. No words. I will only touch you how he tells me to."

She got behind the couch and settled her hands on my hair. A few words of Romanian were spoken, and she lightly caressed my face. If I could have pretended she was giving me a massage it would have been relaxing; she had a pleasant light touch. But the fact that a guy was watching made the whole thing surreal and very embarrassing. I found myself horrified at the thought that I might find it erotic and above all that any arousal would show. I felt frozen, unable to move, unable to look up, but out of embarrassment, not submission. My sense of touch and hearing was magnified.

He spoke, softly. Sy's hands drifted to my neck, and she massaged, slowly. That helped; it was less intimate and less intense. I still didn't feel any sense of submission and found it was possible to pretend that he wasn't even watching. 

He spoke again... Sy answered in Romanian, and he simply said "Da."

"Don't move," Sy whispered to me in English.

Her hands shifted again, and she began to very lightly caress the sides of my breasts.

And fucking hell!

My emotions were suddenly incomprehensible. They started with horror; it was impossibly intimate and utterly wrong. Instantly it shaded into shame, because my nipples hardened. My breath stopped and my ears strained for any sound from the speakers, because even the faintest hint that he was jerking off to this would have sent me into a screaming rage. I realized that what Sy had said earlier was true. She was an extension of his will right now, which meant... it was his hands that were touching me. And I was expected to let him do this.

"Good," his voice said in English. "It is difficult I am sure. But by allowing this you experience something new, a sense of yielding to my will. Tell me what you feel and remember to end with Sir."

I started shaking. "It feels... wrong, vulnerable, embarrassing, shameful. Not erotic. I feel... small. Are you... are you aroused by this, sir?"

I blushed hideously because I hadn't meant to ask that and I didn't know which answer I wanted.

The reply was in Romanian, and then Sy chuckled. "He says that neither of us is exactly unpleasant to look at, and that there is an erotic... charge... to the fact we are both submitting to him. He also says if he only wanted to get off to hot girls touching each other there's an internet full of such things and he's not jerking off to this. And I believe him, I know his tone of voice and how he responds to things. He's watching you very carefully but it's to see how you are handling this. I can tell by his tone that he's a little amused and a little pleased." She dropped her voice. "You're pleasing him, Classy. If you have a submissive streak then you will feel pleasure in that."

I was pleasing him. My emotions were too jumbled to make sense to me, but despite what I'd told him, the sense of eroticism was undeniable. So was the sense of vulnerability. And my nipples were so hard they ached.

He spoke again, and Sy whispered to me "Now... we find out just what you are made of. Close your eyes."

I did, shaking. Her fingertips slid lightly over my nipples, through the cloth, caressing slowly.




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 02



The next day, Sy stayed in her room with a laptop, a small pile of digital media, and a larger mountain of books. It was a hard major and when she studied she really got down to it. For myself, I decided last night simply hadn't happened. Which meant there was no need to be embarrassed about any of it, but was a tiny bit annoying because one of my friends is a lesbian and it would have been fun to tell her I got felt up by the prettiest girl on campus and watch her at least pretend to get insanely jealous.

Sy emerged at noon and got to work setting out blocks of chocolate. I blinked.

"Um... the brownies were just a talking point, you know. I wasn't serious."

"You need these after yesterday. And I will need them Wednesday." She set the oven to 325, and got out two knives.

I helped her shave and mix. "So... poor family. But you buy really good chocolate," I said, after a highly critical taste test. "What's your secret?"

"Full scholarships, splitting rent, few dating costs and I mostly eat cheap," she said, squinting at the scale she was measuring confectioners' sugar on.

"Full scholarship?"

"Well, two scholarships, but between them they cover everything but rent and food, which is why I have the job at the library and do the tutoring thing." She sighed a little. "You're going to ask, so yes. Andrei and his friends arranged the scholarships. I could not possibly afford to be here otherwise. And no, there are no strings. He arranged them after we were already deep in a relationship, and they go for four years as long as I maintain an average." She chuckled a little. "For a Romanian he has his enlightened moments. He believes in my education."

"How does that work with your parents? A boy – yes, I know, man – paying your way?"

"Oh, that is not how wealth operates. He's not writing checks. There's an American foundation with business interests in Romania sponsoring one of them, and a French group interested in the plight of Romanian gypsies behind the other. In his world it is very much who you know and who knows you."

"Your life is such a fairy tale, except for the crawling for sex part. Which still bothers me. Boys are supposed to be the ones begging for what we have."

"But men never will."

"I fall into that word trap every time. I guess I can't think of them as men."

"Beat the cream a little and warm it, I'll start to melt the chocolate, with that half cup of unsalted butter. And that's just it... there are not many men on this campus. They are mostly boys. Pretenders playing a part. Though I say it as a Romanian woman who is used to men who are much less gentle and undemanding, my standards are different. I'm sure some of the... males, here, are very nice."

"Do you know Bill? The sprinter? He's gorgeous..."

Sy facepalmed. "You can certainly pick them. He's gay."

"What? How do you know?"

"Not to be conceited, but straight guys all pretty much respond to me in exactly one way. When a guy doesn't, he's either only into asians, or he's gay. Besides, have you ever seen him off the track? No straight guy spends that much time on his hair and nails."

"Another dream shattered."

"Come to Romania with me next summer. I'll find you someone."

"Language barrier."

"I'll teach you the words for Yes, Faster, Make me, Harder, and Oh Fuck Yes. You'll do fine," she said with a straight face.

"I don't know if I'll ever get over how wicked you are. Best kept secret ever."

"Wicked and loyal. That's really all guys want, you know."

"Self-centered pigs. I have personality and accomplishments. I have wit and charm. I'm so much more than a bed warmer."

"That's every girl's, what is your word, lament. Girl A understands Immanuel Kant, girl B has a pushup bra. Guess who gets the guy."

"Why is it that way, anyway? We care about their accomplishments and skills. Why don't they care about ours?"

"Meh. Men keep telling us they are simple but really they are incomprehensible. Ask Andrei your question, he has beliefs on the topic. And they are cynical beliefs. He would say that we only care about a man's accomplishments if they give him power and social standing. If you met the world's best knitter and he was a male, would you want to mate with him?"

"Um... well, baby would be kept warm... ok, I get your point. So this is it? We want to see big bank accounts and expensive cars and they want a nice rack and a willing smile, and that's love?"

"No, that's sex. Love is different. And a lot rarer I think."

"What you said yesterday-"

"I am sorry for every word I said yesterday," she said instantly. "Alcohol is evil."

"You were right," I said. "I've never loved a guy. I was in love with having a boyfriend, not the actual boy."

"Having a boyfriend is important. It means we're not failures. And that had nothing to do with love; we use guys to make us feel socially successful, we take their gifts as tribute and proof of our social standing. We're just as shallow as they are when you come right down to it."

"Expecting gifts is not shallow. If we're going to pop babies out, they need good homes. Good providers. Giving gifts proves the guy can afford things."

"Now who is being Victorian? These days both men and women work. So why are the guys the providers? We should have to prove our economic worth, too. It should be equal, right?"

We looked at each other, and simultaneously said "No!" and started laughing.

I took the warmed cream off the stove. "But that's not what equality means. It doesn't mean the same. It means we get the things that guys have denied girls over history. Money, power, freedom."

"Equality means equal, but equal at what?" Sy stirred the chocolate firmly. "Equally free would be nice and that seems fair to ask for. But equal in responsibilities and roles? I at least don't want that. I want to be cared for and protected by a male, while caring for and protecting children."

I shivered a little. "One thing I hate about you – you just say things. I mean yes, ok, fine, I want the same thing you do, wouldn't that be nice, to have a man provide for you, but it's wrong to want it. It's sexist and history shows it's dangerous. It's a bad deal for women, we know what happens when men control the wealth and get to choose to share it with their mates. It's not shared equally. Or at all. You see, I was thinking about this yesterday. Your... way of doing things, deferring to a man... it only works if the man is perfect, or at least very very good. Is anyone? I mean... Andrei is going to punish you. That freaks me out. He shouldn't have the right. It's dangerous. Inequality is always dangerous."

"Because I'll end up poor, abused, barefoot and in the kitchen and pregnant, isn't that the phrase? Sweetheart, look at me. I was born poor. My man arranged for me to go to college. He's making sure that if I want economic freedom I can have it. Yes, he's going to spank me for drinking too much, but I'm glad someone cares enough to make very sure I don't make that mistake again."

"It's supposed to be you that cares for yourself that way. It's your responsibility. Not his."

"Meh. That's your American individualism speaking again. I believe in shared responsibility. In Psych it's called collective identity. People agree to watch out for each other, help each other, and form an identity that's – eh, you get it. Individualism is just how you think, but it's not the only way to think. Ok, stir the Baliey's into that dollop of warm cream, add the sugar to it and that pinch of ginger, and then the egg white; we're going to drizzle all that into the chocolate, and then the flour and egg yolk together."

"It's not much flour."

"If you want cake we can make cake some other time. These are brownies. Flour and egg are there to hold it together, nothing else. Ok, that looks properly mixed. Drizzle it in slowly, if the chocolate stiffens we start over." She stirred firmly and quickly.

"Where did you learn to cook?"

"My mother was an excellent cook and did amazing things with very little. I promised myself when I got to America, where food pours into your hands from meat and cheese trees all year around, I would learn to cook brilliantly. They lied about the trees and so much of the food here is processed to death... sometimes I think people eat better in rural Romania, at least you know the meat came from a pig or goat you've been introduced to socially... alright, the flour and yolk and vanilla and that tiny pinch of salt."

"No chocolate chips? I've got some."

"Commercial chocolate chips are such crap. Too milky and sugary. Dulling good Belgian chocolate with it? Ewww."

"Wow. That looks like liquid sin."

"Paint me with it and tie me to the bed when Andrei arrives. Maybe he'll forgive me."

"That's kind of..."

"Hot, yeah, I know. Here's a story I bet you didn't know. You remember the first Pirates of the Carribean movie? Orlando Bloom gets into a sword fight, and the villain douses him with a sack of ash to try to blind him during the fight. Except they can't really use ash when they film of course, it's very bad for you. So what they actually use is powdered chocolate. Chocolate covered Orlando Bloom. I know girls who would have sold their souls to have been on that set... I was more into Captain Jack, myself. Alright, make sure the pans are warm to the touch; you can't ever pour chocolate into a cold pan. Good? Here goes."

She poured and scraped and shoved the pans into the oven.

"Now we sit and fret for 30 minutes, trying not to check the brownies every 5 minutes. I mean think how you'd feel if you were taking a nice warm shower and every 5 minutes someone came in and opened the window and let the winter air in. Brownies need to feel the heat relentlessly caressing them, and slowly realize that their fate is unavoidable, they will cook, and then be nibbled until they melt into a hungry mouth..."

"Shit, Sy. You have such an innocent face, too."

"I do, don't I," she said, looking down and smiling mischievously. "The wide set eyes help, and you learn to hold them just a little more open when men speak, and arch your back just a little, as if you don't know you're doing it... It drives them wild..."

+++

Fast forward to Wednesday. That was easy for me; I had fallen behind in my class work and catching up kept me very busy. Sy was the same, plus she had her test Tuesday and knew she'd lose a day or two when Andrei arrived, so she spent every waking moment of her time divided between her room, the library, the town library working, and the gym, working off the brownie she'd eaten on Tuesday after her test. Now I knew why she weighed herself each morning, and while I had to admit her regime got great results I was very, very glad no one expected my weight to stay a certain number.

Wednesday morning I was up and out early, before Sy, did two classes and then I really did visit the library. I had a paper coming up. I was just really getting into it when the phone chirped.

I glanced at it. Sy was calling. This was just about unprecedented. Anything she had to say could always wait until we ran into each other; we really only had each other's numbers for emergencies. I blinked and thumbed Answer.

"Sy?"

"Clarissa. Did you mean it about staying in the library all day?"

"Pretty much. You need your priva-"

"Clarissa, listen, I only have a few moments free. Stick to your plan. Andrei is here and he brought a friend."

"He brought a girl? Fucking hell, Sy, I hope you see now-"

"No! Don't be absurd. He brought Stefan, one of his friends in the old royal family. The story is that Stefan is here to see America, but I overheard them talking, and Clarissa, Stefan is here to meet you."

"What the fuck?!"

People all over the library stared at me. I scowled at them and scooted myself outside. "That's insane!"

"Not so insane in Andrei's world. But Stefan is the worst thing in the world for you. Proud, arrogant, and entirely without mercy when it comes to women. Like Andrei with a harder edge. Just stay out of the room today and tonight. You can stay in Elena's room, her roommate is away."

"Um... is he good looking?"

"That doesn't matter! He's old world royalty and he'll expect girls here to treat him the way he'd be treated back home, and believe me when I say that that's not you. I once heard him say that all the ugly feminists pigs needed was a good fucking, this is not one of your nice American boys! I have to go. See you late on Thursday!"

I slipped the phone away and just stared at the fucking sky. Of all the arrogant nerve. I did not need help finding boys. Men. Whatever the fuck they were. Andrei takes one look at me and thinks he knows what I need, and he thinks it's that? I'd go straight to the room and slap his face for him, and drag Sy out of there because she was out of her fucking mind, there's no managing a guy who thinks he can do whatever the hell he wants, what she really fucking needed was a nice boy to rub her feet and bring her some flowers and then got around to proposing after a damn year, it's all any girl needed, what sort of prick-

I stormed back into the library. I had studying to do.

+++

An hour went by and then I gave up. I was too upset to get anything else for the paper. Lunch. I ran over to the student café and out of obscure rebellion got an ice cream sundae for dessert, because no one was watching my weight.

"Well, hello."

My blood ran cold. Stefan?!

I turned around, and breathed a little easier. This was a guy I'd seen on campus before. Kind of cute, often with a girl, and not usually the same one, or a group of guys. Let's be honest, that's what I like in a guy and I know I'm not alone in that. The more girls I see someone with, the more interesting he gets, and the pack of male friends is just essential. I know some girls are into the moody loners, but screw that.

"Um. Hi."

"Didn't mean to terrify you."

"You didn't."

"Then you're just naturally pale? That's kind of hot, actually."

Ooo, flirty. See, I don't need any help, Andrei. I got my rack and a nice butt and I do just fine.

"Glad you like it. Do you have a name?"

"Sure. My mom and dad were generous that way. What's yours?"

"I asked first."

"Technically, you didn't."

"Um. Yeah, ok. Clarissa."

He took the ice cream from my hands, which left me free to get myself a drink. When I looked back he was at a table with my ice cream, waiting. Typical male, making assumptions. Kind of hot though. I walked over with a disapproving look on my face.

"Who says I have time to sit and chat?"

"Do you?"

"I don't sit with nameless people."

"Only the famous will do? I'm Eric. And you're kind of cute."

I bent over the table and planted two hands on it, glaring into his eyes. "I'm fucking gorgeous, mister. Cute you can get from a puppy."

"Whoa," he said, scrambling back a little. "Down, bitch. Sorry, ok? Yes you're kinda gorgeous. Have some ice cream."

"Don't mind if I do. Since it's mine."

"Yes, ma'am. Your ice cream." He slid it over.

Something was wrong here. I didn't know what. He was doing stuff right. He'd caught my attention. Ok, the kinda gorgeous had cost him a point or two, but I was already... losing focus. He was cute. He wasn't too shy. What was putting me off?

I jabbed the spoon into the ice cream. Dessert first today, I decided. Maybe he'd find that sexy. Oh, hell, guys never notice that shit, no matter what the chick magazines say. He was already taking in my cleavage. Suddenly Sy's words about widening my eyes and arching my back a little came to mind. But I didn't do it. I didn't see the point.

Why didn't I see the point?

He'd flinched when I'd planted my hands on the table. 

That had ruined it.

"Hey, Kristie!" he called out. "Hey sweetheart," he said to me. "Sorry it's been so brief, but, heh, I need to talk to Kristie. Enjoy your ice cream, gorgeous."

He moved off. He'd just wanted to be seen with a girl when Kristie showed up. I'd just been used as a stage prop. Holy fucking shit.

Snarling, I packed up my lunch, leaving the fucking ice cream behind. I'd eat in the library. With my books. Fuck boys!

+++

Usually I'm pretty aware of my surroundings. Girls have to be, for one thing, but I'm a peoplewatcher and usually I know exactly who is around me. But I was angry and I just stormed to the library, and hiked up the stairs to the door shedding little traces of fury in the air behind me. And so...

"Clarissa."

I stopped. That was a voice I didn't know and it had an accent that was familiar from Sy and Andrei. I stopped so hard I stumbled on the steps. By the time I recovered he was looming over me, 6' 2" at least. He didn't hold out his hand to help me up, with annoyed me but was probably really his best move, because in that mood I'd probably have snapped at him.

"Yes?" And then I made eye contact.

This was unquestionably Stefan. He was unquestionably gorgeous, with dark eyes which I couldn't help notice were narrowed and assessing. His lips formed a thin smile which I didn't like at all, and I felt instantly that he was not a warm person. But he was a commanding one. 

Apparently he'd perched himself on the low wall that flanked the steps and waited for me. And no one was supposed to know I was here. Why had Sy told him?

"My name is Stefan," he said. "I am a friend of Andrei's. I'd like to talk to you."

His accent was a little thicker than Andrei's, but his English seemed better. 

"Welcome to America," I said. A little coldly. You know, America, where women have rights? "I'm afraid this is not a good time, I have studying to do." I moved on.

"You are prettier than your photo," he said, as if he hadn't heard me.

"Wait. Photo?"

"One was taken when you spoke to Andrei recently."

"That's creepy," I snapped. 

"Andrei can be a little bit that way. It was a photo of you, alone, sitting, if you are wondering. Nothing compromising."

"Oh good. Excuse me, my books are waiting for me."

"It took me three hours to find you, Clarissa. Perhaps you can spare me an hour."

"Look," I said, suddenly and openly angry. "Sy called me earlier. She told me something she wasn't supposed to know. She told me that you are here because you saw a picture of me. This is a college, not a mail-order bride site." That comparison was a little mixed, but I wasn't at my cleverest. "In this country what you are doing is called stalking and it's creepy as hell and I can call campus security and you'll be on a plane back home in a matter of hours."

"The picture has nothing to do with it. It's not your breasts I want to have a conversation with."

I arched my back. "Funny, most men do."

"I can understand that. But I find it best to start with the brain. The part of it that speaks in words. Which returns us to the conversation I'd prefer to have, and not on the steps of this building."

"Do you know, you're kind of persistent? And arrogant."

"Arrogant? I flew for a number of hours to meet you. That small gesture should earn a little courtesy from you. I see it doesn't. You are the one being arrogant. So be it. I'll be in the lobby of the Dove hotel on 12th street for a few hours. Show up if you decide to put aside that arrogance, and talk."

He turned and walked away. He didn't seem angry or even disappointed. He just walked away, cool disregard wafting around him. I just stared after him, stunned.

"Clairy?" It was Sandy's voice. "You ok?"

"Uh... yeah. Fine. Hi."

"Who was that?"

"I don't exactly know. Friend of a friend of a friend."

"He's gorgeous. You blew him off?"

"He... I..." I had no words. Somehow I'd been drawn into Sy's world, where things happened that you could never explain to anyone.




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 02



"Girlfriend," she said. "Are you seeing all those girls glancing his way? He'd be someone to be seen with. I'm sorta shocked at you."

It struck me that her suggestion of being seen with a hot guy would have made perfect sense to me if I hadn't just been on the other end of that game ten minutes ago. 

"He was... I dunno, he just assumed I'd drop everything and talk to him."

"Yeah, and?"

I liked Sandy. But she was a little boy crazy. She wasn't the prettiest and she drank too often and I'd sometimes felt that she wasn't going to make it at this school, because she just seemed, I don't know, directionless. I didn't even know her major. She didn't seem to click with guys and it was easy to see her drifting through life, having a few drinking friends and maybe a fuckbuddy at some point and that was going to be it for Sandy.

Was I going to be like that?

"Girlfriend?"

"Yeah?"

She was watching my face. "You're on the edge of tears. What did he say to you?"

"I'm fine. He was just a little arrogant."

"Why can't I ever meet them hot and just a little arrogant," she sighed. "Look, stop by this evening if you need to talk, kay? Lemon punch and conversation about how guys suck, the keys to a happy life."

"Um... need to study. Maybe. I don't know."

She shook her head. "He got to you somehow. Well, whatevers. I have to run, laters!"

She walked off. I was barely aware of her leaving.

At one extreme there was Sy. Enslaved, in love, committed, kneeling to a man she legitimately believed had the right to spank her and make her crawl. Great sex, almost smug contentment, but still enslaved.

On the other, Sandy, doing what she wanted, mostly bad things, never in love, never in anything, no sex, no contentment and probably unaware of that, going nowhere slowly.

Somewhere between, me. Not enslaved, but never in love, never committed, the sex had been okish, and I was very suddenly no longer content with my simple little world. My roommate had accidentally clawed my view of things to shreds, and I didn't know what to do about that. Her view was still very wrong but mine was no longer right. 

I knew this: I never wanted to be Sandy. 

But I was much more like her than I was like Sy. And with sudden and complete clarity, I knew it.

A tear trickled, and I didn't know why, perhaps because I was steadfastly refusing to look to my own feelings.

And then I was walking off the library steps, down the street, books left behind me; even, quick steps towards 12th. I was not thinking, I was not planning, I was not listening to my thoughts, or the shrill fears singing in my veins, I was simply listening to the steady rhythm my feet as they took me to a place where all my rules could very well get rewritten... but I no longer cared about that.

And that is why I kind of hate my roommate. She's tipped me into a world I do not understand.



Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 03



He was in the hotel lobby, on a laptop. He hadn't seen me yet. I could still run. But I already knew I wouldn't, so I used the moment to see how other people reacted to him.

The hotel receptionist was looking at him and clearly liking what she saw. Not a surprise, because there was nothing wrong with his looks. He was tall, dusky skinned, eyes almost black, lean, with close cropped hair. His motions were very deliberate and controlled. The face was intent but otherwise emotionless in that stern way that kind of makes you calm but also a little afraid. 

He raised his hand and gestured me forward. I thought he hadn't seen me, but he had.

My feet moved again. I was trembling a little, and I didn't really know why. I had no idea what he wanted, after all. It would be sex, of course, but I wasn't allowing myself to think about, because I wasn't that sort of girl. 

I reached him and stood there, having no idea what else to do. I waited until he looked up. He didn't.

"Submission," he said, "only happens when a woman feels there is something worth submitting to. You don't know me, so you have no idea what you feel about me. I'd guess that you are very carefully thinking nothing at all. That's very safe. Are you surprised you are here?"

"Yes." I almost said Sir. 

He looked up then, staring into my eyes. I still felt nothing. I was waiting for something.

"Sit with me. I need to finish this little matter..."

I settled gracefully into the chair across from him.

He typed a bit. "I like the way you are arching your back." He said.

I hadn't realized I was. But I was. And now that I was aware of it I didn't know if I should keep doing it. 

"I'm sorry," I said, suddenly. "But I really don't know why I'm here."

He hit a key, and closed the laptop.

"The simple answer is because I asked you to be. But I know you are asking a larger question. You feel something is missing in your experiences or you wouldn't have come. What you really should be asking, is why am I here."

"That question had, um, occurred to me. Sy had said very little about you... but she made it obvious you don't have a problem finding female... friends."

"Such a delicate way of putting it," he said, dryly. "But in a sense she's wrong. I have no problem finding willing admirers. Some of them are a little too willing. They are all very eager to be what I want; the problem is they have all already decided what it is I want. Tiresome. And then Andrei says he talked to a pretty girl," he nodded to me, "who clearly ached to yield to a man and clearly didn't have a single idea how to do it."

"Ached, huh?"

"I trust Andrei's assessment. He sees deeper into a woman's soul than many men do. And if he had been wrong you wouldn't be here."

Point, I thought, a little bitterly.

"And so on a whim I thought I would see this pretty girl who wanted to find someone to give herself to and didn't know how. I would see if I was the one she would give herself to and what would happen if she did."

"So we are both here on a whim."

"Yes. We are both taking a chance."

"And will that chance involve sex?"

He smiled. "When you spoke with Andrei he required you to use Sir."

"Well, no, Sy suggested it."

"And you complied. I wish the same courtesy. Ask your question again."

I paused. I was being asked to step on a path that went somewhere unknown. I struggled with this for what seemed forever.

"Will this involve sex, sir?" 

"Yes, unless you leave right now. The longer you stay, the more tangled your emotions get. It won't be long before you want sex very badly."

I shivered, and willed myself to get up, but I didn't. "I... don't have sex with, um, men I don't know. Um, sir." I said, hesitantly.

"Today you will."

"And are you going to put me outside my comfort zone, like Andrei did, sir?"

Saying sir was having that weird effect. I felt small and weak.

"You're already outside it. Walking here did that. But I think you're asking me to push you a little, to force you to feel things. You have no idea what will happen when I do, whether what comes out will be anger or shame or need. I do know, though. So I will show you. Hold still."

He reached across the table, and very lightly, stroked my cheek with the back of his hand, and then, slowly, the other cheek. I blushed hard, this was in a hotel lobby and while I've done more blatant things at dances and raves, this was somehow much more... exposed.

He repeated the caress. I shivered again. There was aftershave on his hand. I... liked that.

He brushed his thumb across my lower lip, while looking into my eyes. I looked away, helplessly. "No, look at me," he said. I looked at him and he repeated the caress, very slowly. And again, and again... on the third stroke I was shivering with the effort not to kiss his thumb.

He removed his hand. "Now lick your lips, very slowly."

I was very aware of the fact that the hotel receptionist was staring at me, fascinated by what was happening. The fact that she could see this, made it real, not something I could ever say didn't happen. This was real. This was...

I licked my lips, slowly. Looking him in the eyes. And then suddenly looking down, blushing again, hot...

"Follow me." He stood up, gathered his laptop, and walked away.

A fork in the path, a decision to make. Follow or not? Each step he took away, I felt smaller and colder...

Suddenly I shook, and stood and followed him.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the hotel receptionist, staring at me, with a look of naked envy on her face. I walked faster.

+++

The elevator doors had already closed when I got to them, but I simply waited until I saw what floor it stopped at, and followed in the other elevator. When I got to his floor, I looked both ways, but he was not in sight. But I smelled aftershave and it was stronger to the right. I followed the corridor around a curve and saw him opening a door. He stepped though, closing the door behind him... I got there and knocked on the door, softly.

He opened it. "If you step in... you understand?"

I nodded, swallowed... and stepped through. 

+++

The door closed and the room was mostly dark, with shades drawn and lights off. One of his hands was suddenly in my hair, and the other touched my face again. 

"You'll submit to my demands. I'll go slowly. For now you'll only stand still and watch what I do. I'm going to open your blouse."

"Sir, wait, I..."

"Yes?"

"I, um, did not dress for this. It is not a very pretty bra, sir."

"Do you think even for a moment that the bra is of interest to me?"

"I- I guess-"

His hand opened each button in turn. I started at his hand, hypnotized. His fingers traced up my bare belly, and then over the bra and across the exposed parts of my breasts. I watched every slow touch of his fingers. I realized I was licking my lips again.

He brushed the blouse off my shoulders, stepped behind me and unhooked the bra. It slid away. Now I was in low heels and jeans.

He stepped in front of me and, without touching me, studied my face and torso. My nipples were hardening. I ached for him to say something. 

But he didn't speak, or touch me. He stepped away from me, wordlessly, and mixed himself a small drink. 

"W-what is it you want me to do, sir?"

"What was the last instruction I gave you?"

"To stand and watch sir."

"Then that is what you do."

He put ice in the drink, stirred it slowly, and looked over my body. I felt more naked than I was.

"Lean yourself back against the door and put your hands up, crossed at the wrist over your head."

I did. It was an erotic pose, exposed and somehow submissive, and my body responded. I was open to whatever touching he desired, and I desired to be touched.

He walked over, with that dark male smile that fucks with your head. Suddenly he caressed a nipple with the cold glass. I gasped – and then he took the cold glass away and replaced it with his hot mouth.

And then the cold glass again, and then his mouth again...

I moaned. As I did he bit down, gently, and my moan became a pathetic little whimper. Need, fear, longings. My hands were restless now. 

"D-d-don't you w-want me to touch you b-back," I whispered.

"I don't. Touch is a kind of control, Clarissa. Right now you are learning about being controlled. I'm in command of what you feel, where you look, what you can do. You will allow anything and ask for nothing."

I nodded, unsteadily. He set the drink aside and ran his hands lightly along my bare sides, and belly. 

"The pose you are in. How does it make you feel?"

"Embarrassed. Sexy. Slutty. Vulnerable."

"You missed a word, Clarissa."

"..sir!"

"A little reminder." His fingers rose to my nipples, and he twisted them, slowly. When they ached, he released them, and then flicked them with his fingernails. I gasped and then shivered as the sting shot through me. Then he sucked the nipples again, turning the sting into something different. I moaned again, arching more to press my nipple deeper into this mouth.

"Now remove the jeans and shoes and return to this pose."

"Y-y-y-y-y-es s-sir." I'd be in panties, nothing else. For a stranger. I'd never done that, and it was another fork in the road.

"Too much too fast, pretty girl?"

"Yes but... I-I'll – I can do it."

"Good girl."

I slipped off the shoes – even though the heels with low, this made me feel smaller – and opened the jeans. My eyes closed as I slid them down.

"Hands back over your head. Pose sexy."

Now I was leaning back against the wall, barefoot, hips thrust out. For a stranger. He was still in his suit. I suddenly remembered Sy saying he had to crawl for sex sometimes, and kiss Andrei's shoes. I looked down at Stefan's. Would he make me do that? Would I do it?

"You're wet," he said.

"Y-yes sir."

"You want to be touched."

"Yes sir."

"Where?"

"Wherever you like, sir."

"No, Clarissa. I asked you a question. Always answer honestly."

"I-I- I can't sir. I can't answer that. Girls don't- we can't, we're not supposed to say. It feels wrong. Please don't make me, sir."

"Now!"

"Breasts again," I gasped. "Thighs and belly. Everywhere but-"

"It's a fantasy, isn't it. Clarissa. Having to beg to be touched in that one place. Feeling so lost in need that you end up pleading..."

He stroked my belly, slowly. "You're a work of art. You need a little more discipline, but with that you could be quite pleasing.... Tilt your head back and part your lips."

He continued to stroke my belly. My panties were soaked. His fingers drifted lower, and my hips twitched, suddenly.

"Kissing me is a privilege, girl. But you can be kissed at any time. This is the oldest trick in the book... kissing a girl who cannot kiss back. You'll find it maddening."

He continued to stroke my belly as he kissed and licked my lips. Then his hand slid to my thighs, hips and ass, and he nibbled my lips. I shook and then my lips slid against his, desperately.

He broke the kiss. "Clarissa, don't dare to disappoint me. You are too early in the process for real punishments, so I'm going to have you punish yourself. You're going to hold that pose, but lower one arm and masturbate through the panties until told to stop."

"Sir, I- no one's ever watched me- sir, please-"

"Now."

Women are fine if they are in control of the timing of things. It's when a man starts saying words like Now that trouble starts. Whimpering, I lowered my hand and rubbed, gently. He returned to kissing my mouth and stroking by belly and breasts. In seconds I was moaning like an animal. 

His phone rang. He sighed, and stepped back. "Normally, no," he said. "But that is Andrei and it could be very important. Return your hand to over your head... Da, Andrei?"

The conversation was brief and in Romanian. I couldn't have focused on it anyway. I had never been this aroused before and I could barely stand. During the conversation he absently pet my breasts and toyed with my nipples.

He closed the phone. "What interesting timing," he said. "Andrei is about to give Sy some physical punishment. He offered to let me stop by watch – in part to make it more intense for Sy and in part because it is not a bad thing to have an extra pair of eyes involved. I declined of course... but I think you would benefit from seeing it. So Andrei will put it on camera.

"Sir please no. She's my roommate, it's just... please no."

"She doesn't care, I assure you. Andrei has had her on display before. I will tell you something about submission, pretty girl. Everything gets laid bare, and I don't mean your body. Intimacy is the least of what you'd call it. You can be made to see and feel things you'd never imagine, and you are unable to hide your reaction. That is a woman's last and best defense, hiding her emotions. So we take it away."

He fiddled with the laptop. "This will be a one way connection, so you and I can talk."

The screen came on. I could see the apartment. I could see Andrei, in a white shirt and jeans... and Sy, naked. Kneeling. Eyes down. Panting.

"Come here, Clarissa. Kneel on the floor in front of this chair, watching the screen."

I did, mesmerized. Sy was so pretty and she was so compliant as Andrei gently btu firmly guided her over his lap. It shouldn't be hot. It shouldn't be.

Stefan settled in the chair behind me, leaned forward and placed his lips against my ear. "I'll touch you as she's punished. Don't underestimate the impact. Women are wired to find a man taking charge of a woman's body deeply erotic..."

His fingers slid over me as I stared, horrified and fascinated. He pulled on my nipples, lightly and quickly... 

Andrei's hand came down on Sy's bared ass. She cried out, softly. 

"You can see how aroused she is," Stefan said. "I'd guess that Andrei has been playing with her responses for a few hours now. It makes the spanking more intense and effective."

Andrei's hand came down again. I shuddered as if he'd hit me. Sy whimpered, arching in his lap. I could see her nipples and how hard they were. 

"She's given him this right," he said. His hands were all over me now, and it was all I could do not to squirm and press myself against those hands.

Slap! I could see a pink handprint on her ass. I stared at it. He was marking her. She'd feel that tomorrow. She'd be unable to avoid thinking about his hands.

Suddenly Stefan pushed his hand into my panties, made a fist, and jerked it. The panties ripped. He settled a finger over my clit, and began a slow rubbing.

"You're taking to this well," Stefan murmured against my ear.

Another slap... and Stefan's finger pushed into me, and slid out again. I clenched helplessly on the retreating finger. Oh fuck!

"This is a simple and effective approach," he whispered against my ear. "By giving you pleasure every time you see her spanked, your body makes an association... I'm teaching you to take pleasure from a man's dominance of a woman's body. You'll dream of spankings tonight."

Another slap, and his finger curled inside me wickedly. I cried out, softly.

"Wh- Why are you telling me this, sir, doesn't it work better if I don't know?"

"It works better if you do know."

Andrei's hand sliced downward again, and I clenched in preparation. This time the finger pushing into me set off fireworks, and I shuddered. Sy's pretty body, her soft pleading words in Romanian, Andrei's expressionless face, the lips moving lightly against my ear... my body wouldn't hold still. I was shifting slowly and sensually. 

On the next slap, Stefan's tongue pressed into my ear as his finger curled and lingered inside me. I cried out. I was in flames now. Another slap, and I sobbed. "Please... I'm so turned on. Nothing's ever done this to me this fast."

"You will spend a long time burning," he said. "You'll only come if you please me."

"Then let me- oh fuck!" Andrei had slapped again, and Stefan had fingered me, pinched a nipple and licked my ear, all at once.

Suddenly Andrei pushed Sy off his lap and opened his jeans. And then he had her by the hair and she sucked him. Her frantic enthusiasm to please was not an act.

It hadn't really sunk in until then. Somehow I'd assumed that if Andrei did things to her she didn't like, she'd be sullen but put up with it. But there was nothing sullen about the way her mouth moved on his huge cock. Being punished only made her ache to please him more.

"He'll probably spank her more when he's come on her. But I think you get the point." He closed the connection and then pressed his finger up inside me again, leaving it in me, moving it slowly and roughly. "What struck you most about it?"

"H-how willing it m-made her to please h-hi – please, I can't think when you do that!"

"You forgot to say sir. Rub your clit as I finger you." 

"Please sir! It's too intense, please, I'll come!"

"Come and you'll get what she's getting."

My body turned traitor and I arched towards the fastest, darkest orgasm I'd ever known ever. But he took out his finger and forced by hand from my clit. I spasmed against him in frustration. "No, please! I need it! I always let myself come sir!" 

He rubbed my clit, stopped, rubbed again, stopped. "But I won't. Learning to beg makes it more intense, girl. So does this."

He ripped off his tie, fashioned it around my throat, and dragged my mouth against the front of his suit pants. "Please me with your mouth. Your hands can touch the chair, but not you or me. Please me if you want to earn your orgasm, girl!"

I had no idea what to do and I burned in shame as well as need. Guys hadn't been able to talk me into this... he got around that by skipping the discussion. I mouthed him frantically. My slit was clenching on nothing.

He pulled my head up with his tie. "Take it out."

I've always thought of cocks as handles. Ways to get a grip on a guy, levers to pull to get something. I like giving handjobs and listening to guys get frantic, while pretending I don't quite know what to do to get them to spill. Cocks have always been switches to me, with two positions, up and down.

But this was different. I thought of knives, lockpicks, battering rams... his cock was not something I would do things to; it was something that would do things to me. I stared at it and my legs got weak.

The tie around my throat pulled again. "Kiss it. No hands." I hesitated and he forced my mouth against it, and I closed my eyes and kissed and licked, feeling the hardness, tasting... 

He pulled me off again. There was a drop of his precum trickling across my lower lip, and I licked it up, slowly, provocatively, like a whore. I'd always suspected there was a slut deep inside me; she was dangerous, wild, and I'd kept her chained up. He was freeing her and once she tasted freedom there'd be no holding her back, ever again. Cock. She wanted to be pinned down and forced, she wanted to have no choice about giving pleasure and coming. She wanted to be called names and spanked and tied up. Fantasies that only came out late at night wracked my imagination – having my mouth raped, being passed back and forth between two men, having to take it up the ass while I sucked... he had to stop freeing her, he had to!

He forced my mouth against his cock again. I licked eagerly, moaning in horror at myself, terrified at how much I loved the fact that he was making me. "Let me stop, please sir-"

His hand was in my hair and he forced his cock deep into my mouth. "No! Now masturbate. Be pretty for me as you suck."

His cock filled my throat and I could not breathe, or think, but my hands slid seductively over my belly and I opened my legs wide. I could feel his eyes on me. He was looking at a hot, fuckable cocksucker and I wasn't sure how he'd found her but I suddenly couldn't make her leave. The chains were off. 




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 03



I couldn't let this happen. My head snapped back, but it was my own fingers moving on my clit and my hips rocked, inviting him to take and take and take-

"Sir I'll come – sir – sir please let me come I have to come-"

His cock choked me again, and without words there was no way to hide from the animalistic need-

"Now stop." he snapped, pulling away.

"PLEASE NO!"

Suddenly I was across his lap, naked, ass up, I'd never been spanked before, and his hand came down and I realized that the sensation that mattered wasn't my stinging skin, but the ruthlessness of him, the utter disregard for my personal space, his raw strength and ability to make me feel both pleasure and pain, and I writhed against him, wanting him to feel my breasts rubbing, see my legs tensing, I'd be so hot he'd have to fuck me, I needed to be fucked, held down and made to please, made to slut-

"Use me, please use me, sir please, fuck me, treat me like a plaything-"

"I give the commands, girl." He was so controlled, so icy calm, and I burned to make him rage the way my body was raging. His finger entered me again, moved, retreated. He was toying with me, and my belly clenched over and over, painfully. His finger moved faster in spite of my whimpering. His cruelty was infuriating and overwhelming. 

"Sir, please, I'm... there's something in me that isn't supposed to be seen- please!"

His hand came down again. My sob was a plea for more.

"You think I don't know? You think I can't see every slutty, repressed need? You think I don't know what you are? Your body is already my fucktoy, girl. But I want something a little more than that..."

One hand on my clit, another on my nipple, and the ruthless edging began. When Sy had described it to me I'd shivered inside, fearing what it would do to me. I'd been right. It was the most sensual agony imaginable and every time he denied me I gained a deeper understanding; it was his will that mattered, I needed to obey him-

The overwhelming tears began, slowly trickling. Then he pushed me off his lap and folded my body into a kneel, facing him. It was the worst thing in the world; I needed his touch and I couldn't bear that my incomprehensible tears were on display for him. It was what Sy had said. I had no more secrets. I ached to crawl back into his lap. He knew it, too.

He stroked his cock, slowly, and I stared helplessly. I wanted to touch it. It was impossible not to wonder what it felt like to him, how his need to bury himself in me was building. 

"Touch yourself again as you watch me."

I did. I had to do as he said to get back into his lap, to come, to feel his hands on me, to be taken by him, to have more of this impossible drug his will had become. In seconds I was shaking from the effort of stopping myself from crawling to him and rubbing myself against him. I wanted to make him want me more and more, until his control cracked and he demanded I let him use my body.

"Please," I said suddenly. "Please, I don't know what this is, what I am becoming. You're... I need to be touched. I need to be taken, kissed, I need to give. I've never felt this before and it scares me. I need to feel your hands on me and know you like what you feel. You're touching yourself and I hate it. I'm afraid you'll come. I want it to be me that makes you come. I'm terrified I can't please you. I've never tried to please anyone! I always wanted to be pleased. Sir, please, let me... let me... I want something I've never wanted before. I want to be... I don't have words. Used, but... I've had rape fantasies. This is different. I want to be... willing to be... is this like what Sy feels? How does she feel this without crying and begging? Please take pleasure in me!"

"Even if I'm gone tomorrow?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"Even if you don't come?"

"Yes," I said, almost voicelessly. The longing to please was as deep now as my need to come. And much more terrifying.

"Why?"

"Because I need to know who I am now, I didn't know I could be like this... please take pleasure in me and let me feel I pleased you. I didn't know I wanted this!"

"Lie back," he said. His hands laid me out. He was going to take me on the floor. My legs opened helplessly, reached up, caressed him. I crossed my wrists over my head again. His hands settled on my wrists and he pushed into me, still clothed, rough and animalistic.

The clothing on him... even if he'd freed my hands it meant I couldn't touch his skin. I didn't have the right.

When he came, I sobbed.

"What did you do," I whispered. But he only held his finger against my lips.

"It will take you a long time to understand," he said. "But you submitted. It wasn't the terrible thing you believed it was, but it's very... shattering the first time." His hands stroked me, slowly and lightly. My wrists were sore from his grip, my ass still got from his spanking. My hips would be sore from the way he'd pounded me against the floor. 

"I'm burning," I said.

His finger traced my lips. "I can see that."

"You're... not going to let me come, are you."

"Your orgasm is too important to you. Learn to take please in mine."

"I did. Very much. But I ache."

"Take off my shoes and socks, girl."

Shivering, I rolled to my side and obeyed.

With his bare foot, he pressed me back to the floor, on my back, and spread my legs open wide. I was shaking again. 

He pressed his foot between my legs, and rocked slowly. I was at his feet. It made me feel even more powerless than my spanking had.

"You're going to kiss and lick my feet, Clarissa. You're going to lick between my toes. You're going to masturbate the entire time. And when I snap my fingers you're going to look up into my eyes, and make yourself come."

Something in me whispered, at his feet like a dog. If you give him this he has you. Don't. Don't do it.

"Now, girl."

I curled, pressing my face against his foot. No, the whisper begged. You'll have nothing left.

My tongue stroked the side of his foot. I tasted salt. My arousal rocketed upwards and my hand crept, trembling, between my legs. A light caress and I was shaking. I was naked, masturbating, and at his feet.

Stop, the voice in me wailed. If you come you'll never get free.

"Touch faster."

I was shuddering now, touching quickly, firmly, and my tongue slid between his toes. Slut. Slave. Fucktoy. I was going to come so hard with those three words echoing in my head. Slut. Slave. Fucktoy. Slut. Slave. Fucktoy. Oh fuck no.

I'd be staring into his eyes when I came. Naked, everything exposed, to a stranger. Hot. Wrong. Bad. But hot was first. He'd used my body – I burned in shame and pleasure at the thought – and now he was coming for my mind. 

"Lick the other foot."

Shuddering, I did. Control. He was in control, he was used to that, he had authority. He pressed his big toe between my lips, and I whimpered. Entered. Violated. Hot.

He was going to tell me when to come. No one ever had. Women did what he said, and I was a woman. Girl after girl obeying him... I shuddered violently. I was going to come very soon. When would he snap his fingers? When would he... let me?

Run now, the voice whispered. You are out of time.

"You feel it," he murmured. "The feeling of enslavement. It's so addictive, isn't it..."

Yes. Addicted. I had to. No!

"You'll feel this over and over," he said, even more quietly, so I had to strain to hear. "Each time, more intense-"

The voice in me shrieked, and I bolted upright. Frantically, I dragged on jeans, blouse and shoes, leaving behind the bra and ruined panties, and bolted for the door. As I slammed it behind me I heard his laughter, amused and mocking.

+++

The library. My books were there. But I couldn't stay there, he knew where that was. I needed a place to be and Elena didn't have a roommate today. I'd hide there. I was still shaking as I collected my books and was only getting calmer when I knocked on Elena's door.

"Clarissa," a voice said behind me. In, of course, a Romanian accent. Shaking again, I whirled to see Andrei. I'd been so stupid! Sy had suggested Elena's room to me and she was on their side! 

"Hi. Stay back. I'm- I'm just visiting a friend, no time to talk."

"The girl who lives there is not a home. She's with Sy, running an errand."

"You did that!"

"Yes, I did. Come back to your room. Being braless does work on you but I think you'll be more comfortable when you holster them again."

"You hideous bastards, fucking with a girl's brains-"

He walked away.

"Don't you fucking walk away from me! I'm not done telling you what a bastard you are!"

Down the hall he went, and he got to my door, took out a key and let himself in. Shit!

I stormed after him, went through the door-

The door slammed behind me and suddenly I was on my knees with his hand a fist in my hair. But once he had me there he stepped back. It hadn't even hurt.

"That's for obscenity in my presence. I don't allow that from any girl. But you aren't my girl so that's as far as correcting you is going to go. You're not my problem."

I got up. "I'm not anyone's problem!"

"True enough. You've decided that you are your problem alone. How lonely you must be."

"Don't you f-"

His eyes... I didn't finish that word.

"Don't you tell me what to feel," I said.

"I'm not. I'll telling you what you do feel. Now calm down. I have no plans to take charge of you. Stefan might, he seems to like you, may the heavens help you."

"He's a bastard! You're all bastards!"

"Yes. Do you know why?"

I just stared at him, thrown off balance by the question. "Um. Bad upbringing?"

"Careful what you imply about my father. And no. I'm a bastard because that's what gets me what I want. I have Sy. She is mine."

"She's not property!"

"She gave herself to me. You decide if that's property or not. Have you ever given yourself to anyone?"

"Shit, no! I'm not a commodity to be handed out like a prize to some man!"

He eyed me. "Com-modity. Common good, yes? I'll agree you're no commodity. But you are a prize, to be won or lost. You don't think of yourself that way, but it is how men think of you. We always have and we always will and you can't change that. Until you accept that you're stuck with boys." 

Wordless, I flew into my bedroom and changed. Even after forty minutes of storming around the campus I was still visibly aroused and I chose a padded bra, and a fucking pad because I was still so wet. My baggiest sweatshirt and loosest sweatpants completed the look.

I dumped out my backpack and sat down and studied. It lasted all of two minutes and then I was back in the living room staring at Andrei. "I'm not Sy," I raged. "I'm not like her. I like nice men."

"But you need ruthless ones. Stefan tells me you were very natural in your submissive behavior. What is the word. Authentic."

"Fuck Stefan!"

His hand was in my hair and I was on my knees again, and this time his had connected with my ass sharply. "No obscenity and no insults to my family and friends, Clarissa!"

I tried to rise and he prevented it. "Do you have any idea how many laws you are breaking," I yelled. "This is America. You can pull this crap in Romania. Not here. Let go of me or I scream for the police."

"Do you think you can refrain from talking like a drunk Russian sailor? I know you are upset but you must speak like a woman when you are with a man."

"Fuck your idea of what a woman is!"

"I do, when I'm with Sy," he said darkly. "Because she is a woman. You're a girl. I think Stefan wasted his air fare."

"He fucking well did, you asshole! I'm a woman and I define what a woman is!"

He dropped his hand from my hair and turned away, gathering up his keys.

"No, that's where you have it completely wrong. That's your whole, what is the word, misunderstanding. Men and woman are defined by each other, according to their needs and instincts. Each creates an ideal the other tries to reach. Men are just more annoying in their definitions. But you're a long way from understanding that. I'm going out. When Sy arrives tell her I'm with Stefan."

"Call her yourself!"

"No, I'm not going to intrude on her girl time. She needs that. Good day, Clarissa."

He swept out. I stormed into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and then burst into tears. Men were such bastards, no wonder I liked boys!

+++

I huddled in my room, trying to read. The apartment door opened.

"-Sure you don't want to come in? Brownies are available."

"How the hell do you eat brownies and stay so thin? No, don't tell me. It's going to be something like an hour of exercise a day and I just don't have the discipline, so why ask? But I can't. Come in I mean. I have to study. With Kathy gone I can finally get stuff done, not that I mind her chatter but there's no off switch when she gets going about her boyfriend. Did you know he refused to take her out for valentine's this year? If you've been anywhere within a hundred feet of her in the last six months you know all about it. And it says something that she calls him Little Dick. Sy you have no idea how lucky you are with that boy back home, he's not here all the time to make you miserable but he's here when you want him, I mean that's so perfect. You have to tell me your secrets for managing him-"

I growled into my pillow. If there was a chatterbox anywhere on campus it was Elena. She was talkative even by Girl Standards; Sy was relatively quiet and they got along because between them they got to the correct average number of words per day. She was also the worst goodbyer ever, and it was a safe bet she'd still be here forty minutes and two brownies later. I put in earphones and blasted some old Coldplay songs and pretended social welfare policy was the most fascinating topic ever.

Forty minutes later I gave it up, and went to get a glass of apple juice. Elena was still here and was still signaling "I know I have to go but there's three more interesting topics and two more summations to get through", so I just waved and got my juice. Even Sy was looking a tiny bit glazed at this point.

"Oh hi Clary, you have to hear about this. Sandy is planning another party, and she's got this weird thing going where they guys are all like kind of blind dates and there's like a lottery for which girl they go out with after the party, and it sounds kind of interesting but also kind of stupid, because-"

"Yeah, that sounds dumb," I said, a little more sharply than I intended. "Girls need to pick their boys. You let guys decide these things and you get a mess."

"Well that's just it, you roll dice and then match up with-"

"Ha, just going out with a guy is enough of a roll of the dice for me. Maybe you can talk Sy into it though? I mean she never gets to our parties."

"As much as I'd love to," Sy said, looking at me pointedly, "I just can't see myself raffled off to some boy, and really how would I explain it to Andrei."

"Oh Sy, you're so loyal!" Elena giggled. She took another bite of brownie. "These are soooo good. Which mix did you use?"

At that moment they door swung open and Andrei and Stefan walked in. Elena, who had apparently never met either, just stared, having forgotten to swallow.

"Good evening," Andrei said. "I think you must be Elena?"

Elena nodded. It was the first time I could remember her not talking and I had to admit she was improved by the silence.

"Hello then, Elena. I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I need Sy's attention. Now, please."

Elena looked like she'd been hit by a sandbag. She just stared at him for another second, nodded meekly, and scooted though the door. Stefan closed it behind her.

"Andrei..." Sy said. "People here are not used to your... ways."

"She'll get used to me in time."

I turned to leave, so they could all be Romanian together. Romanian, I decided, was my new word for assholes and the sex slaves who loved them.

"Clarissa. I'd like you to stay," Stefan said.

"I couldn't possibly." And I meant it. 

"I don't ask things twice."

"Good!"

"You're not angry at me, you know. You are angry at your reactions."

"Stefan," Sy said softly, but firmly. "I am not certain this has ever been explained to you, but stating the obvious to an upset female doesn't really do as much to calm them as men seem to think."

He raised an eyebrow. "Rein in your girl," Stefan said to Andrei.

"No. She's right," Andrei replied. He turned to me. "Clarissa, I also wish you to stay. There are things to discuss."

"Like what?"

"Bridesmaids."

"Why- oh." I looked at Sy, who brought her hand out from behind her back with a shy little happy smile. It glittered. I stared at it. "Didn't you say you were going to finish your education first."

"She will. She's doing very well. The wedding is two years off still." Andrei said.

"I, um, can't travel to Romania for a wedding," I said. This wasn't fair. I'd been all mad but engagement ring on finger trumps everything else even when it's not your finger.

"We plan a ceremony in the states, after the one in Romania. We will settle here."

Well of course. She had the looks and the rich nobility boyfriend, so why not two weddings? 

"What... prompted this?" I said.

Andrei looked blank, and Sy translated prompted into Romanian for him. "Oh. There are men in Romania who find Sy attractive. A few are richer than I am... I need to get her off the market, as you say it, before her attention wanders."

"So no more parties for Sy?"

"By custom the engaged are not invited to those gatherings you aren't even supposed to know about. Don't worry, she's already admitted to talking about that and she's been spanked."

I looked at Sy. "You... didn't tell Elena."

"She was here for almost an hour and didn't notice the ring. Maybe if she had I would have mentioned it..."



I recovered myself and hugged Sy. Which would have been fine if she hadn't whispered in my ear, "Maybe you are next." I stepped back, feeling icy again.

"Will you spank her after she's married?"

"By then I'm sure she won't need it," he smiled. Even Sy rolled her eyes at that one.

"I... see. Of course I'd love to be a bridesmaid." And never a bride because men, ick. 

"Thank you. You're to be paired with Stefan, of course."

"But of course." Mustn't ruin the moment for Sy.

"And the bridesmaids are to be naked," Stefan said.

"I'd be happy t- WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Stefan and Andrei dissolved into laughter. Sy rolled her eyes again. "As if any bride is going to allow herself to be upstaged like that."

"It's been done," Andrei said. "But it's not in my plans. Now please excuse Sy and myself, there are a few details to discuss privately." He rose and headed into Sy's bedroom, followed by Sy. 

Stefan smiled at me.

I smiled back and headed for my own room. Suddenly Stefan was between me and the door.

"We also have things to discuss."

"Not really. You'll be in the traditional dark suit and I'm sure Syiera will opt for midnight blue taffeta for the girls." I thought that was a pretty good reply.

"Dress is likely to be Romani, if they can arrange it here. But to a more important topic: you looked good at my feet."

"I'm sure many girls have."

He considered this. "Some more than others."

"Look, I'm very sorry I have you the wrong impressions. I have never done anything like that in my life and it will never happen again, and I'm sorry if I got your hopes up though to be completely honest just flying yourself out here to meet a girl in a picture just seems creepy and desperate and now that I'm sane again I have no idea how I decided to go to the hotel but it's never going to happen again-"

His hand caressed my cheek, lightly. I stepped back, enraged. "Stop!"




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 03



"No. You are too used to people who do whatever you tell them. All those stories about hot blooded gypsy men? There's one in the room with you."

"About that. Gypsies are poor. You are not. How are you a gypsy?"

"Feh. A true gypsy would never call me one. I am part gypsy, which doesn't count in gypsy culture. The same with Sy. Andrei isn't gypsy at all."

"Fine. Don't step forward. I just met you. I was stupid but I'm sane now. I want you to leave."

"Look into my eyes, Clarissa."

"Why?"

"I asked you to."

"I'm not afraid of you!"

"Then why will you not look into my eyes?"

"Fine, I-"

As I did, he snapped his fingers.

Instantly I was remembering what had been about to happen when I left him the last time. He'd told me he'd snap his fingers and I'd look into his eyes and I'd come.

I didn't come but the wave of arousal that hit me literally left my legs so weak I staggered. He stepped forward and pulled me against him, one hand at the small of my back and another in my hair, holding me up, forcing my head back so I had to look into his dark, dark eyes. "Don't look away," he said. "Look deeper."

I don't know why I obeyed, but I did, and my body was wracked by need. He was hard against me, his stiff member tight against my belly. I tried to take my eyes away from his, and I couldn't.

"You will please me again and this time you will feel pleasure in return. You will not run. You will yield."

"No," I said, voicelessly, shaking. And then, "What's wrong with me?"

"I will show you." 

He pushed us both into my room.

+++

He was a passionate and insistent kisser. His hand was in my hair and he forced kisses from me, while his other hand swept down my back and forced my body against his, over and over. I'd have been fine if I hadn't been on the verge of orgasm when I fled from him earlier, but now my body was in flames and I couldn't think. He knew exactly what to do with a pretty girl; lots of practice, I assumed. 

Suddenly he spun me around and pulled me backwards against him. "Let's start over from the beginning," he hissed in my ear. "Feel my hands. Feel the way they touch you."

"No," I whispered, but it was only a word and he ignored it. For years I'd been taught that No means No and it's not ok to ignore No, and any boy that didn't honor that was a rapist. It was infuriating to hear myself say no and realize that I didn't mean it so why should he believe me? 

He cupped my breasts, and then he snarled. "Padded bra. As if you needed one." His hands were under my sweatshirt and he hauled the bra up, roughly, and then his hands were on me, feeling, squeezing, his had palms grinding against my nipples. Those hands had spanked me and somehow that changed everything. His hands mattered. I arched into them, and then my head went back and he kissed my mouth again, lips and tongue forcing my mouth to give him what he wanted. "Can't think," I said, dazed, against his lips, and he growled at me for speaking. And then one hand dove into my pants, and a finger forced inward.

My knees gave out entirely. We sank to the floor and he pinned me down, raping my mouth with his tongue and my pussy with his finger, and I learned what happens when you almost come and stop and then are touched again. I was out of control, my legs opened and my hips tilted. His fingers moved to my clit, then back inside me... everything ached and burned and it was all I could do not to beg for more. The late night fantasies were back, but now I was living one, the man who took, demanded, forced a young girl to feel things she didn't know about – my hips tilted up further, he twisted around and sucked a nipple roughly, painfully, and every muscle in me tensed, I couldn't stop, there was only more and faster-

I came in that slow, violent way that takes away all control of your limbs and slams you again and again against the floor. My noises were guttural and raw, and when my eyes were closed all I saw was his dark, demanding gaze. 

Then I was panting frantically and he was straddling me, his cock was out, and he snarled "cup your breasts." I did and he came on them, quickly, forcing my head up so I had to watch the thick white splashes mark me. As soon as he was done he curled back against the side of my bed, pulled me to him, and ran his fingers over my breasts until they were sticky, and forced me to lick them clean. I was shuddering and gasping, not with desire, simply with shock. He was overwhelming. Then my face was against his chest and his eyes closed. 

"Better," he whispered.

"B-better than what?"

"Then feeling hungry and interrupted and frustrated. Now a little quiet please, I just want to feel you curled against me."

"I can't, cuddling does things to a girl-"

"So will the flat of my hand, on your ass, if you can't be silent for a few minutes."

So I cuddled, feeling myself being drawn in to him, but too shattered by the experiences to stop it. I had a lot to say and holding my tongue was very, very hard. He wasn't much for pillow talk, I thought wryly.

After a few minutes he said, softly, "good girl," and he kissed my ear. I hid my face in his chest; I could not look at his eyes.

"You're not supposed to treat women like that."

"If I wasn't supposed to, you wouldn't respond so very, very hard. I get it, Clarissa. You're terrified. You've never had someone else call the shots, as you put it, and you are very shocked to find you respond the way you do. But I'm not surprised."

"You act like all women are like that."

"They aren't. But all the ones I like are, and there are more like you than you think. A lot of women respond to demands and insistence and strength. Sy eats out of Andrei's hand because he demands things. He does allow her choices, but he never makes her take control. And so he gets to marry her. He's done pretty well for himself. I'd like to do as well someday."

I didn't like the fact that I actually asked myself if I could make a man as happy as Andrei seemed with Sy. I liked it even less that I knew very well that "a man" was code for "this man." Girls, I was starting to realize, didn't just talk in code to each other; they did it to themselves.

"Uh... you came all over me."

"You're welcome."

I ignored that. "Uh... I need another shower."

"No."

"No?"

"Wear it. All night. Lie in that bed tonight and smell it."

"Where will you be?"

"Depends on how you behave. Maybe next to you."

"You leave in what, a day or two?"

"I can be here longer, or less. If you want to make it worthwhile I would stay longer. I'm here because I thought you might be interesting, I told you that. I have no idea what happens, but I'm not a girl so I'm not going to worry about it. If something good happens, it happens."

"And if not, there are other girls?"

"Thousands. Millions. You're pretty cute though."

"Males are fucking annoying."

"This is the very last time I will mention your use of language to you. Romanian women can all curse like rejected Russian whores – but never in front of a man, unless they want to feel the back of a hand driving them to the ground."

"You're not in Romania."

"I bring Romania with me wherever I go. Right now, you are in Romania; I carried you away in the night."

Corny as it was it got a shiver out of me. He knew it, too.

"This is all Sy's fault. She talks too much."

"She's one of the least talkative girls I know."

"Ok, yeah. She talks too... significantly. Sh- Stuff she says, matters, all the time. No girl is like that."

"Andrei really has done well for herself."

"Jealous?"

"It doesn't work that way. I just have to outdo him. Pride, not jealousy, is my sin."

"Yeah, well, Sy is hotter than I am."

"I'm not even going to, what is the phrase, dignify that with a response. I can play the cold macho male and agree with you, and then you'll be all angry and I won't be here tonight, but at least you'll pay more attention to your makeup next time. Or I can be all romantic and spend ten minutes on your beauties, and eight minutes in you'll be bored because you have heard it before."

"You do this a lot."

"What?"

"Move in on girls. Mess with them, talk them down, spread their legs."

"I used to do it a lot. But when you get good at a game it's not a challenge. So not so much anymore."

"Am I just a fuck toy?"

"Right now, yes. I barely know you, Clarissa. You're fun to force into a sexual orgy of need. Metaphor may be mixed on that one. But you may be more."

"You're scary as f-"

He put a finger over my mouth.

"Um, anything," I said. "Look, cursing happens in this country."

"It diminishes you. You don't hear me curse often. In part because I'm not convincing in English, but mostly because I don't need to."

"Have you ever called a girl a cunt?"

"I don't know that word."

"Pizdă," Sy said through the door. "Doesn't work the same way in Romanian, though. Curvă comes a little closer."

She was listening? "Holy shit, Sy, this is not a conversation I want y- OW!"

That handprint was going to still be there tomorrow. I whimpered.

"I just happened to be passing by. Andrei wants a brownie. You two making friends?"

I eyed Stefan's hand. "Of course, dear," I said in code.

"Good, good. You'll learn about the cursing, don't worry."

Her footsteps moved off.

"Why did you ask about that word?" Stefan murmured against my ear. I shivered. Intimacy after a slap was... I didn't know what it was but it worked.

"I promised myself, no boys for me, who use that word to refer to a woman."

"Oddly, I don't use it. Curvă probably isn't as insulting as your word but it means a woman who will do it with just about anyone and I very much avoid those girls, so I don't need the word too often. I used to use it to describe Andrei occasionally..."

"And no more?"

"Pah. He's smitten. He has been for awhile. No more dragging women into the dirt and turning them into begging little playthings for him."

"But you still get to."

"Yes. And you'll like being a begging little plaything occasionally, Clarissa. The mistake is to treat you that way when you're not in bed. That is where men in my country sometimes get it wrong."

I fell silent. Begging little plaything. It would be a horrifying thing to say to someone if it wasn't for the fact that I'd just come like an animal. His assurance and arrogance worked. 

It was one thing that it worked on Sy, that made her pitiable. It worked on me. And since I couldn't possibly be pitiable, that just made me... what. Wicked? Stupid?

"You got me to come." I said. "But you're still wrong about me. Today is just... what are you doing?"

What he was doing was opening my legs and getting his hand between them. I laughed. "Sorry, but no. I came like crazy. And now I'm done. If you think you're so good that you can coax me into another orgasm you need to think again. I don't want one."

He looked up at me, with a dark smile. "The same mistake over and over. You think sex is about what you want. You think men are supposed to coax you. Isn't it funny that what makes you scream is when they make you."

"I'm not into rape!"

"But I'm not talking about rape. I'm talking about making you need it. You know what I mean. Deep in the heart of every woman is the fantasy about the man that compels her sexuality. That forces her to feel what she fights feeling." Suddenly one hand was in my hair, his favorite handle, and the other was between my legs. "Close your eyes and do not open them. I've already showed you what happens when you have to look in my eyes. Now you're going to feel what happens when you aren't allowed to look at all." His hand forced my head back. "Now, Clarissa!"

I should have been furious and I wanted to be, but I gasped and my eyes closed. It had something to do with the fact that he'd spanked me. And something to do with the soft sounds that were starting to come from Sy's room. Soft, desperate sounds... And something to do with the fact that his come was on me.

He caressed me, very slowly. When your eyes are closed you become aware of things you'd never pay attention to otherwise, and when you are with a relative stranger it's magnified off the charts. The sound of his breathing, the smell of cum. The roughness of the skin on his hand against my thigh. The faint, faint sounds of what might have been begging or moaning from Sy. Warmth. The sensation of his strength, the gentle string of the grip in my hair. My smallness. His... largeness. I imagined his hands, his gaze, his... cock. Suddenly I wanted to see him, see his expression. Was he looking at me? Where and how? Was he smiling, or was it that terrible fixed, focused expression guys get? More warmth... I'd already come. His fingertip couldn't be having that effect on me. Where was he looking at me? I had to know!

"What are-"

"No words, Clarissa."

That was terrible! I wasn't too talkative, I was no Elena, and if he was going to go around cumming on me we at least had to get to know each other!

"I'm a girl. We talk."

"Not right now you don't. Feel, don't think."

But that was just it, that was it exactly. Talking blunted the feelings. Why did he think females talked? If we don't talk our emotions build up, and up, and up – oh. He knew that. That was what he wanted.

I could feel my body arching again. I told myself it was to relieve some of the pressure from my hair but... I was showing off my breasts. I couldn't see where he was looking... so I'd make him look where I wanted.

It worked. He hand shifted, moving upwards, sliding lightly and slowly over my breasts. Just stroking, over and over. Warm. His palm was hard, a little rough... my nipples reacted. That tiny tightening, the little warning sign that your body was beginning to... want.

My body. Boys looked, at least when Sy wasn't around. They noticed the long legs, the curve of my breasts. I was glad my breasts were spaced apart a little. It meant I didn't show a ton of cleavage and I know some guys are all about that but I think it makes for a fuller look from the side, and Stefan wasn't complaining. Maybe I shouldn't have lured his hands there... my clit was staring to miss the attention-

Oh shit. He had me wanting his hands. Once you want a guy's hands... I shivered, suddenly. And I did. I wanted more touching. I wanted... 

Sys moaned urgently in the background. She was probably being teased. Made to want and want and want until I could not think. Until she could not think.

His lips were suddenly against my ear. "Do you hear Andrei tormenting Sy?"

Pay attention to me, you bastard!

"A little."

His fingers closed on a nipple. Slowly. The prick of pain, turning into something else... something warm. My head fell back a little further and my ear brushed his lips. Erotic....

"Touch yourself," he whispered, keeping his lips brushing the soft inside of my ear. "Slowly. I'm going to whisper to you as you do. You'll listen without speaking or making any noise at all. I want you very focused on listening."

I shook my head no, but his hand tightened in my hair and that was all it took. My hand slid downwards. His shifted, bringing my body against his, leaning me back. His thumbs moved along the sides of my breasts. My nipples were very hard and it was difficult not to shift to move his thumbs over them.

"Girls don't see their bodies as men see them. We see your body as a think to touch and toy with. We want to possess it. We're not art connoisseurs. We want to manipulate your sensations so we can get to your mind. Feel my thumbs, stroking... we both know you want them on your nipples. By stroking slowly, I build up anticipation, hunger... maybe I'll touch them this time. Or this time. We both want them there. We both know what you'll feel when it happens. That warm rush of sensation, almost confusion, and the way it intensifies what you're doing to yourself... slowly, the need gets more urgent. You feel so much now. You're so aware of your body. You can feel it shifting, loosening, getting softer, arching up... you're making yourself more fuckable, Clarissa. It's maddening, the way my thumbs brush so close, closer and closer, but... the next time you lick your lips I'll take them in my fingertips, and twist, gently. And now your focus is on your lips, isn't it. They feel dry. Did you just hear Sy sobbing? She's easily made desperate for orgasms. Slowly, you'll become like that. Hungry for pleasure but dependent on a man for it. Maybe me, Clarissa. Maybe the man who's cum is all – oh, you licked, pretty girl. So now you'll get... this..."

I bit back a noise that would have given everything again – and then remembered that he could see everything. A woman who cannot hide what she feels is the most helpless and vulnerable thing on earth. Men don't give a fuck about being naked because it doesn't show a lot that you didn't already guess. But a woman's revealed body reveals every emotion, urge and instinct. Clothing is a place to hide. I had no shelter.

His fingers tightened. I stopped touching myself. "You win," I said. "You got me hot. You proved your point."

"Keep touching," he hissed angrily.

My hand twitched but I'm not that easy. "I'm more than my orgasms."

"And when you're shivering because you finally understand that you are not in control of your sexuality when you are with me, you won't be able to hide those other parts. If I'm going to know you at all, it's going to be inside and out. You're used to being uninvolved, above it all, anyone can see that. To misuse an Americanism, you have no skin in the game in your relationships. So I'm going to make you vulnerable, make you needy, make you just a little frightened about what happens next and what I demand from you. Making you beg for release is just a little part of all that."

Sy's voice called urgently from her room: "Please – please- please- please-"

Stefan's cock was pressed against me and I felt it shift because of her noises. "Touch yourself," he snarled. My hand slid back over my clit. Fireworks. Being pushed was hot. Very hot. Very, very-

"Whisper back to me: I'm fuckable."

That got a whimper from me. Saying that... it's an admonition of everything a woman wants to be and can never say. It says "take me now" and we're never allowed to say that, they always have to climb over one more barrier to fuck us, because otherwise they've won... the word echoed in my head. Fuckable. It meant wet, pretty, exposed... helpless.

He pinched the nipples brutally. "Say it now. Now, Clarissa! Now." 

"I-I'm.. fuckable," I whispered. I pictured my own body, arching, legs apart, eyes wide, hands over my head, everything begging-

"Again."

"I'm fuckable," I moaned. Ready to take cock, no matter how rough and demanding and brutal he chose to be. Hips tilted, begging; breasts presented, lips wet for kissing, skin sensitive, ears focused on his every breath, moving to please him, hair gripped, yielding, yielding so deep-

"I have to come," I cried out. "I'm fuckable and I have to come!"

His hands, his spanking, gripping, unafraid, demanding hands shifted again, fingers slid into me without warning-

"I have to come," I begged. "Please!"

"Not yet," he hissed, deep and evil, and he forced his tongue into my mouth, raping it in time to the movement of his fingers. I tried to kiss back but this wasn't about me, it was about what he could do to me. "Please!" I shrieked against his hot, rough mouth. "Please – please- please-"

He pushed me flat to the floor. My legs parted wide, raised up, toes sliding helplessly on the floor. Is there a slut inside every girl? Or was I the worst girl in the world?

"Please what," he growled, positioning myself over me.

Even now the words wouldn't come. I'd never said them. I'd never had to. I'd never believed any girl but a complete slut ever needed to say them. He was making me, making me into a-




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 03



The words tore free. "P-P-Please! Fuck me!"

He pushed in without hesitation. "Satisfy me," he growled. 

Legs stroking him, arched, struggling weakly under the grip he pinned my wrists with, and my hips, dancing for him, I was a slut and I was going to come from this and then he'd- he'd have-

His lips were against my ear again. "Please me fucktoy. Please me. Give me everything. Please me before you even think of coming."

Distantly I heard Andrei coming, Sy still pleading. And then Stefan's frantic, eager breath at my ear, grunts and moans, fuck I love the sound of an aroused male, they sound so out of control, so brutal, so very, very focused on their prey-

"Coming! Please! Holding it back hurts!"

He just fucked me faster. He'd come before, he wouldn't come quickly, and I was a blind, tormented, aching plaything until he did- until I pleased him- I had to please him-

"Fuck me," I sobbed. "Anything you want. Please I'm dying!"

He bit the side of my throat, and helplessly, I came. "Oh f-f-f-f YES! S-sorr- Oh YES, YES, YES!-"

He came, but I was barely aware of him. I rocked for him, shuddered-

And, um, kind of passed out a little.

"Hi," he said. I was curled against him. I was pretty sure it had only been moment but I wasn't totally sure. The blindfold was off and I wasn't in the same position. "I,um... kind of spaced."

"Yeah, just for a few seconds. That surprised me. You have very intense orgasms. I like that, of course. Very flattering."

There was a knock on the door. He looked over. "What is this?" It wasn't even his room.

"Stefan? Classy? Andrei wishes me to speak to Clarissa if she is available."

"I'm n-" but then Stefan's hand was over my mouth.

"She is, but my price is one brownie."

I was going to have to get that recipe down. Brownies are clearly everything when it comes to interpersonal relationships. In the meantime considered biting Stefan's hand, but now that I was done coming like a slut in heat, I realized my ass was already sore and sex on the floor has been a bad idea, and getting myself spanked again was an even worse one.

"Will you negotiate?" Sy asked through the door. "Half a brownie?"

I shook Stefan's hand off. "I'm worth a full brownie, damn it!"

Stefan chuckled. "Half will do, but you have to bring it to me naked."

"You pig!" I blurted. His hand covered my mouth again, and now I couldn't breathe.

Sy opened the door. She was naked, smiling, and had a brownie in her hand. Apparently she'd anticipated the demand. She made a lavish display of breaking it in half and bowed (over me, no less) to hand half to Stefan. He chucked again, uncovered my mouth, and stuffed half of the half in before I could say something that would have gotten me a totally undeserved spanking.

I was supposed to be pissed. Girls after sex often were; I'd heard about it a lot. I'd felt it myself, a kind of irritated impatient tetchiness that didn't quite get as far as "Leave me alone!" but instead wanted to keep being bitchy as long as possible. 

"Well," Stefan said, stretching. "Time for some phone calls anyway. Enjoy your chat."

I stared at him as he walked out, brownie already swallowed. I delicately removed mine and hunted around for a night shirt. Sy just sat on my bed and curled herself into an annoyingly peaceful lotus position. "You and Stefan seem to be getting on." she said.

I pulled the nightshirt over me and glared at her. "He's annoying."

"Mhhm. I could tell."

"Sy... we need to talk about this. You just... say shit. Personal shit. Without batting an eyelash. I mean... you know?"

"I don't," she said, serenely. "Are you one of those people who uses TP for toilet paper?"

She knew perfectly well I was. "Could you be a little less... um... serene... all over my bed?"

"Don't worry, I blotted up."

"Arrrgh! That's exactly what I mean."

"I know. I was taught this, okay? I was taught to be straightforward when I speak. It doesn't come naturally, but it turns out it's a lot healthier and works better in relationships. Just... say stuff. Except for expletives."

"You, Stefan... you can't all make me Romanian in a day."

"Meh, this a subculture in Romania, and probably everywhere. And believe me, being good for a man takes more than a day."

"But it makes you less of a person!"

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? Thinking about what pleases him. What about thinking about you, pleasing yourself?"

"Do I seem unhappy to you?"

"That's why it's creepy!"

"Listen," she said. "I learned to bake to please people. You don't see me eating many brownies. I make them for other people. You don't think that's creepy."

"It's maybe a little domestic," I said. "But cooking... if you want kids someday cooking becomes important. And I've seen Guy Cooking, no thanks."

"But it's just the same."

"No. Guys don't even wash the damn spoon before-"

"Stop, that's not what I meant. Learning to cook to please someone else, just as a useful skill. Everyone thinks that's ok. But learning to be pleasing in a relationship, that is not ok? I'm still me, whether I'm a good cook or a good partner. And for Andrei, being a good partner means taking a submissive role. Well, I can do that. I enjoy it. And I think Andrei is worth being submissive to. I believe he earns it."

"He'd have to be perfect!"

"He isn't and no man ever is. Sometimes I have to be forgiving. But that's true in any relationship."

"Sy I can't wrap my head around it. Look let's just be honest. Stefan just took me apart, sexually. He's gorgeous and confident and I'd swear he knows what I'm going to feel before I do."

"That would not surprise me. And yes, I heard you, um, coming apart. That's why I asked to be here. There was no one with me after my first few experiences of that sort and I could have used someone. Everything you believe, everything you think you know, tells you you were just, what are the words even, weak and slutty. But the more you felt that way, the harder you came, I know it very well. So do they. There are no secrets in my world."

"I need secrets! That's how I stay safe!"

"Orgasms are better if you feel a tiny bit unsafe."

"Sy he made me beg," I said, with sudden tears in my eyes. "I don't even know him. The first time, in his room, that was me, experimenting. But this time he just took charge. I don't even know how! I feel hypnotized, entranced, and I'm afraid to want more!"

My last words just... hung there. I'd actually said that I wanted this?

"But you'll want it more and more, even with the fear."

"You called it addictive."

"It is. You just... let go. It's freedom. Free to feel, all responsibilities but obedience set aside. It's like finding a quiet, beautiful room to be in; but he is the room and you are the beauty. You are showcased by his will, you are allowed to give all you can without shame. Oh Classy, you are a long way from this yet. You have to trust him for any of this and you can't trust that much that fast, no one can. But I wanted someone here to understand this world of mine. And now I know you have at least seen it, tasted it. But I came to ask if you are ok and I kind of haven't. Are you?"

"I'm scared."

"But not of Stefan."

"Well, a little of Stefan. But I'm trying to be honest with myself here. I'm much more afraid of what's getting set loose in me. He's not going to stay and I don't know anyone like him, so what if I do learn to like it? Whatever is it?"

"Submission," she said, shrugging. "Then you learn to like it. He will sleep with you tonight, I think. I hope for your sake he lets you touch him. It is very hard when they don't. But now I need Andrei again. He... was ruthless, and after that I crave his affection and kisses."

She unfolded and walked out. She had in fact left a little wet spot on the bed, and I sighed in annoyance. She was such a slut.

I grumbled something I couldn't say I Stefan's presence, and took another shower.

+++

I studied the rest of my day. In my room. I skipped dinner. No one came in and I didn't go out, and I was thankful I had private access to the bathroom.

At 10pm, Stefan came in.

"Yes?"

"Bedtime."

"Almost. Thank you for the reminder." Cold and aloof, that's me.

"Any time." 

He got undressed.

"Excuse me," I said politely. "What are you doing?"

"Undressing. For sleep." He said. There was a tiny glint in his eye; he was enjoying playing my game.

"Won't you be uncomfortable walking to your room naked?"

"I would be if that happened. I think you should remove the night shirt or whatever you call that shapeless thing. It is not flattering."

He folded his clothing neatly on top of my hamper, and climbed into bed. I ignored how well he was put together and how... toned he was. He drew the sheet over himself, and lay there on his back, eyes closed. It wasn't a large bed and it looked much smaller with him in it.

"You haven't even asked my rates yet." I was seething. It didn't show of course.

"I know them. One brownie." He murmured. There was a tiny smile on his face. 

"Damn you!" I shrieked, storming over and slamming my fists against his chest as hard and fast as I could. "Just damn you!"

Next thing I knew he had both my wrists in one hand, and he'd dragged me, on my belly, across his body, sideways. He laid his other hand on my ass, lightly. It burned. It had for a lot of the evening. "I will spank you if I have to," he growled.

"Stop it stop it stop it! Stop doing things to me, damn it! I was happy! I had everything I wanted! You can't just walk in and mess with me! You can't!"

"Good, you wish to discuss matters. Lower your voice please."

"Let go of my wrists," I shrieked, struggling furiously. Absolutely nothing happened; his grip was like iron.

"Stop this, now. You'll bruise."

"I'll claw your eyes out!"

"Then I have no incentive to let go of you."

"I'll kill you!"

His hand came down on my ass, once. It stung like fury and I burst into tears. He let go of my wrists and I crawled to a corner of the bed, curled and just sobbed.

Crying is ok while it lasts but eventually you have to stop. He was still there when I did.

"Curl under the blankets," he said, softly. 

"Just go away," I whispered.

"No."

"I'll have you arrested."

"Then this day is wasted, everything we did gone. I wouldn't like that."

"I would."

"Clarissa, I will say please. Please bear with me. Sleep next to me tonight."

"Sy said I wouldn't be allowed to touch you."

"She's right."

"You take up the whole dam- darn bed."

"You are very compact. I think we will manage."

"Why are you doing this," I said. "Because I'm pretty? You can get pretty anywhere. Leave me alone. Let me be what I was."

"Listen to me," he said, gently. "It's already too late for that. You can't unfeel the things you felt. All you can do now is learn to get over the shock, and work on trust. So you'll sleep next to me. I won't touch you unless you touch me first. That will convince you I'm not so horrifying as you think."

"I'm not what you're looking for."

"You might be wrong about that. And you'd like summers in Romania."

"Stop it. Be quiet."

"Mmm, a girl who doesn't want a lot of talk. You see? You are turning out very nice."

Seconds later he was asleep, or pretended to be.

I could have gone to the couch. Or to campus security. But the "girl, comma, stupid" part of me decided to play his game for one night. He was horrible, and the instant he touched me I'd press rape charges. He wouldn't be as big and impressive as some mass murderer's bitch in jail.

I slipped out, brushed my teeth, and did the half hour of stuff a girl has to do before she's allowed to have her pillow. (You can't just lie down. You have to straighten, clean, wash your face, worry about your hair, think about tomorrow's clothing, get a couple pages into a book and toss it aside, chide yourself for being a pig and put it away properly. Only guys just lie down and we hate them for it. Guys don't do anything right.)

I glared at him, just lying there in my bed. Boiling water, I thought. Or a knife. No, that just meant more clean up. 

I lay down, carefully not touching him. He smelled warm, if you know what I mean. I turned out the lights.

I don't know why I'm even writing this part. You know what happens.

Time passed. He didn't move. He just lay there... warm, masculine, confident even in his damn sleep. I made do with the fourth of the bed that was left.

He was naked. He'd well and truly broken my sex drive for the night, but under that sheet and in the darkness he had that cock. It had been inside me. I'd come. He knew a lot of tricks that way, I guessed. That was him, a master girl tricker. This whole bed thing was just another trick.

Fifteen minutes. I didn't think about his cock. Or his aftershave. Or his eyes. He's not really there.

Thirty five. Ok, he had me on the eyes and aftershave.

Thirty seven. Ok, ok. He had me on the cock, too. It was like some power tool and I was about three inches away from it. 

Forty three. Damn him. Arrogant pig.

Forty seven. The warmth and scent of him... 

Eternity passed.

Forty nine.

With a shudder I rolled over and clung to him.

"Mmm," he whispered, and he gathered me against him. "Perfect, except for the ugly night shirt."

"I can't be what you want," I said. "I'm not anything like Sy. It's much too much much too fast. Don't you understand I was raised differently. My father... he was no good. My mom warned me about guys just like you. She was a damned expert on bad men I think. I can't trust you, I can't. You just take. Don't you understand, being taken from is scary. Sy gives, I don't know how she does it. I can't give, so you have to take and that terrifies me. You'll just keep taking until there's no part of m-"

He kissed my mouth. Just as well, I wasn't saying anything important anyway. I shook, and then kissed him back.

"This is too much like affection," I said. "I can't do this."

"Kiss me back again," he murmured.

"No. I know all about guys that just sweep you off your feet. They're the evil ones. You, Andrei... evil. Can't you feel me shaking?"

He brushed his lips against mine. I kissed him. And that was his fault.

"Please stop," I whispered. "I don't know what happens."

"No one knows what happens," he said. "But anyone can find out." He kissed his way down my torso. Affectionately, not sensually. Cheater!

"You need a nice Romanian girl."

"I will make you gypsy," he replied. He was kissing my belly button. "You shouldn't have washed off my cum, you know."

"It was driving me crazy."

"You need to be a little more crazy. But I will teach you that."

"But you won't let me think."

"Yes, I will. I just won't let you overthink."

He curled me against him, tight, and kissed me until I let everything sink into a warm haze, and slept.



Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 04



This next part is hard to write, but it was hard to experience, too.

I woke up the next morning, slowly and painfully. I'd been used hard, spanked, and turned into an emotional train wreck. All of that was still with me, as my eyes opened. My hips ached, I had a small tender spot on one wrist - that one had been my own fault - and the slightest movement of my bottom against the sheets reminded me that I'd been ass slapped pretty hard at a couple points. 

The world faded in slowly, and the light was wrong. Oh, I thought. I'm in Romania now.

That woke me up the rest of the way in a hurry, and I sat up, and then cried out. Ouch, damnit! My shoulders, too!

I was in my own room, and I was... of course... alone.

And my clock was off. 

I stumbled out of bed, whimpering slightly. It suddenly occurred to me that I was naked; my nightshirt was in tatters on the bed, cut to ribbons. When had that happened? I sighed.

The clock was unplugged. Why? I grabbed my phone. Eleven am... I'd missed two classes. Cursing (after all, no Stefan), I stumbled into the main room. 

Silence. Sy would be at class. No Andrei, no Stefan, no anyone. I deliberately turned my brain off and limped into the kitchen. I hadn't had dinner, and hunger had woken me up; I was actually shivering a little. I cooked an egg, stared at it, realized that Stefan was gone forever, and cooked three more. 

And didn't eat any of them.

For your information I didn't cry. I didn't feel much, which pissed me off because what I should have been feeling was relief. Stefan had just blown in and shook me upside down to see what fell out of my brain. Nothing he'd liked, apparently, or he wouldn't be gone. I should have been overjoyed. I had my life back, after a brief visit to StupidGirlCrazyLand. Fucking hell, unprotected sex with a guy I didn't know. StupidImmatureCrazyGirlLand.

Impulsively I checked every room. I knew I was in trouble when I actually checked the closets. I don't know why I expected to find Stefan in a closet, I'd never managed to find a boy hiding in my closet when I was 14 (I'd checked a couple of times, yes, after some scary slasher movies; and don't tell me you never looked) and I had no reason to think it would work now either. Maybe I was riffing on the childhood fear of the monster in the closet. Monster, Romanian, no difference.

I sat and stared at the eggs. They weren't fertilized. I better not be either. I did the math... it was very unlikely, but I'd still been more than a little brainless. 

I picked at them. They were cold now. So was I.

My clock had been unplugged. Stefan, of course. He wanted me to oversleep so he could make his getaway in peace. Good. Smart move on his part. No one wants to have some emotional girl clinging to them when they sail off to bigger and hotter adventures. I filed Submission under One Night Stand, and shrugged. At least there was no walk of shame involved. No one ever had to know. Oh, crap. Elena had seen the four of us together. Everyone was going to know.

I'd just pretend nothing had ever happened. Because nothing had. Yesterday was officially canceled due to lack of funding in the sanity account. Yesterday was just a bad dream, a case of mistaken chronology, a wrong number-

I blinked. There had been an urgent email flag when I'd opened my phone.

I flew to my laptop; my feet can't have touched the floor once. Cursing the slow fucking piece of shit browser I opened the email tab and after three shoe ads and a Better Sex Through Yoga link from a friend...

Dear and beautiful Clarissa - Be calm, this is not a goodbye note. I did a lot of thinking last night – by the way, you snore – and I would like to continue to explore a relationship. Since you are entirely too much fun to fuck and it seems to get in the way of our conversational skills – and since I'm suddenly needed back at home over a business matter I can't resolve on the phone – I would like to try a longer distance relationship for a time. I would like to get to know you better and at the risk of pride I already know you feel the same way. Even if I wasn't sure, you also talk in your sleep... it amuses me that you'll never know what you said, but "oh please yes" was repeated a few times. You're a naughty, begging slut and you can't get enough. That amuses me; I will intensify it in you.

I would apologize for unplugging your alarm clock but I did think you needed extra sleep this morning. 

I recommend Vaseline Intensive Care cream on any skin that may need it. (In rural areas at home we just use fresh cream but Syeria swears the commercial products work much better). Syeria has a huge jar of it for some reason, and has already been instructed to apply it to you on request, and if you want to make your fortune early, I think there is the basis of a viral video in that.

About myself – I am 28, which is not too old for you; it is exactly the right age. I work for a living, managing a company my father built and passed on to me; inheriting the family fortune is dependent on managing the company well so I take it seriously. Despite my family connections I am not in line for the throne even if we do throw off the chains of democracy. Grandmother was a gypsy and so the family line, while acknowledged, is not of the sort that can make me king, so put Queen Clarissa out of your head. You'll have to learn to love me for my sweet personality and hard cock. Or is that hard personality and sweet cock? Both seem to make your mouth and eyes water...

I must comment on your night shirt. It was quite ugly and it would have gotten in the way of the photographs I took this morning. I require you to sleep naked henceforth, whether I am there or not.

About the wonderful sex –Because of the social gatherings that you have been told about, I (and all my partners at them) are tested, as I am certain Syeira explained you. Sy also indicated that you have not been active recently, so I think we both need not have concerns about disease. I must apologize for one point, though. I assumed you were not fertile because it is common to believe that all American girls take care of such things. Syeira has indicated that this not the case, and that I should have asked first. For that I apologize.

Andrei thinks you are too ruined by American upbringing, and not worth my time. I would like you to prove him wrong; will you do that for me? Will you allow me to enslave your passions and teach you to find joy in a submission so complete that even Syeria rolls her eyes? Because that, pretty Clarissa, is what I intend for you. That and nothing less.

Stefan

I read it three times, and just sat there, shaking. Now what was I going to do?

I slammed the laptop shut. "I do not snore, you f... you bastard!"

+++

This was an emergency so I texted Sy. "Where is Andrei?"

"Morning sleepyhead. Took S to the airport but I think you will see him again. S I mean. In class talk later."

Study. I had to study. That's why I went to school. I opened the laptop, and pulled up notes for a paper. I needed to organize them into some sort of coherent shape. It was only my major at stake after all.

After the fifth rereading of the email, I closed the laptop. That didn't help; I had it memorized now.

Dear and beautiful Clarissa...

I shivered. That was evil. I've been called cute, hot, even pretty. But beautiful was just... this guy knew too much. Older guys. Always trouble, everyone said so. Always.

Will you allow me to enslave your passions

Fuck. What kind of question was that. How on earth does any female answer a question like that. I mean without giggling in embarrassment and hiding under a rock, or shrieking no, or...

I'd licked his feet. While masturbating. And then he'd fucked me, brutally. And I'd said things... horrible, degrading, embarrassing things. I'd... pleaded. He'd made me beg. Pathetically. Desperately. And his huge cock just... just...

I threw myself on my bed. I fingered myself and I was sore from his rough use of me but that didn't matter; all that mattered was the memory of the experiences, and all of them ran together. The feeling of his cock, pressing, taunting me to try to hold still, about to enter. Lying next to him, shaking because I needed to touch him. The demanding feel of his mouth on my lips, and sucking ruthlessly on my nipples. His mocking laughter, because he knew. The way I'd needed to please him, like nothing I'd ever felt or imagined before. His slow, wicked whispers as he made me watch Sy get spanked. His eyes, his dark, cold, commanding gaze – the merciless, knowing smile – he'd called me beautiful- the snap of his fingers-

I came, writhing on my bed, fingers pinching and twisting and violating, body recalling and reliving. Beautiful, proud me, fucked like a whore and loving it. I came again, gasping myself hoarse. 

Only then did I cry, and only a little.

+++

I was on my fourth brownie (oh, like you never have) when Sy came in. I sat up suddenly with chocolate crumbs all over my mouth and a guilty look that would have been adorable on a small child. She just tsked and took away the tray. 

"You have to manage your weight, silly girl. How will it be when he comes back and you are fatter than he remembers you?"

"ARRRRRRGGGHHHHH!"

"There's no point in complaining. It's just how men are."

"Pah! Give me that tray back. Brownies are better than men."

"How is a man like chocolate? In no way at all. Chocolate is actually good for you. No, Classy, stop, you can't have any more. You had five already."

"Four."

"Five. You lost count."

"Maybe. I'm sorry I yelled at you for drinking. I understand everything now."

She smiled, a little. "Do you love him?"

I glared at her. "No. But I already want to. Do you know how bad that is?"

"I loved Andrei on our second meeting, after he climbed the cliff. He had me and I knew it. Maybe he did too."

"I don't know what to do. He wrote me an email. Sy... he wants to continue."

"And?"

"A guy off campus? Me? Look, maybe you don't know it but girls here think that's funny. Even the few who have guys back home, cheat and laugh about it. No one understands why you do what you do."

She flashed her ring. "Maybe they will now." 

"Yes, and that's wonderful for you but I just met Stefan, plus he scares me shitless. He cut my nightshirt to ribbons!"

"That ugly old thing? It won't be missed. It made you look like one of those Star Wars monks with the glowing sticks."

"Can we please stay on point," I pleaded. "He wrote me a note. I have to write back tomorrow."

She arched a too-pretty eyebrow. "Tomorrow?"

"Girl rules! You can't write back the same day! You know this, you waited six days to talk to Andrei!"

"I paid for it too. Classy, please, please listen. I don't know how you and Stefan will work out. But he will make you find out. If there is someone more demanding and relentless than Andrei it can only be Stefan. He leaves girls crying in his wake because they so quickly come to want what he gives them, but cannot be what he demands. And you are the next victim, that much is clear. Don't put off writing to him. Sooner or later he'll find a girl who gives herself fully. That could be you."

"And he'll get bored and move on anyway!"

"Maybe. As you say, some men are just bad. But he's already gotten to you, so that is the risk you will take, like it or not."

I lowered my head. "I am a terrible choice for him."

"Less melodrama please. You need to think clearly and plan carefully."

"Carefully? Pack, run away, hide! It's not complicated!"

"That is a very poor plan. I will tell you a little secret. When he inherits he'll be worth over two hundred million, American. He's worth eight million today. Add to that, he has connections to both the current and former governments back home. He's as hot as they come, and he thinks you're cute. You need to be a woman, not a child, now. What's your plan, Classy?"

I sat, stunned.

"Uh... now I know he's out of my league. He'll have pop stars, movie stars, models..."

"Can you imagine Stefan with a proud, spoiled brat of a model? She'd never be able to sit down. He's always said he wanted a normal girl. He's been with rich girls and dirt poor girls – and treated them all the same. Firmly."

"Sy, no. For his money, plenty of girls would be whatever he wanted. Let's be honest here. We're all about love and romance until there's millions involved. Every girl becomes a gold digger when the stakes get high enough. I'm going to be one among thousands."

"You're selling our gender a little short. And there's a reason Stefan keeps his assets a secret. I know because Andrei knows and Andrei is open with me. But you had no idea, did you. Stefan is smart enough to let girls know he can spend freely, and smart enough to not give away just how well off he's going to be. Plus he can smell the golddiggers. They won't get him."

"What's Andrei worth?"

"Enough. That's not why I'm marrying him. He'd know if it was. They are not stupid, these men."

"And no one has tried getting pregnant by Stefan?"

"He's normally careful."

"Not so much."

"He told me. You missed me giving him a bit of a, how do you say it, chewing out, and I assure you that's not a show anyone gets to see often."

"And Andrei was ok with that?"

"There was a little punishment for me afterwards due to a poor choice of words. You'll notice I'm not sitting down? But Andrei agreed with me in principle and Stefan was contrite when we were done explaining things."

"Speaking of that... Stefan's note said something about cream for a sore bottom."

"I'll get it. But I'm not putting it on you. You get your ass spanked, you deal with the consequences."

She moved off. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what I could possibly write to Stefan.

+++

Dear Stefan.

(How do writers do it? A blank page is the worst thing in the world.)

I had a wonderful time during your visit

Select All, Delete. This was not a thank you note for a sleep over. Aw, shit. It kind of was actually. But still.

Dear Stefan,

Thank you for your note. I was disturbed when I woke up and you were gone.

No, that sounds whiny.

...when I woke up without knowing how things were to be between us. I have read your note carefully and I am considering your idea of continuing the relationship. I have doubts of course. I know you are popular at home and will have many distractions, and as the relationship we have is of a very physical nature I'm certain the distance will be a deep disadvantage. But I'm willing to give it a chance if you are. 

Signed,

"Don't you dare hit Send on that mess."

"Sy!" I shrieked. "Stop – you're not supposed to see this!"

"Be glad I did. You delete all that right now."

"What's wrong with it?"

"The first two words aren't bad. The rest are hideous. Classy it's too late to play hard to get. He already got. It's too late to be aloof. He watched you beg. If he saw this he'd laugh. And probably move on, convinced Andrei was right about you. Delete that and I'll show you."

Frowning, I deleted it and stood up. Very carefully, she sat, and typed.

Dear Stefan,

I don't have to tell you you left me breathless, and I will admit it, confused and disturbed. I am too frightened by the suddenness of the events to really understand my feelings, but I know this – I do want more. I want to continue, you already know I do. Promise me, though, that you will be considerate and patient. Remember this is all new to me, foreign in more than one way. I am more than a little lost, but I am willing to be lead. Visit again soon.

Impatiently,

"Now sign that and add your phone number. Honestly, it's not so hard."

"For pity's sake. I can't. That's so... wrong!"

"Point to the part that's a lie?"

"I- not – it's – Sy, that's not the point! This is you just saying things again! I can't possibly tell him I was left breathless!"

"He heard you breathing. He knows."

"I have to pretend he doesn't! Don't you understand? I'm scared. He knows too much, way too much! This note is like me ripping off my clothing, lying in front of him and screaming Take Me Now!"

"I've done that," she said. "And you will too. But let me tell you a little secret about men. They love vulnerability. And while if it's overdone it looks like weakness, in the right measure they see it as a kind of strength. You're clearly afraid – I know it, you know it, he knows it. But you're willing to be brave enough to go forward anyway because you want him. That's what those words say – you frighten me but I want you anyway, I will be brave for you. He'll think of nothing but you all day when he sees that."

"No. It's weakness. It looks like I'm throwing myself at him."

"Then let it look that way. Stefan's sin is pride, he says so himself and he is very right. Don't you know your theory of opposites? He is looking for a humble woman. Someone who can say, 'yes, you make me vulnerable, even frightened, feel me shaking, I am poor enough in spirit to admit it, but rich enough in self knowledge to know I need more, and I will bow to get it.' Give him what he asks for if you possibly can. You'll never feel love until you give yourself."

"And when he dumps me? How will I feel then?"

"There is a reason I said if you've never cried you've never loved. This is not an easy thing, what we do here. Love and submission and pleasing – your American society looks down on them, and it doesn't honor the fact that they are hard, sometimes terribly hard things to do. But they are also beautiful and fulfilling and there are such rewards, and I don't just mean the ring on my finger, though if anyone ever asked I would tell the world I earned this ring and I'm so proud of that. I loved and risked and gave myself whole and I am getting the best man in the world. You can too."

"They can't both be the best men in the world."

"Yes, they can. For us. There are as many best men in the world as there are women who want them, at least if God is just."

I looked at the words again. "I can't. I just can't. I guess this proves I'm no gold digger."

"Let me try someone else's words, to explain this," Sy said. She typed Annais Nin into the browser. "...Here it is."

I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don't mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don't mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding.

Sy shrugged. "Never mind that she was a crazy woman. Some things she got right. That is what Stefan is looking for, and maybe what any real man looks for, I don't know. But she just says things, as you put it... and she had so many rich and famous lovers that we have to assume just saying what she wanted, can work."

"Everyone assumes I want this."

"Tell me you don't."

"I'm not supposed to want this!"

"There are days I'm so glad I wasn't raised American. Your problem isn't Stefan. Your problem is you. Come to terms with what you want and who you are. If you don't know, no one else ever will. And that's all I have to say."

She walked away. Gorgeous, engaged, sure of herself, it was oh so perfect and oh so simple for her. I bit my lip, because cursing was oh so unwomanly. Shit!




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 04



+++

Dear Stefan,

I don't have to tell you you left me shaking, and I will admit it, confused. I am too frightened by the suddenness of the events to really understand my feelings, but I know this – I do want more. I want to continue, you already know I do. But I will need help. Please, you have to be patient. This is all new to me, foreign in more than one way. I am lost, but I am willing to be lead, by you.

Stefan... what's written above is how I want to be. At least today it is, with the scent of you still all over me. But it's not how I am. I'm full of pride and selfishness and I'm haughty, things I don't believe you could possibly like. Parts of me bridle, I want to call you names, I want you to apologize for blowing my pretty little world to bits. We're not from the same world. And in my world I'm used to knowing what happens and how it will turn out. How can I ever, possibly be what you want? I look at Sy and I know she's something like what you look for, and I hate her so much for it. What I'm saying is you would have to show me how this works, every step of the way. Are you that patient? Am I? I honestly don't know. I'd have laughed yesterday off if you hadn't made me come like an animal, and (I burn in shame even writing this) you made me want to please you. I felt incompetent, stupid, nothing but a pretty fool for you to come all over because I don't know how to please you or anyone.

When I woke up (and I missed two classes and am behind on my paper now) I was glad you were gone. No, that's a lie. I wanted to be glad you were gone. When I realized I had email from you, my heart soared. I hate it when my heart does that because my heart is too small to go bouncing around outside the careful cage I built for it. It's so odd – I thought Sy was a child, a scared little baby, crawling into the shadow of a man for comfort. Now I know she's anything but scared, she's brave. And I am the one that's not brave.

I feel like I'm throwing myself off a cliff and simply hoping you'll be there when I get to the bottom. Having you gone when I woke doesn't make that easy. I literally don't know what to ask for, what I'm allowed to ask for, but I know I need this: if you want this to work you have to be there for me. I may be ignorant and proud but I know this requires trust. How can I possibly trust you?

So very, very unsure of everything, and trying to be brave,

Your beautiful Clarissa.

I added my phone number, closed my eyes, and hit Send before Sy showed up again.

+++

The knock at the door at noon the next day was unexpected. Sy, Andrei and I looked at each other, and then Sy got up and opened the door.

He was an older gentleman in a suit, maybe late fifties. He blinked at Sy, in that polite way that most older men did when facing Sy's cleavage. "I am looking for a Miss Clarissa ------. Are you her?"

Sy shook her head, but remained in the doorway until I said something. I stood. "That's me, can I help you?"

"Quite the other way around, Miss Clarissa. I've been engaged to provide tutoring and research support in Social Policy for the next three days. Forgive me for not calling first but my employer insisted I try to surprise you with an unannounced visit. Very irregular I know."

"Who – I – well I am certainly surprised," I said, utterly confused. "But come in. May I ask your name?"

"Dr. Daniel Weavers, miss. Not a name you'll recognize, but I worked in the U.S. Social Services Administration Office of Policy under the last administration, so" he gave a quirky smile "I think you'll find me qualified as a guide to policy analysis."

I just stared at him. Sy quickly fetched him a brownie. He smiled, nibbled it, and raised an eyebrow. "This is very good. Someone here is a wizard with Belgian chocolate, I can tell..."

"I'm... I'm sorry." I said. "I'm an undergraduate and I promise you I'm not at all at a level where someone of your experience... besides... Doctor... Doctor Weavers, I can't possibly afford the sort of hourly rate a man like you must be able to command." I still wasn't getting it. 

That got a bigger smile. "Dear child, I've never worked for an hourly rate in my life. And I'm not now. I wasn't told you couldn't be privy to the arrangements, so I will tell you that my nephew has been interested for some time in applying some theoretical social policy he developed to poorer nations, and quite suddenly yesterday he was contacted and offered a one year position with the Romanian government. The only condition was that he arranged to provide tutoring to you as quickly as possible, Miss Clarissa. He asked me if I knew anyone suitable with a bit of free time, and of course I do. I'm very interested in furthering his career..."

I looked at Sy, who was quietly smiling, and Andrei, who was openly grinning. I blushed scarlet. "I... see. Can I offer you another brownie, Doctor?"

"I wouldn't mind if you did," he said, eyes twinkling with amusement.

+++

Fifteen minutes later he was pouring over my notes. "Is this how they are presenting it these days? I can tell you, Miss Clarissa, that this is not at all how it went down. I was present when the policy in question was devised. Let me give you some background on the theory of poverty management that we applied..."

Sy murmured to Andrei, in English for my benefit. "Well, it certainly upstages you climbing a cliff on our second date, doesn't it."

"He is such a show-off," Andrei grumbled.

+++

Sweet Stefan...

And I thought sex with you made me breathless. I have no words for the surprise tutor you arranged. Not only was I able to knock my paper into shape in one day, but I've been given a password to an internal government research website that I don't think any of the professors here ever had. Thank you. Thank you so much. No, thank you more than that. You've made me feel giggly and girlish and I take back every bad thought I ever had about you.

And... you win. After a gesture like that I can't be haughty. Or even frightened. Or if I am it's in a different way. Now I only want to know what you have in store for me. Somehow I thought submission would all be what you forced me to do, and that it would be a terrible burden somehow. But now I begin to see that I can want demands made on me. I want to know what you want. You made me so happy that now it feels right to want you happy too. Are you trying to make me unselfish by being generous? It could work.

Sy tells me that good Romanian girls do not ask for sex, it is something that happens to them, and that that is why Andrei makes her crawl when she wants something. But I am not a good Romanian girl. I'm American. And I want sex with you again. I want to feel the sting of your hand in my hair, I want to feel my body bent by your strength. I want to feel you force your cock against my mouth and know that if I don't please you I can be made to learn how. I remember what it was like, leaning back against a wall, naked, knowing I'd be touched, and then taken whenever you liked. Stefan, because of you my imagination has been turned into a dark and hungry place. Please come and force me to live some of my fantasies – and all of yours. I still can't promise to be a submissive because I have no idea what that means... but I want to feel what it's like to rock myself under you, half afraid, utterly aroused, feeling you pierce into me over and over. I know submission is so much more than sex, but sex is a start, isn't it? Come and torment me until all I can think, breathe and do is wrap myself around your brutal cock. Touching myself and fantasizing used to be enough for me. No more. And you did this.

Your stunned, appreciative, shamefully wet, slippery and infatuated playmate,

Clarissa.

+++

Sweet, hot Clarissa:

You definitely do not write like a Romanian girl would. I should spank you for being so greedy, for trying to demand I come and amuse you with my cock. It is called topping from the bottom... but I will tell you something. What you wrote has me so hot I can't think. I have been wrapped up in meetings over this recent acquisition, but tonight we will try out the pleasures of online sex. They are not much compared to the real thing – but I must come, and I want to hear you say words like that as I do. We are eight hours apart, so I will be on skype at noon your time. 

There are rules to this. You must be pretty and made up and naked, and you must start by kneeling, head down, eyes closed. I recommend headphones because I don't think Sy should hear the dark desires I'm going to describe to you. 

It is time to begin to discipline you into being a good submissive. You can no longer have orgasms without my permission. You must maintain your weight for me and add some tone to your abdomen and legs – don't be offended, you are very fuckable, my sweet hot Clarissa, but you will need the muscle strength for our next visit. And that is not so far off as you might fear. Now that you want to please me, I will give you many opportunities. Maybe more than you can handle. We will see what you are made of.

Your attentive, demanding, corrupting influence,

Stefan

"Sy!"

She dashed in. "Are you ok?!"

"No! He wants me online in an hour. I have to be pretty – shit!" My little makeup case went flying.

She gave a little mocking smile. "And you want me to help, after you gave me such grief when I needed you to help pretty me up?"

"Don't throw me in my own face! I have to be pretty! Shower. I need a shower, and then my hair-"

"Classy, Classy. I'm glad you find this exciting, what is word, thrilling... but you aren't fifteen. Calm. Focus. He likes your shape, he likes your face, even without makeup. You won't displease him. Slow down."

I stared in the mirror. "Is that a blackhead? Those brownies! Oh no!"

She sighed. "You aren't fourteen, either. It's microscopic, okay? Take a hot shower, dab on makeup, and stop worrying."

"My hair – why was I born with this hair-"

"And now you sound thirteen. Listen to yourself. Stefan calls you beautiful, Andrei calls you cute, and you think you have bad hair. Get in that shower now, right now. Hot, not scalding, ten minutes. I'm going to have to teach you my makeup tricks, I can see that."

"Tricks?" I called through the bathroom door. "I've seen you dab on makeup. You spend about thirty seconds on it. My best friend in high school was this gorgeous Asian thing and she spent an hour a day on her face. Foundation, bronzer, two kinds of shading, eye shadow, some kind of finishing powder. She knew tricks."

"I didn't have any of that growing up. And do you know what skin tastes like with all that? Andrei is fond of nibbling my neck and lips. I want him to taste me, not something any other girl could taste like. So I will spend thirty seconds on you, too, and you will thank me for the rest of your life." She stuck her head in. "I want to see steam rising, babe. You should come out a tiny bit pink. Don't do this all the time, just before a skype visit, and you'll have to cream up right after the shower. Now the one thing we will be a little generous with is lip cream. Romanian women tend to be quite modest but wet sexy lips are popular there. I think Stefan is fond of oral sex? Make sure he sees your tongue occasionally, lingering just for a moment, and get good at gentle lower lip biting when he's watching. How does he want you dressed?"

"He... doesn't."

"Ah, a purist. One less thing to worry about."

"I'd give anything for clothing!"

"He will always have you naked in the end. It's such a powerful thing – him, clothed, elegant, calm and you, naked, offered up, trembling. Eh, I have to stop thinking about this, Andrei has me on a sex diet today. Try to come quietly or I will be jealous."

"He'll make me come?"

"If I had to guess you're going to be very sexual with him for a while. And then suddenly he'll deny you. Maybe for days. I mean I'm basing this on Andrei so I don't know for sure, but I don't know any guy who doesn't like his girl to be desperate and eager. And you will be, trust me."

"I think I'm pink enough."

"Ok. I left your robe in there."

I patted and scrubbed and avoided the full length mirror because I didn't want to know what those four or five brownies had done to me. The brownies were his fault because – because – because he was male. Yes.

"I'm shaking," I said as I came out. "Did you have to tell me he was rich? That doesn't help. I'll lose him and I'll spend the rest of my life thinking, two hundred million dollars and a nine inch cock and I got it wrong."

"I didn't need to know that little detail."

"'Little.'"

"Ha ha. Good, the blackhead is washed away. Now watch." She daubed, lightly and quickly. "Now look."

"I... that's good. It's like I'm not wearing any but the eyes look larger. That's... cool."

"Now for the final preparations." She got out the lip gloss and got to work. "And advice. You kneel on your robe, all folded up, when the time comes because you are not used to kneeling and it isn't as easy as it looks. Two... do you have a rule against masturbating?"

"Um... against coming." I blushed.

"Perfect. You spend a few minutes kneeling in front of the laptop, waiting for him, thinking about his hands, his mouth, his cock and his voice... and masturbate lightly while you do. Right until he calls."

I just sat there, and then nodded, wordlessly.

"Good girl."

"Sy..."

"Yes?"

"First, thank you. For all this. I would never have ever... and second, I'm scared again. No. I'm... he..."

"It's called awe," she said, gently. "You are beginning to believe that a man can be worthy of devotion, of submission. And if he is good for you, adoration is coming. It was a shock even for me, I can't begin to imagine what it is doing to you. Revel in it. That Nin quote... richness and darkness. They are starting to pour in on you, like a waterfall. Let it happen. Be bound by him. Be disciplined. Be submitted. And when it is time, love and be loved. There's nothing else like it in this world. Off with you, now, you have pretty hair to brush."

I nodded again, abruptly out of words again, and she slipped out of my room.

+++

I took off the robe, folded it, and put it under my knees. My laptop was on a low table in front of me, and Sy's Bluetooth earpiece was perched shyly, hiding in my hair. The earpiece smelled faintly of perfume; Sy apparently wore some for her online dates with Andrei. I thought that was interesting since it could only be for her benefit, not his. If I dared try to psychoanalyze – and that was her major, not mine – it either meant she was desperate to cover over any flaw, even ones he could not possibly know about; or she was so immersed in his presence that she could make believe he was actually there.

I doubted it would be that immersive an experience for me. I'd felt his hands and mouth and it had been overwhelming. Now he'd have only his eyes and voice. Not that I really thought that would make him more manageable, but I might stay a little saner.

I looked down at myself, naked and kneeling for a guy who wasn't going to be online for ten more minutes. Sane. I'd known what that meant, once. Ages ago, like last week.

In the romances I liked to read, the hapless but sexy heroine was fond of wailing "I don't know how this happened to me!" I couldn't claim that. I could recall every moment, vividly, starting from finding Sy drunk, to the current moment. There had been forks in the path and each and every time I'd chosen the way that led deeper into the woods. Where the Big Bad Wolf lived. I'd turned off my brain and walked to his hotel room, for fuck's sake. Literally. I'd asked for this, not even knowing him. In how many ways had I been secretly longing for this, so secretly that I hadn't even told myself?

I'd written Stefan and made him horny. I was guessing that that was not exactly hard with him, but the fact is that I'd done it very deliberately. I was not being hit over the head and dragged off to the Cave of Sex. I was a willing dance partner.

Willing and eager. I was what my mom had begged me never to be. Sorry, mom. When the wolf howls and the moon rises, the rules change, I guess.

I slid my hands lightly over my thighs. The hot shower followed by the cream left me very soft. That was Sy's fault. She knew I'd be made to touch myself and she'd arranged it so the skin I touched would be pleasant. It was impossible not to think about his hands touching me, and suddenly I was back at the moment when Andrei had touched me using Sy's hands. Now I understood why that had not seemed unusual to Sy. Stefan was going to touch me with my own hands.

I stroked my stomach, thighs, and then, very gently, the base of my breasts. My eyes closed, slowly, on their own. I was an offering, a thing given. If I'd been sitting on the chair behind me it would have been different, but I was kneeling. I brushed my fingertips over my nipples, because I wanted them hard when he saw me. I used to be embarrassed to be seen with hard nipples. That was gone.

I pinched them gently and the heat swept through me. Soften your skin, pretty your lips, and kneel to a man and arousal claimed you, hard. Addictive, Sy had called it. She should have warned me. Brownies were addictive. This was more like I'd imagined being possessed was like. Stefan was a demon and he had me now, and he'd released a demon of my own I'd kept hidden inside me. She was licking her lips and opening her legs. Except they were my lips and legs. My inner demon was a total tramp.

My hand slid quickly between my legs, and I stroked. By the time Stefan got here I'd be aching for his cock. And all I'd get was his hands, kind of. Skype was the worst idea in the world, it just made you need physical presence more. I'd beg him to visit me again. I'd plead...

I took a deep breath. No. I wouldn't do that. There had to be something of Clarissa left somewhere, and she would never beg. I would... ask, nicely. Yes. Come to tea, dear Stefan.

And that triggered a fantasy of Stefan and I as Victorian gentleman and lady, and him suddenly throwing me over a footstool and taking me from behind, tearing my finery off and leaving me shaking and naked... I dragged my hands away from my clit before I started fingering myself, helplessly. 

Kneeling and waiting was such a hot, dark erotic thing, I realized. Waiting for a man to come and claim your naked little body...

Seven more minutes to noon. I'd started this too soon. I'd assumed I needed a few minutes to warm up, so to speak... apparently I'd never need that again. I stroked my body, quickly, urgently, cupping myself to the camera, sliding my hands over my hips and thighs, gently biting my lower lip, arching, widening my eyes. "Take me, Stefan," I whispered, softly and wickedly. "Take me ruthlessly, brutally. I know what your body does to mine. I know the way I burned to touch you when I lay next to you in bed. My heart has doubts but my body doesn't have any left at all. I will tell you a secret, Stefan. Shatter me with that big cock over and over, make me please you, take control of my sexuality, enslave me through my own feelings, make me beg for my own pleasure, be ruthlessly male, and my heart be yours. All of me, yours-"

I stopped dead. Where had that come from? Fucking hell if anyone ever heard me say that I'd die about ten thousand deaths. Seriously, was I insane? Too many romance novels, Clarissa! Hell, even they weren't that bad! At least the heroine put up a fight!

I'd play hard to get. I had to! I was a woman and women had to do that. I'd put up some sort of wall, something to show that I wasn't committed, I could still find other guys; I had plenty of options, because guys looked at me all the time, they'd started looking even more just recently, all I had to do was play it a little cool and get him to come to me, emotiona-




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 04



The earpiece warbled. He was six minutes early.

+++

"Clarissa."

My eyes were down, my lips were parted, and for a moment I thought I wouldn't be able to speak at all. This is crazy, I told myself. He's just a guy. A guy with large hard hands and a larger, hard cock and the sort of smile that says "I know. You can't help yourself." Smiles aren't supposed to know about that kind of thing.

"Hello, Stefan," I said. The words came out well enough but try as I might I couldn't raise my eyes. I'd licked this man's feet. I didn't think I was ever getting over that.

"Such a shy little girl you are. I thought we'd spend some time just talking, this evening," he said.

"I'm naked!" I blurted.

"Really? I hadn't noticed. Your face is so beautiful I hadn't gotten any further."

For almost a second I thought he was serious and I couldn't believe how sweet and corny that was. Then I heard him chuckle softly, and I blushed redder. But then I cracked up.

"You... are awful," I said. I managed to raise my eyes. He was in a dark suit in what looked like palace. The palace, I decided, was cheating. The suit was bad enough.

"So I'm told. Your eyes are good, by the way, but I'm going to have to be honest and say the large nipples are very distracting."

"I hoped they would be. I mean if I were naked and you really did get lost in my eyes I... I think I'd be offended. No I wouldn't. Yes I- never mind. Do I talk too much?"

"Only in your sleep. So I am glad the tutor worked out for you. I hope he was polite as well?"

"Very. And three times my age and very amused by the whole thing. Stefan, that was extravagant and beyond sweet."

"You held me responsible for you falling behind in your work. I take that kind of thing seriously."

"You do, hm? You're also responsible for me being horny out of my mind. What are you going to do about that?"

He raised an eyebrow and for some reason the floor didn't open up and swallow me, which just goes to show that no matter how badly you want something, the floor doesn't care. In his last note he'd suggested that expressing sexual needs would be perceived as pushy. And I'd done it anyway. 

"Stefan," I said immediately. "Remember what I said in my note. I'm completely lost. I have no idea what could offend you, there's cultural differences and I just don't know anything. I begged you to be patient."

He smiled, very slowly and I thought cruelly. "You want to please me very badly, Clarissa. Why?"

"I honestly don't know. You're handsome, rich, fearless, arrogant, demanding, and sexually merciless. It's a pretty hot package, and you know it. But those are all reasons to... desire you, and", I swallowed, "I do. But wanting to please you like this is new to me. I'm sure you know the reasons better than I do."

"Perhaps I do. Spanking you has more to do with it than you'd want to admit. You want my approval now, and to get it you must be pleasing."

"That's so... raw. You just... say things. Sy is like that. Is that a Romanian thing?"

He chuckled. "I suppose. We think Americans are all twisty with their words, so it doesn't surprise me that you feel we are straight with ours. But we have drifted from the topic of you expecting me to keep you amused sexually."

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice that."

"You hope in vain. Close your pretty eyes, Clarissa."

I did, swallowing.

"Lay your hands on your thighs, and just listen. Listen to my voice and nothing else. I have made your body mine. It wasn't difficult, it desperately wanted to be owned, possessed and used. Your heart is horrified and your mind is terrified, but I will tell you a secret about intense emotions in a woman. They all enslave her. If I make you sexually hungry, or frightened, or angry at me, or even sad – that binds you to me, tighter. It's possible to infuriate a girl into loving a man, did you know that? A man that can play the harp strings of a woman's emotions, rules the woman. I rule you, Clarissa."

"I don't think that's true."

"I require you to keep your eyes closed. Can you open them?"

After three seconds, I gave a soft whimper, and gave up.

"Run your fingertips along the sides of your breasts," he said.

"N-No," I said.

"Now, Clarissa."

My hands trembled in my lap. "I'm infatuated, not hypnotis-"

"NOW!"

My hands flew and stroked. I was shaking. 

"Obedience arouses you. I can see your nipples hardening, your lips drying. Lick, Clarissa. Think about the way it felt when I forced your mouth against my cock. Remember the taste, the smell, the trickle of wetness you licked up. You're so hungry to be fucked you can taste it. Your nipples are aching cones, and slit is damp, and it's not because your petting your breasts, it's because obedience is your secret turn on, your deepest need. I'm taking my cock out. Your eyes stay closed, but you can imagine it. I'm going to stroke it very lightly as I look at you, petting yourself for me. Let you fingertips wander over the base of your breasts, and between them, I love the space between. Touch yourself like an eager slut, without being allowed to watch and see what effect it has on me. You don't need your eyes for that, Clarissa. Listening to my voice, my breathing. The more aroused I become the more demanding I get. A lightly aroused man can be affectionate; a deeply aroused male is a savage animal. Do you feel the animal emerging? Think about the way I held you down. Think of what you felt in that moment. You were going to be ravished, and I could see and hear that you never wanted anything more. Right now I want you that same way. I want to ravage and pound and make you cry out, overwhelmed and sobbing because your need to come and your need to please me are at war. Your note made me burn, Clarissa, girls I know don't express themselves that way. You took a chance and when the time comes you will pay for it, but it worked. Stroke your thighs and belly. Remember the feel of my skin against them as I entered you-"

I whimpered, shaking.

"My cock is a stone for you now. If you could open your eyes – and you cannot – you'd stare at it, fascinated, thinking about how it was inside you and how far away it is now. And you'd think... 'please Stefan, take the miles between us away. Let me try to please you again. I will get better with practice, I swear it.' Such shameful thoughts, Clarissa."

"You know too much," I whispered.

"Touch your clit, lightly and slowly. I said slowly! Part your legs more, you will have no secrets with me. Whatever else you become for me, you will be my little fucktoy. You will learn to suck at my cock with your slit and lips until I drown you in cum. You have no idea yet how hot you can be made to burn and crave, and how shamefully you can be made to beg. But you are learning how much you love it."

"Stefan," I said, shattered.

"But what about your heart, Clarissa? Any man can learn to get a woman's body hot. But that's not enough, it is never enough for me. I want your heart. You were disturbed when you woke up without me? Why? You believed I'd be satisfied with that one little sip of the chalice of your sexuality? I'm not that easy. I want your affections as well. A depraved body and a defenceless heart, that is what I crave. Touch faster. I see you squirming. I see you licking your lips and panting. But that's only your body. You already want to give me that body, but I demand more."

A little gasp of need broke free. He was terrifying.

"Now stop touching."

Another whimper, but I obeyed.

"You're about to open your eyes, but you will look only at my eyes. Not my cock. You will not look down, even once. Don't disappoint me in this. Open your eyes... now."

Shaking, I did. Instantly I was struggling. "Stefan... I want to look down. I need to see how aroused you are."

"You can see that in my eyes well enough. And you must obey me if you want this to work. Don't look down."

"Hard... it's hard... I want to look..."

I could see his hand moving over his cock without looking directly at it. My clit was screaming for attention. 

He smiled. "What else do you want?"

"No, I can't say-"

"You know I will not tolerate that answer. Tell me. Now."

"I- I want to touch myself again. Stare at your cock and touch myself. I want you to come because I did. To be hot and pretty for you. Stefan, please. Not looking, not touching, it's so hard!"

His hand moved faster. I moaned, softly.

"Touch," he whispered. "One finger only, along the base of your breasts... more slowly, Clarissa... across the nipples... now your lips... now... your clit."

I gasped, softly, staring into his eyes, shaking. The flare of pleasure from the fingertip made it difficult to listen, and then to breathe.

"I want to fuck your mouth, Clarissa. And when I'm close I want you to rub your breasts against my cock like a frantic little slut so I can come all over you. I want to watch you lick it up, while masturbating... touch faster. I will let you look at it... but if you do, you're agreeing to let me take you when I visit next. Not seduce you, not make love to you. Take you, suddenly, savagely and when and how I like, whispering to you what happens if you do not please me, you will learn to work my cock with your pussy and you'll work hard, I'll make you desperate to feel my cum inside you, all over you, making a mess of your pretty skin-"

"Please, yes please! Let me look!"

"Then look."

His hand moved over that hard, brutal, huge cock, faster and faster. He was shiny with precum and thick and throbbing. I felt his eyes on me, searching out my curves, memorizing my skin. I arched, sobbing. His cock was so hard for me. I was so close to coming-

"Now tell me again how you want to please me!" he snapped.

"Take me hard... pinning me down, tearing clothing away, making me helpless, make me have to use my eyes and sounds to show you how much I burn to feel you make me your fuck toy... grip my throat, breasts, ass, tell me to kiss you, I'll lick your mouth, slide my lips over yours, I'll moan as your tongue forces between my slippery lips, I'll whimper as I move my hips for you, sucking frantically on that huge cock with my pussy, milking you – I want your come – I want your come – Stefan it hurts I can't hold it back, please, please, anything you want-!"

He arched, stiffened, his body taut in his suit, and then he came, snarling, cursing in Romanian, jetting and jetting all over his suit pants and I shrieked in agony because he hadn't said I could, and the fireworks in my brain burned everywhere inside me as his cum splattered over and over- 

I was shattered, shuddering, whimpering in agony. I had to- I had to-

"Stop. Hands at your sides!"

I burst into tears, helplessly. "You're ruthless!"

He panted. "Yes. And you're a sweet little slut and I love what I just felt."

"I have to touch- I have to come, Stefan, I'm begging here, you have to let me-"

"I have to?"

His voice was suddenly hard, cold. In a saner moment it would have been scary but now it just added to my need to come.

"Please," I said, voicelessly. "You're driving me out of my mind. Please!"

"Touch."

"Thank yo-"

"Stop."

I sobbed like a baby, hands shaking on my thighs.

"This is how it is, Clarissa. You want to give yourself to me, but you don't know how hard it is yet. I can be sweet but I am also that word you like, merciless. You pleased me twice just now, my orgasm and your obedience."

"Are you... are you going to let me come at all?"

"You don't get to know, beautiful Clarissa. You look very lovely in you aching, desperate state, and lovelier still when you come. But you believe sex is about your pleasure. Now it's a part of your submission. Can you handle that?"

"I- I don't- I don't know- I can't think- I want so bad-"

"That's too bad, because I did call you to have a conversation and once again we're sex crazed animals. Let go, Clarissa. Let go of the need to come. Put it aside. You can do it."

"Oh fuck- Stefan-"

"We've talked about language. Pinch your nipple. Slowly and firmly."

I obeyed and the fireworks it set off in me made me sob again.

"Now I want to know about your school work. Why social work?"

My breathing was frantic gasps. "Can't think-"

"Focus, Clarissa. I'm not going to be gentle. I went slowly at our first meeting, but not so much now. If you can't handle me I want us both to know quickly. There is less heartache that way."

"Is this how- how you do it? You, Andrei, other men? B-by making women crazy?"

"I doubt any two men handle women the same way. You don't learn this is school. But I watch you fighting to control your hands, second by second, just trying to hang on... and I know you have given yourself to me. That is what I want."

"Stefan I can't breathe. Let me come. Please."

"No. Hands away from your clit. And I asked you a question. Why Social work?"

"Be-because-" I balled my fists and put them under my knees. It helped. "Because I want to help people. Poverty is everywhere. It can't be cured but it can be mitigated."

"By governments?"

"By people. If they try. Governments are just groups of people in action. Governments are not the best at it but they have a role."

"Interesting. Why aren't governments good at eliminating poverty?"

"You know I'm aching, right? Edge play is hell."

"Edge play teaches you about my power over you, and makes you more mine. Deep down your mind knows that if I can do this to you, I must be powerful – and your urge to submit increases. You're being trained, Clarissa. But right now I want an answer to my question."

I took a long, shuddering, deep breath. "The answer depends on the kind of government. Democracies are prone to becoming dominated by economic interests that favor the rich over the poor. Monarchies give power to families and cliques that tend to lose focus on the welfare of other classes, because maintaining their own position is an all-encompassing struggle. Dictatorships are usually so corrupt they can't do resource allocation. Theocracies can do better but there are none left. Lessening poverty takes sustained effort over generations, and governments get focused on shorter term goals."

"So what works better?"

"Altruism and religious sentiment can lead to grassroots movements that stay focused for the needed amounts of time. But they can end up resource constrained. Why on earth are you asking this NOW?"

He leaned back, frowned, and stood up, removing his pants. "If you were here you would lick these clean, while I wore them and watched... But to your question. I want to understand you, Clarissa. And I am a well-off person, connected to a government in a country with endemic poverty. We've done poorly addressing the plight of gypsies and it is not for lack of trying. Though many don't care. It sounds like you do."

"I do, but I don't know enough to be of any help. And when you have both racism and poverty it's an impossible problem."

"I would have liked to use Syeira as a poster child for the plight of gypsies. She catches eyes. But Andrei is intent on getting himself and her out of Romania in the end. Many women here want to make a good marriage and leave to go anywhere else."

"There's some term for that – women who link up with wealth, produce children, then they move somewhere more suitable for raising children – pulling the wealth away from an area where it could do some good. It's another hard problem to solve, because no one is going to tell parents to raise their children in difficult environments. But when you have the flight of capital from disadvantaged areas, it just makes the mess worse."

"You've thought about this."

"Well, my teachers here make sure I do. But yes."

"What about industry?"

"Industry looks out for itself," I said. "It can lift regions out of poverty, but it's never a reliable force for social justice because it has different goals. It can be exploitive and do much more harm than good. Especially around corrupt governments. Stefan, I feel like I'm being interviewed. That's kind of strange when you're naked."

"It sort of works for me, as you Americans say."

"Did I pass the interview?"

"I think so. I might have to consider your mind as worthwhile as your body. I haven't usually had to do that."

"Maybe if you took education a little more seriously in your supposedly developed nation-"

"Ouch. Down, girl. As it turns out you're right. We don't rank high in that area. But we do have a very good system of healthcare and businesses do well here. It's not a nation of starving gypsies, there are just some starving gypsies here."

"Hm. Can I ask questions?"

He raised an eyebrow. "If you want to get to know me I suppose you will have to."

"What does your company do?"

"Machinery and tools. I don't claim it's fascinating but it produces jobs and made my father a good income."

"Does it employ gypsies?"

"What do you think? But the reasons aren't all pure and sweet. They have low labor costs." He paused. "Aren't you going to ask me what I earn?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I know you're well off and I don't need to know how well off. Stefan... if I was into you for your money, the orgasms would be bigger and louder, and fake."

"Wait. You can do a bigger, louder orgasm than the ones I've seen from you?"

"If you don't mind them being fake..."

He gestured. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Oh, Stefan. Your cock is sooo big. I can't stop licking it. Do you want to... feel it against my slit? Ohhhh... we have to stop, you won't fit. Of Stefan, are you going to... make me? Oh, please, it hurts... Please... Oh. Oh I'm so full, you're... oh! Don't! Gentle! Stefan I... I... oh fuck... fuck... Oh! Oh! Oh Steven YES! Take me harder! I'm going to come so hard around your big diamond studded cock! Come pearls and rubies into my pussy! Yes! Oh Yes! YES YES OH YES BABY YOU'RE GOOD AS GOLD!!!!"

He stared at me for five seconds. And then burst into the most uproarious laughter I'd ever heard. 

+++

"Ok," he said a couple of minutes later, still chuckling. "Some night when Andrei is eavesdropping, I need you to do that again. He will die."

"Speaking of dying. Can I please come now? Because it hasn't stopped aching."

"No, Clarissa. You won't have orgasms until I visit you again."

"Then I must ask when that will be."

"Do you wish to invite me?"

"Didn't I just get in trouble for begging for sex?"

"You need to learn how it is done. A tastefully worded invitation to share dinner with me is not begging for sex."

"I... see. Give me a moment to do this right." I closed my eyes. "Dear Stefan, lord of the hard metal tool. I request the honor of your presence at a meeting to discuss the plight of the poor and very, very needy, with dinner and... dessert to follow."

"I accept. Five days from now. I have an acquisition to make sense of first, or I wouldn't have left you."

"My boyfriend does acqu-"

"Never use that term."

"Merger, then?"

"Boyfriend. Terrible word. I'm not a boy and you will not consider me as a friend if you mean by that equal. You are my submissive, Clarissa."

I paused. "So this makes it official?"

"Yes."

I nodded, a little somberly, and the smiled. "Can I put 'in a relationship' in facebook?"

"Facebook? I thought you were a smart girl."

"I have 379 friends on Facebook. That's one kind of smart."

"How many of them have you slept with?"

"Hey! You're the one with the bunches of lovers. I've been fairly... good."

"I will make you bad, Clarissa. Wicked, orgiastic, sex-crazed. And that is a serious statement."

I shivered. "I know," I whispered, softly.

"Now touch yourself again..."

+++

I stumbled out of my room. "Sy...."

She looked up. "You did a good job being quiet."

"I didn't g-get to come. And I want to. I'm going crazy."




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 04



"Don't. I'm sure he told you not to."

"I can't think straight!"

"I hate to say it," she said. "But men like us better when we don't think too much. And that is something I don't forgive them for. Come and sit and talk. Other than little sexual torments, how did it go?"

"Little? Sy I'm not used to, um, stopping. I can barely hear you over my body's screaming."

"I'm familiar with the condition. No Andrei, no orgasm – but guys look at me all the time and it has an effect. Some nights I put gloves on because it makes it harder to masturbate. But...?"

I sat, shivering. "Stefan says I'm his submissive."

She paused. "Oh. Are you?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Yes. This is the one thing you absolutely always have a choice about. You are his exactly as long as you want to be. The moment you don't want to be, it's over. He can take away every other choice, but never that one."

"I did agree to it. You don't seem pleased by my choice."

She paused again. "I wanted you to understand my life. I didn't exactly expect you to end up living it. And it happened very fast."

"I'm completely ignorant, you know? How long is it supposed to take? Are there submissive's guides? Like rules for dating? No sexual submission until the third date?"

She snorted. "The internet is full of advice. Read it, but ignore most of it. I think a lot of it is written by men who are trying to make women be a certain way. 'Hi, I'm Julie and I gave myself to my Master the day I met him because he's so awesome.' I bet his name wasn't Julie. Bah. Submission takes time, because it takes trust."

"I... to be honest I feel a little crazy. There's a little voice in my head whispering 'Who is he? I don't know him. I don't trust him.' And it's drowned out by the voice yelling 'Wheeeeee!'"

She sighed. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Please do. You are the only person I know who I can possibly talk to about this."

She nodded. "Welcome to my world. It drives me insane when people ask how things are going with Andrei. I keep having to smile and carefully not explain that it's wonderful how much peace I feel when I'm utterly prone in his presence and whispering 'take me' over and over. Because what a lot of girls are really asking is 'Does he give you nice things?'"

"I think you're selling our gender short this time. You're beautiful, you know, way above most girls here. They wonder what it is like to be you, and that's really what they are asking. But you wanted to speak freely, so...?"

"So. Too much, too fast, Classy. I think that's you right now. I was raised in a culture where submission to men is more or less assumed. As a result, women develop instincts you don't have. You're running blind."

"Is Stefan bad?"

"Probably not. Andrei is choosy about his friends. But Stefan is a bit gypsy. He will assume your obedience and find it natural that you have yielded quickly. He will go very fast. As an analogy, you have strapped on skis for the very first time, and pushed off down the hill. You are unfortunately on the expert trail and you should be on the novice hill. It would take a very, very good and strong man to get you down that trail in one piece. I don't know if that describes Stefan." 

"Is he ruthless?"

"He'll have to be you get you through this. I'm sorry... there is a translation problem with that word for me. For me ruthless means something more positive than I think it really is supposed to. The reality is that I know Stefan mostly through Andrei. Stefan was at parties, too, but I was never paired with him. I don't know him well enough to say what he's like."

"It's weird to think you could be paired with him. You could end up at one of those parties and he could end up with you and... grrrr, now I have to kill you in your sleep."

"You don't. I won't be going to those parties anymore."

"I bet you're relieved."

Sy blushed a little and looked down. "No," she said, softly.

"Wait, really?"

She hesitated, and her eyes stayed down. "This is me, 'just saying things' again, as you put it. Honesty about myself always is what I was taught and I must never be embarrassed... but about, this I am. Andrei took dark delight in making me serve other men. What I may have kept from him is that, in time, I took delight in it as well, darker and hotter delight than he did. Taken by powerful men for whom you feel nothing, being a purely sexual thing for just a few hours... because you are required to, and where people can see it... It's not rape, but it must brush closely enough to rape fantasy to trigger something in me. I'd come screaming, and when Andrei took me next I'd come screaming again, because he was so powerful he could compel me to use my body that way."

She looked up. "But please don't confuse that with submission. That is a special quirk of Andrei and I."

"Good, because I can't even imagine it."

"You can if you look deep enough. Every woman can, I think. But it may not be wise to."

"But how did he teach you to... want that?"

"He didn't. I love him. I submit to him. I take pleasure in being within his will. If his will is dark, then I come to embrace darkness. Having his eyes beating on my shamefully aroused body as another man toys with my responses and uses my mouth and pussy as places to come... doing everything I can to please the man's cock, knowing that later, Andrei will take me hard to remind me of his possession of me... Clarissa we have to get off this topic. It makes me very hot and I would rather not plant this seed in you as well. Love can make you do terrible things. They would be even more terrible if love wasn't involved."

I nodded. "But back to my topic. Why am I submitting to someone I still don't know. Because I just told him I would. He didn't force it."

"I don't know. Something in you broke free. Be careful of the cycle, Classy. You give them power over you, and they make you feel that power, deeply. You respond to that feeling by yielding further, and so you feel their power more strongly still, and so on. They aren't actually doing anything except wielding what you give them – but the end result is you give everything. Don't let that happen to you. Make sure it is they who take you deeper, not you who drive yourself deeper. Let the man shape you, at his pace. I think maybe you have run ahead of Stefan and maybe that amuses him, but that doesn't mean it's good for you."

"How do I slow down?"

"Try saying No."

"Sy, you never do!"

"But once upon a time, I did. Before I trusted fully, I would say Please No to some things. Andrei sometimes honored my request."

"And sometimes not."

"And sometimes not. If I could veto everything I'd be the one in charge, after all. I think you are looking for hard and fast rules. But you have to work those out with Stefan."

"So if I'm giving too much too fast, isn't it his job to, what, pull back on the reins or something?"

"Yes. And No."

"Um..."

"It's complicated. Anything human is complicated and this is where we are most human. One the one hand one of the wonders of submission is we're not in this alone, someone else is looking out for us and we've given him the right to intervene as he see fits. There's wonderful peace in that. On the other, there is no excuse for giving up personal responsibility. There's no simple answer to where our responsibility ends and his begins. Did you ever read that pathetic book, Fifty Shades of Grey?"

"No..."

"Don't, it is such trash. In that story the two characters draw up a contract to limit abuses. I was horrified. A contract is something two people who don't trust each other, do in order to work together. If you need a written contract to make your relationship work, something is beyond wrong. It's like prenuptial agreements, faugh! If Andrei had asked for one I'd have known he didn't trust me concerning his money and if he doesn't trust me why would he marry me at all?"

"What do you do when he asks for something you know is wrong?"

"I do it anyway. I tell him I don't agree but then I obey. I made a deliberate decision to be fully obedient, and sometimes it hurts. But never deliberately does he hurt me."

"I think I will need more rules that that."

"You will. But I can't tell you the rules. Stefan is watching you, I am sure of that. If he thinks you're in trouble he will do something. But he might be the sort that lets you make a few mistakes first. Rules can't be invented for you two by a third person. It's his will and your heart that will decide them."

"Not his heart?"

"He's a man. He doesn't let his heart lead him. When a man's heart gets too loud they go punch something, or drink something, or fuck something. Fire in the belly, ice in the brain, and the heart is there to pump blood. That's a man."

"You're something of a gender essentialist."

"The thing where I believe men and women are different because they are wired differently?"

"I suppose that's one way of stating it."

"Then I'm guilty of that, yes. Different brain structure, different hormonal structure, very different reproductive responsibilities, we don't even see colors in the same way as men. Ask a woman to look at her nails, she extends her fingers; ask a man and he turns his hand over and makes a fist. We differ in basic physical ways and we're supposed to pretend that doesn't make a profound difference in thinking and behavior? I study psych. We don't pretend the differences aren't there - because in study after study they show up. Environmental factors, my pretty pink butt. Genetics is genetics. You social researchers need to pay attention to our data."

"Your data would lead social planners to conclude that men should be the mathematicians, and we wouldn't waste time teaching math to women. That's not just."

"Biology isn't just. My best friend in Romania failed math class every time, but she speaks four languages fluently and she knew the cry of every single baby in the village on the first note. When the man next to her was still asking if that noise was a crying baby. They wouldn't let her stop taking math no matter how miserable she got. Thank you social planners."

"But look at the alternative! Women pushed into educational channels that cater to the things they are supposed to be good at, because the poor dears can't handle the quadratic formula so let's not tax their delicate frames with such complexities! How much damage does that do to self-esteem?"

"Maybe if my friend could have been given the choice to drop math or take it-"

"She was how old at the time? Was she in a position to make wise choices about her future? What if she'd given up after failing her first foreign language quiz? Sometimes you have to struggle with things because society needs you to."

"And sometimes society is a huge pain in the ass that judges you and ridicules everything you hold most dear. And that is something I know a little about. Geh, I am sorry, Classy. It's the gypsy in me. I am submissive to a man, not to a philosophy or culture. Behind my sweet smile I raise my middle finger to people who try to tell me how to think and want to fit me into a mold. I chose one man and allowed him to do a little molding, but I will not take it from society. I am who I am. I am a woman and I will follow my heart."

I mused on this a bit. "I can't hear my heart. All I can hear is my sex drive. Are we all secretly sluts?"

"Nope. You and I, we're just lucky that way."

"Oh good," I said. "Just great."

+++

Dearest Clarissa,

Arriving 5pm on the 12th. I will be on campus by 7pm. I look forward to seeing you very much.

I have taken the extreme liberty of sending you a somewhat unusual gift. I beg of you not to be offended and send it back. It is a matter of practicality, plus it amuses me. It should arrive early this evening. If you aren't available to take it, Syiera has been told to accept delivery.

Your increasingly infatuated,

Stefan

I blinked. Now what? My schedule today meant I might not get to my room before It arrived. Whatever It was. Something outrageous. That meant something personal. Designer perfume, like they made for Sy at parties? No, he wouldn't. Would be? He said practicality. So not perfume. Jewelry? Jewelry could be very practical...

I texted Sy.

Package arriving today. What do you know?

Immediately, the dots, and then: Package arriving now. How very like Stefan, I think. Please remember he is male.

The hell? I bit my lip.

Tell me what it is!

I could not possibly. Just... I am afraid Elena walked by just now and I do not think this is a secret any more. Remember, Stefan is male and thinks in male ways. He likes to solve problems.

Men, solving problems. There's nothing worse. 

I don't have any problems! Tell me!!

No. I recmd you skip shopping for dinner and come straight home. I will order pizza. This is def. a pizza night.

I'm scared.

You should be. See you for dinner!

My classes were a blur. I was fretting because whatever It was, It was clearly wrong. And if Elena knew... 

I grit my teeth. Men were annoying.



Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 05



I ran back to my room the second classes were over and nearly knocked the exiting pizza delivery guy flying. When I got into the room, Syieria was already carrying two slices of pizza to me. Being a girl I decoded this instantly. I was going to be upset and would need the extra piece to calm me down. I had an Italian grandmother who was a master of the "Mangi, magni! You'll feel better!" and Sy was wearing the exact same reassuring smile. I shivered.

"Where is it."

"I got extra pepperoni. And olives, they counteract the fat."

"No they don't. I'm sorry but that pizza doesn't qualify for the Mediterranean Diet. Where is it?"

"Now just try a few bites."

"I'm going to get changed and when I get back here I want to know what's going on."

"Classy wait! I don't think you-"

I stormed into my room. And what the hell?!

"Where's my bed! And what- oh, no!"

She appeared in the doorway behind me. "Stefan is tall, and-"

"And he got me a king sized bed?! Look at these huge boxes! That's – of all the presumptive arrogance!-"

"Classy, you did say you were in a submissive relationship. He is free to make certain changes and-"

"This is so wrong!" And then my blood ran cold. "And Elena saw these delivered?"

"This pizza is soooo good. Let's eat the whole thing!"

"Sy, there can be nothing more... more... I don't know the word! This is the absolute limit!"

"Um..."

I stared at her. "What else did he send," I hissed.

"There were two other small boxes. But really the pizza is going to get cold and with pepperoni that's-"

"Where are they."

She just sighed, and pointed. "Behind the mattress box."

I pulled them out. "A power screwdriver. Because being a girl I'm too weak to use a regular one. Alright, I was wrong, that's the absolute limit, that's just the final- what the fuck, is this a box of condoms? Five hundred count?"

Sy put my plate in my hand. I viciously bit the end of a slice.

"What's really kind of funny, from a certain point of view" she said in a small, careful voice, "is that you think you just touched bottom. But you are not there, not quite yet. There is one more little surprise. I want you to know that Andrei demanded I run the video camera as you discovered it, and I refused. I'll pay for it but even I have limits."

"How can there be anything worse than this? The whole college knows I just got a bed and a massive box of condoms from a new boyfriend. I can never leave this room again."

"That won't actually make the rumors any less interesting..."

"Shut up! Arrrrrrrgh! Shut up shut up shut up shut up!"

"So since the delivery people took your old bed away and you're sort of, ah, stuck with this new situation, I thought we'd eat pizza and assemble the bed together."

"You," I said, turning on her. "You did this to me. You are the most evil roommate ever. Somehow you turned my life upside down and because of it complete strangers just carried my bed out of here. I hadn't changed the sheets this week. I am going to die now. About a billion times. You did all this."

"Um... so to make it up to you... you don't owe me for the pizza?"

"Oh, sister, the ways you owe me can't be calculated in pizza units. Oh fuck, I wonder if Elena can be bribed."

Sy giggled nervously. "Elena, paid to be quiet. Let's... just... let's just assemble the bed, ok?"

"Why not. I do have to sleep tonight, after all. He's rich, why didn't he have them assemble on delivery?"

"Really, you don't know? Because he wants you to have the experience of building a place for you and he to be intimate. He is directing your hands to do something that will please him. And you must obey, unless you like the floor better. It isn't subtle and it works very well."

We shredded boxes, pulled out huge boards, bags of massive metal parts. The instructions filled six pages.

"This is so complicated. I've never seen a bed with screws this big. And what are all these big hooks for?"

Sy was expressionless and silent.

"What..."

She pointed to the headboard and sideboards and legs. They had holes drilled in them. I stared at the instructions in horror. Holes for the hooks.

I started crying.

+++

It was 6:59pm on the 12th, and I was shivering. Sy had just gone out on errands – the timing was suspiciously convenient. 

We'd run out of brownies the day before – I did not forgive Sy for giving two to each of the delivery men that brought my bed – so we'd made more this morning, and the smell of them filled the apartment. I knew better than to do nervous eating but the temptation was there. I wasn't sure how brownies had become the currency of my relationships and the common thread of my experiences, but they were and this, again, was something to blame on Sy. She was down to 129 pounds. I so very much wanted to murder her in her sleep.

I had spent an hour on my outfit. It was old grey sweatpants, splattered with green paint from an art project, and a baggy sweatshirt, an unrelated shade of grey, with a full coverage white bra, and panties which were notable for not coming from Victoria Secret. Under all that I'd washed up carefully and I'd done my hair nicely and done a bit with nail polish and wore a little perfume, because who was I kidding anyway, but damnit I was not the sort of girl to dress it hot on a second date.

For the last three nights I'd been online with him. He hadn't come. The first and third time he'd edged me so cruelly I'd cried. The time in the middle we'd only talked. (The bed had not been discussed other than a polite thank you, and I'd kept it out of the camera's field of view when we'd chatted.) But it was ok. I wasn't horny. You can't be horny in a baggy grey sweatshirt with a chocolate smear on the shoulder, it's just not possible. The shivers were anticipation, not arousal.

7:02pm. He was late. Technically. I mean you aren't late until you are five minutes late and he wasn't five minutes late yet but still he'd landed on time – the terse text from the airport had made that obvious – so I'd have expected him to have gotten here exactly when he said he would, because that was just the way a dominant male should be. Traffic should get out of his way and the wind should get behind his car and gently blow and-

Ok, I was thinking a bunch of nonsense. Silly me. But maybe I should text him because it would be nice to know exactly when he was arriving. 

I opened the phone. It said 6:59pm. I'd been going from the living room clock, which was apparently four minutes fast. As I looked at it, it changed to 7:00pm and there was a knock at the door-

"Come in," I said in a small voice. That had been kind of creepy.

He swept in, in a dark suit and carrying two suitcases. He tossed them aside, walked over to me and kissed me. It was a ruthless kiss; he gathered my hair in his hand and drew me up to my full height, and then to my tiptoes, and moved his mouth over mine, insistently. I tried to pull back and he growled against my lips and that was the end of my struggles. Then he was nibbling my lower lip and staring into my eyes, and then kissing me again. Slowly, my arms went around him and my kiss became more... accommodating. And then warm. And then, with a soft whimper, enthusiastic. I reminded myself that I was supposed to be annoyed at him for the bed thing, and I got my revenge by not pressing myself against the length of him. Very much.

He broke the kiss, and pulled my hair downwards, firmly, not roughly. It took a moment to realize what he intended, but then I folded to my knees. The kiss had banished the shivers but now they were back.

"The kiss helps," he said. "I'm not used to denying myself the pleasure of women for this long. You see what your kiss does to me."

I looked, and looked away. The way he tented his suit pants was not good for my self-control. I turns out that I was wrong about the sweatshirt. It's entirely possible to be horny in one. I'd never trust it again.

"Your outfit though... I come to you in a suit and I get this baggy thing in return? Take it off, Clarissa."

"I- Stefan-"

"I'd prefer not to cut all your clothing to ribbons, Clarissa. Take it off."

I swallowed. I had agreed to submission. I had. I'd agreed to it not knowing the ramifications and having no idea how it would turn out, and that was very unlike me. Somehow I'd imagined he'd gently ease into his role as my controlling influence, but he didn't. And then I spotted the error in my thinking. For him it wasn't a role. It was what he was. 

Sy, Andrei and Stefan all knew what they were and they accepted it. I still had no idea. And that made me clumsy and graceless within my own life, while they all moved purposefully in directions that made such perfect sense.

I took off the sweatshirt and lay it on the floor. Maybe it had been doing some good after all, because taking it off filled me with memories of what happened when I'd last been naked for him. It was so unfair. He'd made me feel intense sensations and my body wouldn't forget them. Warmth suffused me.

I looked up, swallowing.

He raised an eyebrow.

"The sweatpants too?"

"They certainly qualify as baggy."

I remember what Sy has said about No. I swallowed again. She'd made it sound easy. It was supposed to be easy. No was a wall that a man could not climb over. But he wouldn't like it. 

It was another fork in the path.

"I- would rather not. N-no."

His eyes were suddenly intent, like a hawk's. "You're frightened."

"I don't know the rules. But I feel like I'm going too fast, out of control. And I know that submission shouldn't feel like loss of control."

He crouched down, and looked into my eyes, deeply. His own were expressionless. 

His hand came up and stroked my cheek. Slowly. Lightly. His touch was overwhelming. I dropped my eyes but I didn't speak. I wasn't going to change my mind so easily.

"You're learning," he said, softly. "You know you have my attention now, my interest, and you are starting to test the limits. That No was harder than you expected, wasn't it."

"I knew it would be hard. You're... overwhelming."

"I'm going to take your bra off. The sweatpants will stay on."

I nodded, raising my eyes back to his. Somehow that had become easier than looking away. I didn't understand why.

He reached around and unhooked the bra, and slid it down my arms, slowly. His eyes never left my face. Then his hands cupped the sides of my breasts, and his thumbs settled over my nipples. He stroked them, in slow circles. "Good girl. Don't look away, look deeper. Only at me, only into my eyes."

He'd been toying with my body for several days, online. My body had been having flashes of intense need all day, so intense that I'd lost the thread of conversation with Sy a few times. That was nothing to this. Every rough brush of his thumbs made it harder and harder to think. The pressure of his thumbs against the hardness of the peaks, as he drew them back for another caress was so intense I felt little spams deep in my belly, over and over.

Time passed, and then I was burning, then shaking, then aching.

"Let me- let me kiss you."

"Not yet."

His thumbs moved faster, and the sensations in my belly became stronger, and continuous.

"You're ruling me through my sexuality. That's... not fair."

His fingers slid, closed around my nipples, squeezed. My breath stopped, and then became a soft sob. That tiny curl of pain, swirling into me and making the need so much more intense... 

"I am not fair," he said, softly. "I made you promise something before I came here. I think you remember. What was it?"

"That you could... just take me. Whenever you wanted. I was crazy when I said that, burning like this, you can't count that, I wasn't thinking- please let me kiss you, I have to do something, being passive and being touched is- I just get hotter and hotter. Please let me kiss your mouth!"

"Not yet. You tested me. Now I'm testing you. I'm going to take you, just as I promised. Hard and without mercy. But not until you remove the sweatpants. You made them a little test, a little battleground. Not a bad thing to do but it has consequences.... Now do not move and do not kiss back."

His lips brushed mine. Lightly and slowly. His thumbs kept stroking, around and around. Then his tongue parted my lips. His hands massaging the sides of my breasts. A gentle nibble on my lower lip. I had to please him. I had to. I had to kiss him back, wantonly, passionately, so he knew what I felt, and I wasn't allowed to. Another pinch. More of them, faster and faster, his tongue exploring my mouth; and then he slowly pulled me forward until my belly brushed against the hardness of him, rubbed against it. I had to please him or he'd think I didn't want him– and I wanted so much- so much-

"Stefan..." I whispered against his lips. "No more. No more. You know what this does to me."

"This is nothing, sweet Clarissa. But what of this?"

One hand drifted down over my belly, and then through the sweatpants he began a slow rubbing... nipple, clit, lips. His cock still hard against my belly. My wetness, my heat, my frozen lips so impossibly soft and sensitive, silently begging to be allowed to kiss back. And then his finger, tracing firmly along my slit, and then flicking against my clit, the impact muted by the cloth but that only made me want it more- and more- and more-

Sobbing softly against his mouth, I pulled my sweatpants and panties down to my knees.

Instantly his finger filled me and he growled "Kiss me back."

Heaven. My mouth begged him for roughness and he gave it to me, his mouth suddenly rough against mine and his finger pressing insistently against places that made me crave more. And then he tipped me onto my back, jerked the sweatpants away, opened my legs wide, opened his pants...

"Condom," I whimpered. "Not safe. You picked my most dangerous time to visit."

"And your neediest. You're burning. And look what your kiss does to me."

He lifted my head, made me stare at his massive cock. 

"Now," he said. "Crawl to the bedroom for your fucking."

I did. Wetness was trickling down my leg. He walked ahead of me, opened the door for me, and found the box.

"Legs together, bent over the bed. Grab the sheets in your hands. Head down."

"Please- Please I beg you- be naked when you take me-"

The condom went on, tight, shiny, and somehow it made him look even bigger and scarier. I took the position he demanded. My skin was pink from need and from the erotic shamefulness of crawling to be used.

His pants had come off but he was still otherwise dressed; my plea would go unanswered. His hands were on my hips and then he pressed, firmly in, and everything in me tensed. And then he pounded me, snarling like a wolf. Helplessly I arched back and up, and he grabbed my hair and forced me to keep that impossible position as he slammed in, over and over and over. The grip hurt but that didn't matter, nothing mattered but the bull-like thrusting and the way my body fit around him, aching and hungry and slick. 

"You are mine," he growled. "Please me."

Being called his... I don't know how to describe what this did to me. Possessed and fucked, and an expectation of pleasure, placed on me. A guy being happy with sex was always something I'd simply assumed – he fucked me, he was lucky and got to get off. Generally they had and if they hadn't I'd silently decided it wasn't really my problem. But Stefan demanded I serve him in a way I still didn't understand, and instincts I didn't know I had, woke up when he commanded me. My legs rubbed together, I swayed against him. My whimpers and little cries came freely. I ached to be more fuckable for him.

In- In- In- In- nothing mattered but the way he bent my joints and filled me over and over, and I squeezed down, coaxing, trying to grip him, trying to please him, shuddering-

"Take," I sobbed.

"No," he snarled, panting now, hungry. "Give."

And I did. There are no words for this. I abandoned myself to him; for one shining moment I was purely there for his pleasure and in that moment he came, shrieking. "Yes!"

Thrashing, cursing, his grip marking me, he emptied himself into me, staggered, and collapsed onto the bed.

I hadn't come. I didn't care, even though my body was shrieking in need. His orgasm had turned me inside out in a way I'd never felt. I crawled over him, undressed him, and kissed his body up and down, unable to stop myself. After a minute his hands come up and he pulled me against him, curling me in.

"Going to- have to- visit more often I think" he gasped, softly. "Are you ok?"

I shook my head. I had no idea what I was. I pressed my face against his chest and kissed it, gently. "No words," I said. "I felt something. No words for it."

"Knew you were perfect," he murmured, smiling. 

"Stefan, that was amazing. But I didn't come. And it was still amazing."

"Oh, you'll come," he said. "But first I need to find my brain. I don't usually fall asleep after an orgasm but I will say I'm pretty damn relaxed after that one."

"Don't need a brain," I whispered. "You're a guy. Just a cock." 

He slapped his hand against my ass, but having been spanked by him for real it was impossible to take this one seriously.

"Don't have that at the moment either."

"I've been done by things smaller than that, and they were at full mast."

"Get some standards, bitch. Pretty girls shouldn't have to put up with tiny dicks."

"They keep telling me size doesn't matter," I murmured against his ear.

"They never met me" he smiled lazily.

"And I'll make sure they never will," I said.

"Greedy. Hey... nice bed."

I had to admit it was. It was a massive four poster, California king with heavy, ornate dark wood and a polished birchwood canopy frame, festooned with black organza. It had taken three hours to put together, with both Sy and I straining to get some of the heavy wooden pieces mounted, but it was impossibly gorgeous. It also took up the whole room, which was a bit of a problem, and I hadn't forgiven Stefan for just doing this, but, well, it was absolutely beautiful. I'd googled the price and hadn't found anything exactly equivalent, but the things that came close had embarrassed me in their extravagance. I was very glad my parents didn't come out to visit me; explaining this would have been impossible. I carefully closed my bedroom door each morning now, because Elena had proven to be exceptionally curious about what I had in there and she was never, ever going to find out.

"You know you shouldn't have."

"Yes. And you know that tiny thing you had in here before was impeding my sex life and that wasn't going to be allowed to happen, now was it."

"A...bout the bed," I said. "The hooks this thing came with."

"Yes?"

"I had no idea what they were for so I threw them out."

His eye slitted open and he looked at me. "Good. You're kidding. Because if you weren't kidding we'd be starting a very different conversation."

"It's just that I don't think those hooks are strong enough to hold you in place when I start teasing you," I said with a straight face.

"You're a funny one. And for your information, those hooks are made from 25 millimeter titanium alloy rods, and anything that could bend them would shred the bed like tissue paper. Tool company, remember? Hardware is me."

"I noticed... So this is a custom order bed?"

"Not exactly. There's a manufacturer who specializes in high end furniture for people with specialized interests. I'd show you the catalog but you'd crawl off and hide."

"You're wealthy. You're not rich, you're wealthy." I did not want him to know I knew how wealthy.

"My company did well this year and the merger did interesting things to the stock price. And since I will be travelling to the US for business purposes and I need proper accommodations when I arrive, this was tax deductible under Romanian law. So this was a little extravagant but not quite as bad as you imagine."




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 05



His fingers traced me, suddenly. I shivered. He felt it, and smiled more.

"The leather straps that go with the hooks are in my small suitcase. Do you like the smell of leather?"

I shivered more.

"Because we're going to find out shortly," he whispered against my ear.

I shuddered. "It's ok. I'm good."

"I know you're scared but this is not optional training."

"I could say No again."

"That worked out so well for you last time. And this time I would overturn your request. You will experience bondage. I enjoy binding and I know how to do it well."

"W-why do you like it?"

"Control," he whispered against my ear. "Utter control. There are ways I want to touch you that you would be physically incapable of holding still for, no matter how obedient you wanted to be. The straps relieve you of the responsibility. You are free to feel, and only feel, what I want you to feel. You will sink deep into emotions and sensations. Your orgasm, when it happens, will be shattering. Afterwards I will kiss you all over and reassure you and cuddle you, and you will sleep very deeply. Tomorrow, you will awaken very sore, but very happy and peaceful. There's a greek word, catharsis. You'll know what you really feel. There's another, anagnorisis. You'll know who I am." He licked my ear, slowly. My toes curled.

"Maybe we could just eat brownies instead."

"A brownie is a wonderful idea." He sat up, with a soft groan. "Very nice orgasm. You have a sweet, tight little slit."

"You are the spirit of romance," I said. It would have sounded more impressively sarcastic if I wasn't obviously trembling. 

"Well, the bed's pretty romantic."

"Ok, yeah. Point."

He moved off. There were noises in the kitchen, and he came back with a little warm milk, two warm brownies, a lit candle, and the smaller suitcase. He turned the light off and settled the candle nearby.

"Is this going to hurt?"

"You'll be sore tomorrow. Maybe very sore. But I'm not going to inflict deliberate pain. If things get intense enough you'll stop processing sensations in recognizable ways, though."

"What's the candle for?"

"Light."

"Because I've heard of the hot wax thing."

"I am not into that. Now, can you do a lotus position?"

I shifted, already a little sore, and got into one. His hands moved over me, straightening my posture. When he was satisfied, he handed me a brownie and the milk. He knelt facing me, smiling a little, and nibbled. "Go ahead, eat and drink."

I did, slowly. The position was calming, and so were the food, but anticipation and fear still sang through me. "Stefan, I'm putting so much trust in you right now."

"You are. But Sy will be home in a bit and she's pretty protective of you. I'm stalling a little so she'll be nearby for this."

"It's weird that you coordinate with her."

"I don't know if she'd be so helpful to my cause if Andrei wasn't insisting. She's adamant that she only wanted you to understand her life, not share it. I think she feels guilty."

"She better." I finished the brownie.

"So." He pulled the suitcase onto the bed and opened it. He drew out a bottle of something white, and, of all things, a rose in a wrapper. "You unfold your pretty body and lay your head against my legs, and stretch out your limbs. This," held up the bottle "is skin lotion, ginger and citrus. I like the smell and it will make you more alert and more aware of your surroundings."

"I think the terror is already doing that."

"Good, good," he said soothingly. I uncurled, and got on my back, legs out, arms loose at my sides, resting my head in his lap.

"Close your eyes." And they fluttered closed.

Slowly, he worked the crème into my skin. He started with my face, massaging very slowly and lightly, and them my neck, more firmly. Then the shoulders. The smell was light, but got inside my head.

Then my breasts. He avoided the nipples, but they were immediately so hard I gave a little gasp. He was firm with my breasts, and my body responded; my limbs became restless. He ran his hands down my arms to quiet them, and my lips parted. His hands stroked under my arms and along my sides. He had large hands and I was so aware of them now, aware of the strength of them.

Then my belly, and it tightened under his caress. The touch was feather-light, and in seconds my legs were rubbing together. The arousal was building again, but unlike the sudden sharp flashes and hot burning needs I'd felt all day, this was slow... slow and relentless, like a tide. Every part of me wanted his hands now. 

My hips. Then was when I moaned. He'd gripped my hips brutally when he'd taken me and now his touch was different. This was about me, not about him. My body loved it, and my hips tilted, begging his hands to slide inward. He chuckled, softly. "Your breathing says so much about your feelings."

"Promise me this ends with me getting fucked again."

"It will, but it's a small part of what you will feel."

My thighs. That was maddening. The slight pressure, parting them... my clit was throbbing. His fingers worked into the vee of my torso but would not stray the last inch to my clit. I could not hold still.

I moaned again. "Three days of edge play. A week of denial. You gave me erotica to read. You made me build this bed and you know what fantasies that gave me. Stefan, I don't get wetter than this."

"No more words." I'd known that was coming.

He shifted, laying my head back to the bed, and worked my legs. Faintly I heard Sy come in, I couldn't focus on anything but his hands now. He massaged my feet, firmly, so it didn't tickle at all. Sensations shot through my torso, not the contraction of arousal, but something different. My body felt soft.

He rolled me onto my belly. My feet again; up my legs; over my ass. And then my back, his fingers forcing my fears to let go, forcing my muscles to unknot.

The light changed; I could see it even though closed eyes. I opened them. Sy had come in. She closed the door again, and settled wordlessly into a small chair in the corner, almost lost in the gloom with her dark clothing. She looked at me with unblinking eyes, expressionlessly.

That was unexpected. "Sy?" I whispered.

"Close your eyes," Stefan said, softly. "She's here to make sure nothing goes amiss. It's good practice for someone else to be nearby. Though maybe not this nearby. Did Andrei ask you to, Sy?"

"No, this is my idea," she said, softly. "I will leave if Clarissa asks."

Even in my hyper-aroused and sexualized state, I was struck by Sy's curious firmness. She had gotten me into this, in a sense. So she was going to make sure I was ok. From the sound of it she'd do it over Stefan's protest if necessary. I remembered what she'd said: she willingly obeyed Andrei, and the rest of the world could go to hell. She didn't give ground to men simply because they were men. Stefan was someone she'd freely defy.

Stefan murmured something in Romanian, and she replied with a soft "Nu." Romanian for no. It didn't feel like he'd asked her to leave, and neither one seemed upset, so I let it go, and closed my eyes.

I wasn't entirely comfortable knowing that Sy was going to see what Stefan could do to me. But I didn't think her presence was a bad idea either. And the way she'd floated in, settled silently out of sight and become imperceptible, made it easy to accept her presence. She was not a participant. I decided to say nothing and let her stay as long as she chose. 

The room became... I don't know how to describe it. We all spoke softly, gently, and the atmosphere had become something... holy is the wrong word and somber is not right, but there was a sense of mystery and peace in what was happening and we all felt it. The massage made me sink deeper into a kind of relaxation that was strangely at odds with the anticipation pulling at me. I wondered, rather inconsequentially, what would happen if Elena suddenly walked in. Would the mood silence her, or would she shatter the mood? Two equally powerful and opposing forces....

"There," Stefan murmured. "You are ready." That, I thought, was a matter of opinion.

"I'm going to arrange you on the bed for the binding. Just follow the pull of my hands, without opening your eyes."

He was gentle and it was easy to follow the direction of his hands. I was on my back again, hands at my sides, palms up. My legs were parted and bent. He let me settle in that position, and then lifted my arms over my head, crossing my wrists just above me hair. 

Then, he began to tie me. The leather was padded and not as tight around my wrists as I thought it would be. Next, my elbows, keeping them out to the sides, and there was some slack in the leather. Then a strap across my torso, with no slack at all. Then my thighs were each tied, holding me very open. Them my knees, and ankles. Finally, a strap under my breasts, forcing them to curve up.

I had never felt so vulnerable, and I was suddenly glad for Sy's presence. I was shivering, not exactly frightened but for the moment the arousal was gone.

Then he laid the rose on my torso, between my breasts.

"Sweet Clarissa," he murmured into my ear. "From this moment on, you are my plaything. You're about to lose the ability to speak, and soon the ability to see, and then the ability to hear. You will become a creature of touch and pure emotion. If things become unendurable, you bang your head three times against the pillow and things will instantly stop, and not start again. I don't expect that to happen but if you weren't given a way out, you could never find your way in. If you have questions, this is the moment."

"What is the rose for?" I was afraid the thorns would prick if I thrashed.

"The rose is for you," he said, quietly amused. "Did you think it was for Sy?"

The scent of the rose surrounded me, mixing with the ginger and orange and a trace of what might have been sandalwood. It was intoxicating. I nodded to indicate I was ready.

"Then here is a kiss to take with you where you are going." He kissed me slowly, gently. My lips clung to his as long as they could, when he broke the kiss.

He slipped a cloth around my head, and it became a gag. There was a thick pad of cloth between my teeth, though not as bad as I imagined a ball gag would have been.

"Nod if you can breathe well."

I nodded.

"If the time comes when you want to stop from crying out, you can bite down on that. It won't shred. Now you open your eyes and look at the candle. Only at the candle, never me."

The flame was small, steady, but bright enough that everything else faded into darkness. It was oddly hypnotic.

His fingers settled on my belly. Slow, light strokes. This wasn't massage. It was nearly tickling, but not quite, and every nerve ending was suddenly alive.

The strokes widened. Up over my breasts, and this time he did not avoid my nipples. My breathing changed again; faster and shallower. Helplessness changed everything, and the arousal was back, brutally. He pulled gently on the nipples, and then less gently. I arched to follow the pull, but the strap under my breasts limited my motion. I moaned, urgently. 

He shifted, getting something. "This is a special kind of paint brush, used in calligraphy. The touch of it is very sensual on sensitive skin. But it's soft. You'll see why that matters soon."

He slid the tip between my legs, wetting it. Then he began to paint my nipples, slowly and lightly. 

If I hadn't been so impossibly turned on it wouldn't have amounted to much. But I was already on fire, and there was just enough sensation to make me focus entirely on that endless, light touch. Gentle strokes, then a flick, then more stroking... unpredictable, shifting, teasing. The candle flame went out of focus, and I moaned again. I ached for more than the brush tip. I wanted his hands, his hard, rough, demanding hands. Everything became more and more sensitive... my next moan was guttural. I wanted to beg.

He wet the brush in me again, and then back to the nipples... but then slowly along the length of the rose, and down my belly, painting meaningless shapes that I tried frantically to put meaning to. Then lower. Oh... oh no. Suddenly I understood.

It brushed the inside of my slit, lightly, parting the lips. Painting them, over and over. I spasmed. More. More pressure, more roughness, please! Higher... please higher!

It moved, faster and faster. Not deeper, not higher. Suddenly I shuddered, trying to move my hips, trying to get more. Straining against the leather did nothing.

He chuckled softly... and flicked my clit with the brush, then stroked it, over and over. Soft, repetitive... and not firm enough to let me come.

"Wet, fuckable... helpless. Desperate. Eager. Burning. But above all helpless. I can do anything, make you feel anything. That is what it is to be mine." He whispered into my ear. The brush moved faster but that just made the shivering tension in my belly spasm faster. 

There wasn't an upper limit to need, I was learning. Fingers. Cocks. Tongue. Anything. Anything but this. Then the brush began a rapid flicking, and I began whimpering. My legs tensed over and over, trying to rub together. I tried to arch, to get his attention back on my breasts. I couldn't. The brush dipped into me again, and then flick, flick, flickclickclick...

His mouth shifted, settled on my nipple, sucked. Slowly, and then deeper and harder. I shuddered helplessly, trying to force my nipple deeper into his mouth, trying to grind myself against that horribly soft brush. All that earned me was his other hand, settling on the other nipple, slow pinches, fingernails just pricking, little pulls, soft caresses...

"Please!" I cried, but the gag made it incoherent. Suddenly his finger entered me, and withdrew immediately, before I could clench down. I spasmed from head to toe. I'd been punished for speaking. 

"No words, Clarissa."

The brush, his mouth, his fingers... my head began to toss, side to side. He'd edged me before but it had been brief and intense, and then a pause, and then brief and intense. I'd thought that was bad. This was impossibly worse. It was constant, continuous, no escape, he controlled everything I felt from moment to moment and I'd never known I could want like this. I thrashed, but it did not good.

Then he stopped, leaving my aching body to burn. He was doing something but I wasn't allowed to look.

Sy had no use for boys, she'd told me. I'd thought she was playing a silly semantic game. Now I understood.

He straddled me, suddenly. "Look at me."

I looked into his eyes, mute and desperate. If eyes ever said Take Me, mine did.

He took my hair and lifted my head, forcing me to look down my torso. My nipples were huge, and throbbed in time with my heartbeat. And further down... his cock, hard again, dripping with the need to take me. I stared at it. Anything. I'd do anything. What more could he want of me?

He released my hair, and tied a blindfold around my eyes. "Now," he said. "I teach you to burn."

He squeezed my breasts, roughly, and then did that thing he'd done earlier, with his hands on the side of my breasts, and his thumbs circling. Rougher, with my breasts pressed together. He made my breasts ache. "Please," I tried to say again, realizing too late that asking was a mistake.

He was still straddling me and now I was truly pinned down, his powerful legs pressing in on my sides. I shuddered, over and over, and felt a drop of precum fall on my belly. Then another. The more he handled my breasts, the more my slit screamed for attention. 

Suddenly my gag was pulled aside and he forced his mouth over mine. His tongue fucked my mouth, and the madness started. I would do anything to feel that between my legs. The faster and harder his tongue fucked my mouth the more I clenched helplessly on nothing where I needed that huge brutal cock. The image of it filled my imagination, and I realized what a blindfold did. There's no way to shut off the images your imagination conjures for you. Your mind plays movies for you and you can't stop them, you see visions of everything you need him to do to you that he isn't doing. I saw his cock filling me as I came explosively for him, coming, coming was the only thing that mattered, I needed to be fucked and then I'd come and come and come-

He shifted off me again. His finger, in and out, in and out, in and out, and- nothing.

I screamed. His mouth closed my mouth and he fucked my mouth again. I sobbed against his mouth.

He shifted, but I was too stunned to think what might happen next, and even without him touching me I convulsed in what needed to be an orgasm and wasn't.

Then his hand was in my hair, and he forced his cock into my mouth.

"Learn it. Memorize it. The smell, the taste, every curve and swelling and bump, teach your mouth and tongue what to do with a man's cock."

I have no words for this. Everything was about my uncontrollable need, but he demanded I please him. I could no longer think linearly, everything was fragments. I sucked, gagged, tried to take him deeper; he thrust into me, and just as I got my tongue up in that spot I knew men liked, his fingers entered my slit and I shuddered towards an orgasm that was more important than breathing, I strained in my bonds, every cord taut, my body a rigid thing-

He removed he fingers, and fucked my mouth more. When I shrieked he simply closed my throat with his cock. And pushed the fingers in again.

Colors. Feelings. Spasms so fast and intense they weren't pleasure or pain, just overwhelming sensation-

He moved again, and replaced the gag. I was wracked with sobs, my senses scrambled.

"Now we play a game called Trip To Hell," he said. "For this I need a condom... you like the sound of that? Don't be so eager. I am going to take you deeper, Clarissa. All this has been about your physical sensation. Now it becomes a thing of the mind. Listen to me very carefully. You are not going to move. No. Matter. What. Take that into your soul now because you won't understand what I say in a minute. You are a statue. Don't move!"

He loosened some straps, and then forced his knees under me, retied me...

He rubbed his cock against my slit. "You don't move. You do not squeeze down. Don't displease me."

He forced his cock, slowly, very slowly, into my shuddering body. Each gasp was a little desperate frantic scream. I had to squeeze down. I had to. Didn't he understand? I had to!

And then I felt that paintbrush again-

"No No No No No No No No No!" I screamed against the gag. "No!"

Flick flick flickflickflickflick-

He said something but there were no words here, there was only the squeezing down, I had to more than I needed to live but for some reason I couldn't remember I must not – must- can't – agony-

Sobbing like a baby I clenched, rigid again, orga-

He pulled out and slapped my belly so hard it let a handprint. 

"You have to last longer than that, Clarissa. We'll try again. Believe me it's hard for me too. Do this for me."

I tried to thrash away from him, but I was helpless. He slid in again, inch by inch, and I tasted salt from my tears. I was going to come just from the slow filling of my slit. Inch by inch until I was beyond full, I'd squeeze and come so hard I'd black out, he could only punish me so hard-

"Please him", a voice said, slowly, dreamily, almost child-like. "Obey him. You can."

"I can't!"

"We can. It's just an orgasm. You're more than your body. Please him by waiting. Yield to him. That's how you win him. Don't squeeze. Don't. Let go."

"Whose side are you on?"

"Ours, of course. I can't be on any other, can I? You're such a dolt."

His finger on my clit. His cock. Every sinew, straining, the agony, the tears, but I wanted to please him-

Suddenly I heard him gasping and groaning, and he was on top of me, pounding my helpless body. The rose pricked into me, but that didn't matter. I couldn't move, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was he was fucking me. "Come for me," he snarled.




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 05



For a second, nothing. I couldn't switch gears. And then... starting in my belly, and filling every crevice of me, everything at once-

I came in violent slow motion, and when I slowed down he hissed "Again", and my body obeyed. He forced orgasms from me again and again, I couldn't count them, my brain couldn't count higher than two... And he was kissing my mouth, gently, over and over, still thrusting... 

And then he came, thrashing against me. I just cried.

I don't remember him untying me, or the gag and blindfold being removed, or massage of my shoulders and belly and thighs that Sy swears happens. I do remember Sy leaving wordlessly, her own breathing a frantic pant. I remember him gathering my body, very slowly and carefully, against his, and his kisses, slow, gentle, hypnotic, and the flicker of a candle... I sobbed once, softly, clung to him and fell asleep. 

As I fell, a voice that sounded very much like mine whispered to me.

"You see? You can do it. Good girl."

+++

"Sy..."

"We don't have to talk about it," she said. She was helping me to the kitchen because my joints were so messed up that walking alone was scary. 

"We kind of do." I winced. "That was very kind of you, last night."

"And a little bit creepy. I know you didn't want to be watched."

"Honestly I pretty much forgot you were there. And you were watching over me. Once I was tied up that was kind of comforting. As much as anything could be."

"He pushed you deep. Are you ok?"

"Uh... other than the begging, and hearing voices, and not knowing how many times I came, yeah. I... it's... ok, Sy. It's a little awkward that you saw it all, maybe more than a little awkward, but I'm grateful as well as embarrassed. After all I didn't ask you to leave."

"I probably should have, once I saw that Stefan was being, well, aggressive but not unreasonable. I shouldn't have stayed."

"Because you got very turned on and that's creepy when a roommate is involved," I said, quietly.

"Well... yes. I knew I'd be affected by it. But honestly the way he took over was hot, very hot. I woke Andrei up and begged him for permission to get off."

"Don't worry, I was too sound asleep to hear it."

"There was little to hear. He made me use a vibrator and then told me if I wanted to get off, it would have to be with you watching. Fair is fair, he said. I declined. And now my hands are shaking, hours later. Andrei can't be out here for three more weeks. When he gets here I think I will give you movie money and he and I will borrow that bed."

"Also slightly creepy."

"I'll wash the sheets."

"Yes you will. Um... Sy. This is becoming..."

"Yes it is."

"We need a pinky promise. Or something. We going to see things, the guys are very... open about their sexuality. We have to learn to not care what the other sees. I mean I know you're good at that, so I guess I mean me."

She shook her head. "I have become very open, yes. But in front of a roommate is different. I mean last night I had to confront the fact that my roommate's boyfriend was hot. It's hard not to notice when he's naked. That's awkward even if I wasn't engaged. And you probably feel the same about Andrei."

"There's nothing wrong with how he seems to be put together. Ok, so part one of the pinky swear is, we don't do the My Roommate Thinks My Guy Is Hot And Now She Must Die thing. And part two is I Will Admit That The Noises From Her Room Are Hot and I Will Feel No Embarrassment?"

"Part two is tougher. But yes. Pinky swear, then?"

We linked pinkies, shook and pulled apart.

"This is still all your fault."

"Is this a bad time to mention that your bedroom door just opened?"

"He can't want more. I can't even walk."

"You still have so much to learn," she said, softly.



Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 06



Over a month or so, the relationship grew. I found having it be mostly online was very hard, and yet I felt real trepidation when Stefan announced he would visit. But as infuriating as he sometimes was, the affection grew, without me even understanding how. 

Once he brought Andrei along unexpectedly, which threw Sy into a panic because she had three tests that week, a paper due and was already having trouble focusing. Andrei did it right, from what I could see – he grabbed her, screwed her and denied her and screwed her and denied her and then forced her to come about four times in a row. Then he kissed her nose and told her in no uncertain terms to get her ass in gear on the school work. Afterwards, he went out and bought her an extra monitor for her laptop. It worked; she buckled down.

Andrei spent the rest of the trip practicing English, with both me and with random people on campus. Usually girls, I noticed. They were always happy to stop whatever they were doing and help the dark eyed, muscular foreigner. It made me feel better – if only a very little bit better – about the way I'd fallen for Stefan.

I also picked up some Romanian. By tacit agreement, conversations in the apartment were in English, mostly so Andrei could correct his language misunderstandings. They all delighted in teaching me a little Romanian, mainly the dirty stuff. It became natural to moan vă rog – please – when Stefan had me strapped down in my bed. (I just wrote that without blushing. Then I blushed because I hadn't blushed. This is a complicated relationship.) 

So it was all going very well... until I made a mistake. A very bad one. 

I can't say I was in any way unhappy with Stefan. He was merciless and affectionate, demanding and funny, and I'd come to understand I needed all those things. But he was so intense. He knew answers to questions I hadn't thought to ask; he could read my body with a glance. It wasn't because he had such deep insight into me; it was because he understood females in general, and most of the time I am a very typical female, because most of the time, most females are. His insight and power was calming... but also a little stifling.

I knew why he was so firm. Part of it was because that was simply his nature, and more of it was because he was managing a brand new baby submissive in a long distance relationship, and that is not easy. His emotional strength and unflinchingly firm dictates beat on me like a tropical sun, because I needed that. But there was something... I didn't know. Not wrongness, but a missing piece of rightness.

Sy always seemed so happy. I knew that she'd had more time than I did to adjust to her chosen role, and that she and Andrei were deeply in love, while Stefan and I were still stumbling towards emotional intimacy. But the idea formed in me that somehow, either Stefan or I was at fault for my vague disquiet. And once the thought formed that it might be my fault, I couldn't shake it.

I know – now – that what I should have done was gone straight to Stefan and tell him of my worries. And I knew it then, but... I didn't want to trouble him. This was the most intoxicating and wild relationship I'd ever known, and I was convinced that if he thought I was unhappy, he'd find someone else.

He fucked me mercilessly, but he hadn't used the L word yet, and neither had I. I guess I felt insecure, even though he rarely gave me a moment's peace. Somehow all that focused attention got taken as a sign that I needed to be watched, not that he desired my company.

Bottom line – I got confused and fucked up.

Somehow I decided that if I could observe Sy and Andrei together, I would gain more insight into how I should act, and what I should expect.

I know. I know. What Andrei expected of Sy had nothing to do with what Stefan expected of me. On top of that, as an engaged couple they just fell into a very different rhythm of experience than we did. Spying on their time together was simply stupid. Sy and Andrei were such a story book pair; Sy so sweet and perfect and happy (... and gorgeous and engaged) and Andrei so hot and loving and ruthless and focused (... and rich and engaged.) There was no better pair to learn from.

It was not as easy to arrange as you'd think. Andrei had little compunction about making Sy wander the apartment naked, or in only a short robe, and he'd grab her at any time for a quick kiss or fondle, but anything like true emotional intimacy happened in her bedroom. It was in there that I heard most of the giggles and purrs and soft words (and harsh snapped commands and muffled but ruthless fucking) that built their relationship. 

So I bought a spycam from Amazon. You would not believe how cheap these are, if you keep it simple. They don't have a lot of range and they don't run for days on a battery, but they can get a picture to a laptop twenty feet away, which meant I could put it in Sy's closet and see it on the laptop in my bedroom. Sy's closet was the only messy thing in her life, and her closet door was a little warped and rarely closed properly, so she left it ajar. It was a perfect setup for a clever master spy like me.

I'll skim over the clever master spy details. One evening when Stefan was outside the apartment on a conference call and the rest of us were at dinner, I excused myself and snuck into Sy's room through the bathroom. I planted the camera and was back in my bedroom in moments. Seconds after that I could see her room on the screen, and hear the faint echo of Andrei talking from the kitchen, over the earphones. It worked.

I closed my laptop and returned to dinner. I felt so clever. (I have learned a lesson from this: the moments in life when you feel just terribly clever, you are being a total idiot.)

Andrei was being especially funny; he'd been really working on his English and was nearly as fluent as Stefan now. Sy looked peaceful and content. Stefan was off on one of his interminable conference calls with someone on the west coast and would be busy for at least an hour. I chatted a little, and then excused myself, on the grounds that study was necessary.

As I expected they departed to Sy's bedroom. I could see it all.

As soon as the door closed, Sy knelt, apart from him, and removed the little robe; she was naked underneath. Andrei sat on the couch and shrugged off his own robe, leaving him in shorts. Once he was settled, Sy came over, knelt again, and kissed his foot. Then he drew her up into his lap and curled her in. They snuggled and began talking in Romanian, with little chuckles. Other than the kneeling and her being naked, they could have been any couple. And that surprised me a little. With Stefan there were always the trappings of domination. He was happy to cuddle – but I had to ask, and he would say no on occasion, to remind me to take nothing for granted.

Andrei kissed Sy's nose, smiling. I felt a flare of guilt. I wasn't learning much about submission; I was only spying on a romance. It wasn't that the submission and dominance weren't there. Something in the way Andrei sat, and Sy curled, made it clear that this was a relationship with a leader and a follower. Sy was very attentive to his hands and eyes and seemed to anticipate his moves; once he held out his hand and she kissed his palm, lovingly and reverently, which struck me as the most simple and insanely erotic thing I'd ever observed. The power and authority of him was there, but it was woven into the relationship, and expressed subtly. 

I smiled a little sadly, thinking that the only problem I had was that I was impatient to have what Sy had. Maybe the ring on her finger had gotten to me. I was about to stop watching when Sy, with an almost impish smile, shifted off his lap, and ran her fingertip very slowly and lightly along Andrei's cock, through his shorts.

I'm just going to say it. Stefan and Andrei are both pretty damn gorgeous, but they are different. Stefan has the better face, with piercing eyes and that chiseled demeanor that you just gaze at, forgetting everything else. He's tall and lean and commanding and women step aside, casting eyes down, when they see him coming. The eyes come back up again quickly as he passes, and they linger. I have no complaints.

But Andrei has a killer body, all lean hard muscle that you wanted to just nuzzle and lick. He had really good legs, and while his cock isn't the quite the monster Stefan's was, it is the sort of thing that holds your eye and makes you daydream. My breath caught as Sy's fingertip slid over it, and as it shifted under the thin cloth, she slowly stroked it again, along the underside of it, brushing very lightly against the frenum. She smiled up at him, playfully, with an Am I Bad? look in her eyes. 

His eyes darkened. Sy was clearly on a looser leash than I was, but she was still pushing her luck here by taking this initiative, and he was clearly amused, in an evil way. 

His shorts were silky, and clingy. Her fingertips moved over him, delineating his growing hardness and that sexy ridge clearly. I've seen porn that was duller than her wicked little smile and slowly moving, playful fingertips. Then she got her whole hand involved, pressing and rubbing, and immediately he was straining at his shorts, every detail visible against the cloth. He growled something in Romanian, and Sy slid to the floor, took to her knees, and lowered her head against his thigh. Her eyes were fixed on his bulge, and both her hands began to stroke it and pet it. Her hands looked little against it, and I swallowed. She gave a gentle push... and the head of it emerged from the waistband. I couldn't look away.

She whispered something softly, pressed her thumb in just that spot that men liked, and began to stroke in a circular motion. He growled again, softly, his body shifting and tensing.

It was her kneeling to him as she did this that got to me. I'd done similar things, but without stopping to imagine how it looked. How it looked was unbelievably hot. She was a slave serving her master, and all I can say is if there's a woman alive who doesn't find that secretly erotic, something in her soul has died. 

Her gentle stroking slowly, very slowly, worked his cock further and further out. The way she looked at it and nothing else, and the way she licked her lips and made them suggestively soft...

My hand crept down my torso. I was... just checking to see if this made me wet. I was only curious...

He growled a word, and shifted, and she slid his shorts down his legs. I stared. His balls were the size of large lemons. Moaning softly, Sy slid her hand under them, and gave them a sensual massage. His cock was rigid now, pressing into her hair. She turned her head slightly, smiled, and hesitated ever so teasingly... and flicked her tongue against it.

His hand went into her hair and he buried most of himself in her mouth, suddenly and violently. His other hand gripped her breast, and she cried out, softly and seductively, in that "frighten and hurt me more" way that turns men into animals.

I didn't think, I just reacted. My finger went in, and curled. I shook. I hadn't masturbated on my own in ages. I used to be a champion at it. Wicked tingles filled my body. I clenched down, again and again, as fast as I wanted, and then pushed a second finger up inside me. Fuck, yes!

What was on the screen was the hottest porn ever. She continued to kneel, a slave girl compelled, but so incredibly willing. Her little choking noises turned my tingles into a hot burn. The way she cupped and rubbed his huge balls was so sensual and so practiced. He'd taught her exactly what he liked. The grip in her hair, the roughness of his hands on her breasts...

My thumb ground against my clit, stopped, ground again faster. Andrei's smile was getting darker. He had enslaved all of her beauty, and could do whatever he pleased, and he gloried in his authority. And she had to take whatever he chose to inflict. Why is it so hot when a beautiful woman is driven to her knees? Is it because we want them to be punished for being beautiful? Or because we know that beauty lets a women get away with so much, so when there is a man that doesn't fall for that, we find him powerful and hot?

He released her hair, and she licked his cock up and down like a lollipop, and then sucked the head, insistently, almost frantically, making soft moaning noises. 

His body, all that muscle and sinew, changed from a passive to an active thing. He pushed her away, snapped something in Romanian, and she turned, settled on her hands and knees, and offered her ass to him, reaching under herself to masturbate.

I'm not a lesbian, as I've noted. That doesn't mean I don't think girl's bodies are pretty. Sy is overly blessed in that department, but she got a major winner in the ass department. And she knew it. She swayed it, lazily, smiling over her shoulder at him. "Dracu-mi ca animalul curvă care sunt" she whispered softly, and this was a phrase she'd taught me to surprise Stefan with someday. "Fuck me like the slutty animal I am." 

Somehow, her self-debasement was sensual, not repulsive. She could present herself as a total fucktoy, a mere convenience for a man, but somehow she wasn't diminished by it; she retained pride and grace. I don't know how to describe it. She did demeaning, even humiliating things, but was never demeaned by them. I don't pretend to understand it. But it worked on me and it worked on Andrei, and he reached over her with a massive arm and forced her head to the floor. She moaned frantically, impatient, her fingers flying under her. He settled behind her and slammed in, impatiently and relentlessly. There was no making her beg this time, no intricate foreplay; he used her like a whore, grabbing and pounding and snarling.

Her moans became a kind of frantic, breathy babble in Romanian, all short broken phrases. Probably it was all Take Me and Fuck your Slut and Yes, but suddenly there was one phrase I recognized and didn't expect: Hurt Me.

He slapped her ass, roughly, and then reached around and slapped her breasts. Just the once, but instantly she was begging for permission to come with a desperation I'd never seen in her before. His fingernails traced slowly and roughly along her sides and back to her hips, and then her gripped her so firmly I saw her wince again. "Nu," he snapped. She whimpered again, pleading softly and breathily, but he slapped her ass again, snarled, pounded, arched, and came in her. She thrashed, hair flying, and nearly sobbing in frustration.

He panted, leaned forward, and took her by the hair. Ruthlessly he pulled her still shaking body back, and with her eyes still unfocused in unsatisfied need, forced her to lick his cock clean.

That was what did it. I closed my eyes and just let it happen. I arched, gasping as quietly as I could, and came, shuddering in my chair.

Suddenly I was on the floor. Dragged to a kneel. My face was slapped, and then I was bent over and I knew my ass was next. But it wasn't going to be his hand; I heard the sound of a belt being pulled, and I whimpered in terror...

I know from classwork reading that at one time spanking children was common in America, and in some places it still is. I know that belts sometimes were used, along with switches and paddles. But I'd never seen a belt used or even imagined it, and to be confronted with the reality of it was terrifying. Stefan swiftly and angrily folded it double... and the smack it made across my ass, and the intensity of the burn that followed is something I will never forget. I screamed in terror, but he only repeated it. The slap of a hand can be a painful thing, but this was in a different category. I was shaking in abject fear, crying like a baby, simpering but unable to form words.

Suddenly Andrei was in the room. He didn't intervene, but after Stefan delivered a third slash across my ass he said something. Stefan replied in a few terse sentences, Andrei answered, and Stefan tossed aside the belt and threw me to my belly. I didn't try to get up. I couldn't; my legs would not work.

I heart quiet footsteps, and then Sy was in the doorway. She didn't enter. I couldn't look at her.

Stefan pulled me to my feet again. He glanced at my laptop, still showing the view of Sy's room, and then I was marched into her room, followed by the others. Stefan found the camera quickly, threw it on the floor and crushed it under his shoe.

I wanted to be on the floor again, curled in a heap, but Stefan's hand kept me fully erect and slightly on tiptoes. "This was beyond foolish," he hissed to me. "No girl has ever insulted me and broken my rules like this, ever! And to violate the privacy of a friend and her dominant? Look at Andrei's face! He finds you contemptible."

I couldn't look and I couldn't stop crying. I found me contemptible. I'd ruined everything.

He snarled "We are-"

"I knew the camera was there," Sy said, in English, for my benefit.

The room was suddenly silent. Then Andrei spoke to her in Romanian. In English she replied "I know. But she wanted to see and I wanted her to."

"No!" I wailed. "She didn't know, she can't have!"

Sy winced. I realized that I'd somehow just made everything worse.

Andrei said something in Romanian to Sy. He sounded more hurt than angry, and instantly she looked miserable and ashamed. He took a belt from his suitcase, slowly and deliberately folded it double, ran his hand over it, and waited until she settled to her knees, with her face to the floor. He gave her one across the ass, and flung the belt to the floor in front of her, snapping a command at her. She sobbed, but only once, and kissed the belt.

Stefan and Andrei settled into a brief conversation. I couldn't look at any of them, least of all Sy. 

"Stay here," Andrei said to Sy and I. "Until called for."

They walked out.

+++

Sy stayed on her hands and knees. She hadn't been told she could get up. The welt was already forming.

"Sy, why? Why did you say that?"

"He was about to dump you, I think. And I think I know why you were watching. It wasn't for the sex, was it."

Her voice was unsteady. I could hear her heart breaking.

"No," I whispered, between sobs.

"You made a terrible mistake. Romania has had bad history with secret police and spying. But even without that, you were blatantly disobedient. I don't know what comes of this. You may have lost him, but maybe not. They will talk, and Andrei might understand even if Stefan doesn't. Your ass, let me look."

I shifted, and she pursed her lips. "That will certainly bruise. But in a way that's good. His anger went into that. A male in authority should never hit in anger, and he will be sorry he lost his legendary control, and it will make him think. Classy you cannot learn of submission by watching. It's something two people work out, it's not taught. I won't lecture you, this is the worst day of your life. I'd hug you if I dared get up, but I cannot. Andrei knows I lied to him and this is a terrible, terrible thing. Worse than what you did by far. I will remember that hurt in his voice to my last day."

I just sobbed. "I can't do this."

"That's how you got into trouble. You thought you were failing and you wanted to learn better, didn't you. Foolish girl, we all think we are failing, even when we are not. That's what it is to be a woman, most days. But if you'd really been failing, Stefan would have spoken. That's what is freeing about it all. We don't have to listen to fears if we have a man to listen to instead. And no man is ever as brutal to a woman as her own fears."

Outside, the men's voices got louder. Stefan's was, angry. Andrei's was declamatory. I was aching in body and mind, terrified of their voices. 

"I'll... just leave," I sobbed. "I'll stay away until he's gone. I don't have to put him through a breakup scene, I'll just vanish-"




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 06



"Classy... as someone who has come to love you and your silly ways – shut up right now. Leave now and it is truly over. Stay here and you both have time to think about what you really want. Only if you are sure you do not want him, do you leave now."

"I want him so much," I sobbed. "I want him to love me."

"He does. You don't see it? He's just very... Romanian. He won't say it easily but I've seen him smile at you when you walk away. I know that smile. Love does stupid things. Men have no idea, what it is to be a woman in love. And we have to love them anyway, what choice do we ever have?"

The conversation in the other room got quieter. Consensus was forming; I knew the sound of it in any language. Things were being decided. 

I was being decided.

"What do I do," I whispered, stricken. "How will I sleep in that bed knowing how much I loved him and how stupid I was."

She had no reply.

A few final words from Stefan, and then... footsteps. I have never felt anything like hearing those footsteps made me feel. I curled on the floor, nerveless, tears silently pouring.

The door opened. Stefan came in, alone.

I crawled to him; I couldn't have stopped myself if I tried. I wrapped my arms around his feet and kissed them and sobbed, brokenly. "I love you. I'm so sorry."

"Now you say this? You had days to say it. You put it off until now? Stop crying on my feet." He stepped back. "Sy, you had better go to Andrei. He's more hurt than angry but you will face a lot of both. Dumnezeu să fie cu tine."

Sy nodded and walked out, head down, unshed tears shining brilliantly in her eyes. She closed the door behind her.

"Clarissa."

"I'll just... go."

"Idiot. You were doing so well. I wondered if you were ever going to make real mistakes. Well, you have, and much worse you cannot have chosen. You humiliated me in front of friends. Only Sy has done worse today. And you aren't going anywhere. Kneel properly, that sobbing heap you have become is disgraceful. No girl of mine poses that way."

"Girl of... yours?" I sobbed, moving into a kneel.

"You are a stupid girl today. You haven't lost me yet. You should know how I feel by now. But first things first. I hit you in anger. That was wrong of me. I've never done that before, and I am very ashamed. You will have to accept my apology if we are going to stay together."

"I do. Stefan I'm so sorry! I-"

"Shut up. We have a long way to go now, you and I, and you don't make it shorter by babbling."

"I don't think I can do this," I sobbed. "You need a better woman. I'm a selfish girl. You can do-"

"-Worse," he finished for me. "Didn't I say shut up? How disobedient are you going to be today?"

I cowered, silently.

"We have all made a mess today, except Andrei who is as always perfect in all things. And if you think I wasn't hurt by the sight of you coming and staring at him... for that you're going to pay."

My heart was bursting.

He sat on the couch, and sighed. "Lap," he said.

I crawled into it. I hadn't had to ask. He'd offered. Shivering against him, crying on him like a child, I found I couldn't stay silent. "So... why... aren't you punishing me?"

"I haven't thought of anything bad enough yet. But I will. So you love me, do you?"

I nodded, brokenly.

"Women," he said, "really are idiots. Only men are any worse." He kissed the top of my head, and sighed. "I love you too, it seems. You may know this to be true because otherwise I would already be gone."

+++

The evening was awkward to say the least. Andrei and Stefan had gone out to talk. I was standing at the kitchen counter, studying, because sitting down wasn't an option. Sy was kneeling at an end table. We were both naked, at the guys' commands. Sy's ass was covered in skin cream, which didn't hide the ugly red welt. At least she hadn't bruised. I had.

"I'm very sorry," I said suddenly.

"You've said that already."

"I know you're angry."

"How perceptive."

When I'd walked out of her room earlier, the first thing I had looked at was her hand, to make sure the ring was still there. It was – but there was a piece of black organza tied around it, obscuring it. As a cruel reminder of how seriously Andrei had taken her lie, it was as brutal a symbol as I could imagine. It didn't escape my notice that the piece of cloth used had been torn from the canopy of my bed. Whenever I saw that rip, I knew, my heart would sink. 

"I have to ask. The cloth-"

"We're still engaged. It takes more than a mistake to break what we have. But Andrei told me that I didn't get to see the beauty of the ring's sparkle, in just the way that the beauty of my honesty has been lost. You see how good he is at this," she said, a little bitterly. "I'd rather have your bruises than this."

"But when you go out-"

"-then I take the cloth off. He's ruthless, not cruel. A couple in Romania – I think a couple anywhere – it is very bad for them to reveal their problems to strangers. It is not done. Even hurt and furious he would not humiliate me that way."

"But-"

"Classy, shut up. Do you know what he has me doing? I am to be punished twice. Once in his way and once in a way that I choose. Do you have any idea how horrible this is, that I have to research my own punishment? Too little and he will believe I do not take this seriously. Too much... for the love of heaven I never knew what people did to each other in the name of obedience. So some of this is sickening to me. This is as close as I have been in all the time I have known him, to being outside his protection, to having to choose what happens to me without his guidance. It is heartbreaking and this is your fault."

"I'm so sorry-"

"Just shut up!"

Silence.

Finally she sighed, and looked up. "You got off, watching."

I blushed scarlet. "You know I did."

"Looking at Andrei."

"Sy... it wasn't like that. It was... the two of you. I used to masturbate to porn, you know that. It was like that. You and he are very pretty, very powerful... I mean, come on, you got hot watching Stefan tie me up."

"Anyone would. But I had a good reason to be there. I was watching out for you."

"I know! I know. But you still got hot. Well, I got hot watching you two. Look, I know how awkward this is. We're breaking rules that are so basic no one even talks about them. Roommate relationship stuff is private, off limits."

"For a reason. Do you know about Marcy and Jane? Jane's boyfriend started visiting the room when Jane wasn't around. Marcy encouraged that. When Jane found out..."

"Sy, I would never. Never ever. Stefan rules me now, I don't dare disappoint him in any way. Andrei is engaged to you. Never, ever. And it's not like Stefan doesn't meet my need for sex."

"Then why did you need to come? Think what that did to Stefan."

"I don't know! I like masturbating, suddenly I wanted it again and you two were so, so sexy! I felt... not neglected, but something is missing, and so I wanted something for myself... Sy I'm so sorry!"

"So I gather you're sorry about this, then." She said sarcastically, and then sighed. "Look, I understand. We are both in very intense relationships. But this is... sliding. There's a direction we don't want it to go in, either of us. I'm not going to even say it aloud, I think you know. We have to stay out of each other's relationships, we just do!"

I nodded. "I'm so sorry," I whispered.

+++

A week passed. Sy had been practicing forgiveness and we were talking again. Andrei and Stefan were away on business on the West coast – or rather Stefan was and Andrei tagged along to see California beaches and to get some distance from Sy. Sy was not very happy.

"It will be fine," I told her.

"I have seen him in bathing trunks. Maybe not so fine. And there are too many bikinis in California."

"It's not the bikinis you have to worry about. It's the girls in them," I teased.

"Wait. The girls who wear them are not called 'bikinis' too?"

Sy's English was so flawless and idiomatic, except for her fear of contractions, that it was sometimes hysterically funny in the rare cases when she got a word wrong. I couldn't imagine where she got this mix up from.

"No, we just call them sluts and skanks, if they are prettier than us. In a bikini you'd be a total slut-skank."

"Only because of the bikini," she said, a little sadly.

I sat down, carefully. The bruises had healed, but the first few days had taught me the value of settling gracefully and very, very lightly on chairs, and the lesson had stuck. Sy had complemented me on my new ladylike grace and demeanor. (I'd hit her with a pillow, and I'd meant it to sting.)

"I can't even imagine how you can miss that... that previous experience of yours. Even if you do, I guess it would be hard to ask him to make you do other guys at this point."

"Ha. He's more likely to make me be with girls. And don't even 'go there', roommate. Say the mantra."

We put our palms against each other's and chanted "Not lesbian. Not lesbian. Not lesbian." It had become our little joke because the guys were so fond of keeping us naked and hot that anyone – well, any guy – who walked in would assume (or at least hope) we were doing each other.

"So, you understand this mind stuff," I said. "What does psychology say? Can a girl be trained to be a lesbian?"

"Psychology doesn't know," she said. "Because no one is going to fund a reputable study on it. We do know that trying to change a homosexual to a heterosexual has such a poor success rate that it's assumed that the 'successes' are mostly bisexuals who found it easy to give up one desire. So I'd guess the other way doesn't work either. But there are people who think that all women are bisexual and repressing it. I mean women do find other women pretty. But I discount that idea. To a man, pretty means sexy. They don't really have independent concepts for those terms when it comes to women. So I think the bisexual thing is just a projection of guys with dirty minds and a misunderstanding about words."

"Ok, but imagine Stefan forcing me to have, um, experiences with a girl, and rewarding me with orgasms. His will is so strong and I ache to please him. What happens?"

"Every guy's fantasy says you become bi. There's a whole genre in erotica on forced conversions. And, ewww. But I doubt it works that way. Could he make you tolerate and accept sexual attention from a female? – I think so. Desensitization can be very effective. But there's core orientation, what we'll loosely call what you masturbate to when you are alone. Well, once upon a time you did, I think never again... but anyway, I don't think that's changeable. I don't know. One of the men I know in Romania leaned very hard on a younger girl in that way so he could have his threesomes and foursomes. She said she loved it – but I think she was latent bi and he just woke it up in her."

"Huh. Ok."

"Why do you even ask?"

"Because... he's going to punish me. I'm trying to imagine what would really freak me out. And what I come back to is a threesome with Stefan and another girl."

"Me?"

"My imagination won't go there after the way I got spanked for spying. And which girl doesn't matter. Having to share him with anyone...."

"Putting off the punishment has been punishment by itself. I gave Andrei my list of possible punishments, and he promised to look over it in California. For a week. I am truly frightened."

"In English that would be 'a punishment in itself.'"

She blinked. "How can something be in itself?"

"I honestly don't know... Which of your punishments scares you the most?"

"All of them. Well, no. I'm absolutely terrified of electricity. I have been since a child. They put power lines up a hill near the village and something went wrong and a man died. He sort of... no, I can't. You have seen sometimes I have problems touching light switches, and replacing a light bulb takes me half an hour and three towels. I'm so happy we have a gas stove."

"He's not going to electrify you."

"They sell these glass wands... you plug them in and they glow and spark. And if I were bound... no, I can't think about it!" 

"Then why did you put it on the list?"

"He knows I'm afraid of it. To prove I was sorry."

"Poor, sweet Sy. It will just be a spanking, you'll see."

"Well, we find out tomorrow. Let me check what time they will arrive." She picked up her phone and texted with the swift movement of someone in a long distance relationship. She pressed send, and looked up. "Now you know why I hate the washing mach-"

There was a faint trilling noise on the other side of the apartment door. I blinked, and we both went pale. A pause, and the scrape of a key...

"To answer your question, right now," Andrei said, steeping in with Stefan behind him.

+++

We both got to our knees, and Sy removed her robe swiftly. I wasn't actually required to kneel and disrobe when Stefan entered the room – one of the rare cases where Sy's rules seemed stricter than mine – but I knelt anyway. I was still in trouble and I would take no chances.

The men lifted us up and kissed us, almost in unison. I shivered and pressed against him; Sy gave a soft mewling sound. Smitten women could be pretty pathetic, I realized.

"Naked," Stefan said to me. My clothing came off as if it had suddenly untraveled, I moved so fast.

Andrei settled on a sofa, here in the living room. "To my lap," he said, and Sy slid in, gracefully, with visible shivering. He curled her in, fondling her breasts.

"I won't keep you in suspense," he said. "I know you want to know about your punishments." He gripped her hair and held her face against his chest, and she burrowed in. "You chose awful things, my sweet."

"Any or all of them," she whispered. "I just want it right between us again."

I turned to go, and suddenly found myself in Stefan's lap, facing Sy. His hands pinned me there, about four feet from her. 

"Do you truly mean that?" Andrei asked her.

"You know I do," she whispered. It struck me suddenly that Andrei was speaking in English. Some of this, I realized, was for my benefit.

"Yes. I do. And so we are done with that part."

"What do you mean?"

"I know you, my sweet. Inside and out. You suffered researching that list. And then, you thought on your choices for a week. I know you shook at times. I think that imagining all that for a week must be at least as bad as actually inflicting any one of them on you. You have already punished yourself. I still will punish you as I see fit, but your half is done."

Even curled against him, I could see a tear trickling across her cheek. "No one could be a better man for me," she whispered. 

Somehow, that shook me to my core. It was such a naked thing to say, it was nothing I'd even considered saying to any man, even Stefan. She loved so deeply and so honestly, and for the first time I understood how it worked. Andrei would never leave her. No one could give him more than she already did. A love affair I'd once considered degrading, abusive and wrong turned out to be the most perfect thing I'd ever seen, and I realized I had so very much to learn in life, and had so little right to pass judgment on anything. I think that was the moment I became a submissive, instead of just promising to be one. I was finally able to see the beauty and I wanted it for myself.

If that was the moment, it was good timing, because what followed was the hardest thing I'd ever experienced.

"So now," he continued. "You have masturbated three times a day to the picture of my cock, without coming?"

"Yes."

"To the floor. Kneel, hands behind your back, head tilted back."

Sy slid into a kneel in front of him. He stood and undressed.

I shot a panicked look at Stefan. He only smiled, a little grimly. "You're going to watch, my love."

Andrei slapped his cock against Sy's face. I know (from experience with Stefan) that no matter how big or even how hard a cock is, this can't sting very much. But it's the imagery that gets to you, and the smell and the sensation. Sy's lips became soft, full. Her tongue lurked just behind them, making a wet and inviting place for his cock to smack.

Slap. Slap. Slap. His cock was hardening. She was already breathing faster.

So was I, and I tried desperately to hide it.

Stefan's hands moved over me, coming around me and cupping my breasts. I swallowed. This was... wrong. Even if I'd been across the room from Sy it would have been uncomfortable, but I was four feet from her. I was being touched. Fondled. Sexually, not affectionately, not even sensually. I was being forced towards arousal while having to watch Ken fuck with Barbie. This was so wrong.

Andrei pushed it in to her mouth, slowly, and held it there. Sy sucked, seductively, but he shook his head. "No. You will not please me. Passive."

He gripped her head and worked her mouth slowly and deeply. She moaned, already aching with the need to touch, suck, do something. I knew this torture very well. Women like us needed to serve and be pleasing, and the need became so intense when it was denied. So very, very intense.

Stefan's cock was hard underneath me. Part of me was unhappy that what he saw happening to Sy turned him on, but it turned me on, so who was I to judge? And then his fingers came over my nipples... and twisted, slowly. A moan broke from my lips. I'd resolved to make no noise, because noise is participating, and I must not participate in Sy and Andrei's actions. But I couldn't help it – and Sy moaned in reply.

"Let me touch you," I whispered to Stefan. 

"No. Hands on your thighs, and completely still."

I couldn't watch this. Sy was getting increasingly lost in her need to suck. Desperation, desire, that kind of confusion that settles over a woman who burns... it is erotic and vulnerable. It was too intimate. Though a camera there's distance and safety; you are only a spectator. Here there was no distance at all. I could smell Sy's arousal, watch every tremble of her lips as she fought the urge to suck him. She'd been forced to look at his cock every day, to worship it and think about pleasing it, and now it was here and she could do nothing. I could see in her face that it was tearing her up inside.

Andrei took it away, and posed her, moving her to her hands and knees. He slid his cock into her mouth again, deeply, and reached around her... his finger slid into her, slowly. "You do not suck or squeeze," he reminded her, his voice deep and insistent. He gripped her neck and moved her head, in effect masturbating with her mouth as he fingered her slowly, so very slowly and deeply.

She moaned piteously. It sent shocks through me. Stefan could feel my body react, and slowly, cruelly, his slid his finger down my torso, and very slowly stroked my vulva. I gasped helplessly. He was not pushing in. Sy had a finger deep in her. I needed that!

Andrei slid his finger out of her, reached under her, and slapped her breast. Then the finger went back in. Sy shuddered, making a choked animal moan against his cock. I remembered, vividly, she'd whispered "Hurt me" as I'd spied on her. I hadn't realized she was into that, but clearly it worked on her.

What horrified me was what it did to me. 

Stefan's finger slid over me, finding my clit. "No matter how I touch you, or how long... you do not come for me, or even make noise. Do you understand?" 

I have a terrified gasp, but nodded. He knew how to touch. I already knew he could make me incoherent with need with one finger.

Sy whimpered, and suddenly her other breast was slapped. I realized she'd slipped up and sucked him a little, and this was the response. Her huge, pretty nipples were so hard they made mine ache in sympathy.

"You like to watch, don't you," Stefan said, his lips against my ear.




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 06



"No. No."

His fingered moved faster, toying with my sensitive nub, then pinching it very gently.

"No?"

He slid his finger in, just a tiny amount. Then back out, and to my clit again, a quick firm rub, a pause, another rub... he licked my ear. His cock was throbbing against me.

"Yes," I moaned.

"You'd like to see her fucked, roughly, used like a slut," Stefan growled. Another quick, from rub, a pause, a sudden squeeze...

"Y- yes..."

"You are likely to get your wish." 

Two fingers plunged in. I sobbed, squeezing down. Heaven.

"No," he said, pulling them back out. "You must beg if you want to do anything at all."

His fingers pushed back in. "Please. Please can I squeeze down!"

"No you may not." He worked them in me, slowly. "Watch what happens to her. Burn."

A week of no sex, and daily erotica to read, and I'd been absolutely forbidden to touch myself. It had been easy the first two days, with a sore ass, but then it faded to a dull burn, and somehow that had intensified my desire to come. "P-please."

He took his fingers out of me and forced them deep into my mouth. I gasped, tasting, then choking... that made Sy cry out. 

Andrei took his hands from Sy, leaving her to shake. He moved off, went to his suitcase, and came back with one of the huge vibrators they use in porn. "Kneel and use this on yourself," he said.

Gasping, almost sobbing, she obeyed. As she did, he reached over and gave her nipples little... they were more than taps, less than slaps. It clearly stung... he did it over and over, fast.

"If you hadn't lied to me, we'd be fucking now. I'd be kissing your mouth and filling you with my cock and you'd be moving your sweet body to please me. Instead I have to punish you." He stood over her, slapping her lips with his cock again, pausing to lean over and slap her nipples. Suddenly her belly tightened. 

"Do not come, Sy. Do NOT."

"T-too –m-much... Too much.. aching- please. PLEASE. P-please use me, p-pound me, beat me w-with your c-co- Andrei, please! I need- need to please- I'm so sorry- I need to please you – need – hurts, PLEASE!" Then she fell into frantic Romanian. 

Andrei leaned over her, slapped her face, kissed her mouth slowly and sensually, and slapped her face again. It should not have been sexy, but I was churning inside.

Stefan's fingers violated my slit again, curled roughly and quickly. "I'll come," I whispered. "Too much. Too much! Please don't make me watch this! I'm so sorry for everything!"

"Do you remember, my love? Being bound and having my cock inside you and not being allowed to squeeze? How you ached?"

"No- no no no please no-"

He moved me to the floor, opened his pants, took it out. "Don't look at it. Close your eyes."

With my eyes closed, he guided me, slowly and carefully, back into his lap, and slowly worked it into me, settling me down inch my inch. I was sobbing before he was done. Then his fingers moved to my breasts, and he flicked at the nipples, over and over. "Now you will watch them. Look only at them."

Andrei's face slaps were not rough, but they devastated Sy. Something inside her, I knew, told her they were disapproval and punishment. The kiss that followed filled her mind with the all too-familiar, insanely powerful urge to kiss back, to use her mouth to beg for forgiveness; she couldn't speak but if she could kiss she didn't need words. But she could not kiss, and the next slap drove her deeper. And the vibrator against her clit – and the huge cock inside me-

"Anything," I said almost voicelessly. "I want to be pleasing. I want to come. I'm shattered."

"You will do anything to please me?"

"Yes," I said. I knew I was agreeing to some terrible punishment, but nothing mattered but the ache in my body and soul.

"And you, Sy," Andrei said, twisting her nipples. "You will do anything?"

"Always I will do anything," she cried. "Always."

He took the vibrator away, because she literally could take no more. He pushed her over, pressed his cock against her slit, rocked slowly. When he took it away it dripped from her. She held still, but her moan was a wicked invitation to rape.

"Good. You are to please Stefan."

The shock that washed through me – they had found the most evil punishment possible for me. I'd be forced to watch another woman please the man I needed to please more than I needed to breathe. 

"I obey," Sy whispered, shaking visibly. Jealousy and fear burned in me. She pleased men better than I did... and, secretly, she would enjoy this.

"And you," Stefan said to me. "You will please Andrei. Go."

+++

I was a frozen, horrified statue. I sat there with a cock inside me, and I was expected to get up and go to another man, while Sy worked her unspeakable skill on Stefan.

"Please no," I whispered.

He pushed me off his lap and to a heap on the floor. "Do as I command, or I will get the belt again."

"Clarissa," Andrei said, almost softly, "to me. Obedience may not be as bad as you think, but failing is worse than you could imagine."

There was so much wrong with this. Sy would enjoy Stefan. I knew her fetish and I couldn't bear that thought. And he would enjoy her because any man would. I knew why this was happening. I had enjoyed looking at Andrei and how had Stefan felt about that? Now I was finding out. But I couldn't bear it.

Sy's eyes met mine as she stepped passed me to Stefan. I read the apology there; she knew what this would do to me, but I also saw the raw desire. She was so deeply turned on, and Stefan's hard, massive cock would look like heaven to her.

Then Andrei's hand was in my hair, and he forced my face against his cock. "Lick."

No. Please not this! But my tongue came out and to my horror I ran it over the head of his cock. I desperately tried to turn off all feeling; because if Stefan thought I liked this he would hate me forever. His cock was thick, hot... I could taste Sy on him. To my shock that was erotic in a horrifying way. He could have her - he could have anyone - this cock had forced itself into many women, but he was going to have me.

No! This could not be hot!

He pushed it deep into my mouth. I tried to suck him, but he laughed, pulled out, and slapped my face. "You don't know how," he said. He gripped my throat, and pushed me back against the couch. His cock was hard from toying with Sy, and he forced me to look down and watch as he slammed it into me. "You will not come," he said. "I'm not nice to disobedient girls. Work your slutty body for me."

I sobbed as he pounded me. It was like a sexy dream gone wrong, my body loved what he did and my mind hated it, but that didn't matter. He wanted my body, and my body rocked for him, desperate to please him, to get him off.

I heard Sy's moaning, and Stefan's dark chuckle. His hands working her magnificent breasts, wrapping in her hair, and that monster cock grinding in, and in, and in to her perfect body...

"Watch them," Andrei snarled at me. I shook my head no in horror, but he raised his hand and that was all it took. I instantly turned my head and watched the worse thing in the world, Sy's body eagerly sucking and working his hard, hard cock with her wet pussy. And then Andrei's grunting changed. He was going to come. He was going to come in me, while I was forced to watch Stefan brutally thrust into Sy.

"Take it, slut," Andrei hissed. 

There was no shelter. No place to look. If I looked at Andrei, my body burned hotter, which horrified me, Stefan would see that, if he ever looked away from Sy. But if I looked at Stefan, getting off on pretty Sy...

Andrei came first, some in me, the rest splattering me and the couch. "Lick that up," he snarled, panting. His hands drove my mouth against the couch. I licked. My body was still spasming, wanting to come but my mind was horrified; and then I listened to Stefan come as Sy simpered and moaned and begged in Romanian...

When he was done, he spanked her and sent her back to Andrei's feet.

I gagged on Andrei's cum, and he chuckled darkly. "You prefer Stefan's? You can still get some." He forced me over Sy's pussy. "In there. Lick."

"No," said Stefan. "Clarissa, to my feet. I think you have had enough."

"Sy," Andrei said. "Lap." She crawled in, and he ran his hands over her, petting, giving her little slaps. She was so turned on she was nearly coming from the slaps alone. I was still horribly aroused, but too shattered to want to come.

"It's very different, isn't it," Stefan said, softly. "Just fucking like that... compared to what we do."

"Yes," I said in a small voice. 

"I don't care that you find men hot, Clarissa. Andrei had you, and I didn't bat an eyelash, because it was my will that he used you. Look at men all you want. But your body is mine. You do not come without my permission; your wetness is for me. I like a slick pussy, and you won't ever present me with a dry one because you've had your fun elsewhere. Not alone in your room, not with someone else unless I command it, nowhere. Everywhere you are mine. Now... watch Andrei and Sy. He's going to make her come, but using his hand. Coming around his cock is a privilege she has to earn again."

I never wanted to see Sy's body again, but he forced me to watch. Andrei fingered her pussy, her mouth, slapped her nipples, and then returned to her slit again, working her roughly. I think she fought to hold it back but she was too turned on, and when he whispered "Da" she arched instantly, thrashed, and collapsed.

"He can make her do anything," Stefan said. "That is what is in store for you."

I was shaking. He stroked my belly, slowly. 

"You have so much power," I whispered. "What just happened... it shouldn't have been possible."

"Anything is possible," he said, nibbling at my ear. "All is forgiven now. Come to bed. You also need to come and I have something in mind."

+++

He made me touch myself as he petted and toyed with my body. He demanded I be pretty for him as I did, and I was, by rubbing my legs together, licking my lips, and touching my nipples as I stroked my clit for him. The arousal from being fucked by two men was uncontrollably, overwhelmingly intense, and now that the shock had worn off, I was unable to want anything but orgasm after orgasm. Suddenly he slammed me back on the bed and took me, and I came, and came again, and he whispered to me about hands and cocks and having to, and the orgasms would not stop. Finally, he pulled out and made me cup my breasts with almost nerveless hands, and he splattered my face and breasts as I shuddered on the bed, almost convulsing from the violence of my own reactions. I sobbed softly from an emotion I did not understand, and fell asleep almost instantly.

+++

The sun blasted me out of bed the next morning. Saturday. Study day.

Andrei was out doing some early shopping, Stefan was on a call to Romania. I knocked on Sy's door.

The response was in sleepy Romanian, which made me raise an eyebrow. Andrei wouldn't have knocked and Stefan wouldn't have bothered her. "Sy?" 

"Da... Come in."

I looked in. There were stockings tied to her ankles and wrists, lying loose on the bed where they'd been cut. She was sitting up, slowly and very painfully, and removing a blindfold.

"Classy I could use a hand and no funny comments please. I am so sore!"

I helped her out of bed. This was becoming a pattern, I thought.

"Now you see what those weekends were like when Andrei would pull me off campus for the weekend. You never got to see me like this." She clung to me and slowly straightened. "I was having the most beautiful dream when you knocked. I was married and we had servants and they brought me breakfast."

"Well, that's likely to come true for you someday," I said with a little smile.

"No. Andrei doesn't believe in 'hiring servants for his slave.' And that is an actual quote. He is such a perfect man, except when he is not." She took a small knife on her bed stand and began cutting away the nylon on her wrists. 

"I think they are all like that."

"Yes."

"Well, I'm going to make you breakfast." I curtsied.

"Do that and I will marry you. Is polygamy legal in this country?"

"I think it's not supposed to be. I never looked it up."

"Schools never teach you what is important. I must have a shower first. You should too. I know the look of dried cum on skin."

"You get cleaned up first. Save some hot water for me." I delivered her to the bathroom and settled myself in the kitchen. "Waffles," I told the kitchen. "with strawberries and maple. Eggs, poached. Kiwi and orange slices. Chai tea, hot."

Nothing happened. Someday, I mused, we'd have better trained kitchens. For now, I got ingredients together and started mixing. Then I dusted off the waffle-maker I'd been given by Elena, who swore that it was a cursed relic of evil from her Italian grandmother, and that it had made her gain twenty pounds.

I had the preparations done by the time Sy got into the kitchen. "You cannot mean to cook all this."

"Right after my shower, and I will be fast."

I was. Three minutes, and that included washing the cum out of my hair. I could be efficient when it mattered.

"Get away from that waffle maker," I snapped when I returned. 

"I wasn't doing anything. Just... confronting my fears. The way that little light glows when it turns on... so evil. It's like some baleful eye."

"It is, in fact, cursed. It was once used to cook the living hand of an Italian nobleman who had committed adultery. He died shrieking, invoking his dark gods. Since then... it has hungered for blood. Or cranberry juice, it can't tell the difference. On every new moon I take it to the window and-"

"Stop. Stories like that... nightmares. You have no idea."

"Oh, Sy. I know so many ghost stories. Some night when you are too sore to move, we will spend a few hours confronting your fears as you put in. I used to have the entire girl troop cowering and crying in their tents until dawn."

"Don't! Never mock ghosts!"

"Sit," I said firmly. "I am going to cook now. Desserts, no. Breakfast, yes."

"If the waffle maker burns your hand, it is the vengeance of the spirits," she said darkly. I couldn't tell if she was kidding.

"Don't worry, I appeased it. By the way, we're out of cranberries. And has Stefan seemed a little pale to you recently?"

"Stop stop stop! An electrical device possessed. Thank you so much for combining my worst fears."

"Is that a spider behind you?"

"Stop," she pleaded weakly. I smiled darkly, and painted the waffle maker with oil. I palmed a few drops of water into it as well, and it hissed evilly. She whimpered.

"Spirits of darkness," I intoned. "I bind thee with... flour and egg!" I poured the batter in and closed the device. "Serve me, forces of evil! Serve me... breakfast!"

Eerie jets of steam emerged, but Sy missed it because she was looking around, carefully, for spiders.

"So... we need to talk," I said.

"I know. The sliding... happened."

"I don't know what to do or say. Except for 'I'm sorry' again."

"There's very little to say. They are men."

"I know you and Andrei, and I guess Stefan, have a... culture in which multiple partners is... ok? I still don't understand how that can be ok for you."

"Do you know how many women read stories about men who can have two women at once? Stories of harems are very popular. Not that real harems worked that way - that is all Hollywood. But the fiction is very popular."

"But this is different, Sy. I can't be part of your relationship. I can't be someone Andrei can get his hands on in front of you. And I can't ever bear to see you with Stefan again."

"Utter honesty time, Classy. The orgasm, afterward-"

"Don't! Just don't!"

"But I will. You were handled by two men and you came violently, didn't you. It's not just me, it's you, too."

"Fine! You can't have not heard me so what's the point of denying it. So thanks, now we know I'm a slut. But it can't ever happen again!"

"Then you need to have a long conversation with Stefan. It's possible it was just a punishment in his eyes. But... let's face it. Men have a fascination with multiple partners. Almost any man that can get two women in his bed, does it. Andrei has. If Stefan hasn't before, then last night was a start. And we are two pretty, sex crazed submissives in the same room; we are every man's fantasy brought to life. Worse, we proved we liked it, last night. Of course we may hate it emotionally, but we both respond to it sexually, and now they know that. I've spoken to a lot of women and they all admit to the two man fantasy. Now you know what the reality is like. You can be horrified, jealous, and as ashamed as you like, but your body knows that the only thing hotter than a cock is two of them. It is very, very addictive."

"Sy I'd have to move out. And I can't be with Stefan if he wants that again. He sprang it on me, I was being punished and I was not thinking clearly. There have to be limits, lines drawn."

"Do there? Does there have to be a limit? What if you just pleased him as he wanted to be pleased?"

"Are you saying you'd do anything he asked?"

"That's complicated to answer. That is what I have promised myself I would try to do. I trust that Andrei would never ask anything I simply could not do. But of course if Andrei suddenly turned out to be something other than the man I know, and asked for something immoral in my eyes, I would refuse. It is just," he eyes went down, "that because of my past experiences I can't turn off the dark desire to be used by men that Andrei allows. I'm not normal in this way. Andrei could certainly command me to serve Stefan again, especially if it means he gets his hands on you. I'd try to say no because I know what you would feel. But deep down I know Andrei can command me to be a slut."

"You're engaged. That means it's just you and him now, by anyone's rules!"

"He and I have agreed that when we are married it will not be an open marriage and we will only have each other. This is because I want children and a normal family someday. And that is what the ring means. Classy there is no point talking about it with me. You'd be horrified if you knew how little shame and jealousy I felt last night. I told you when I was drunk that I am not a good girl. I meant it. I am a very bad girl, and I am a jealous girl's worst nightmare. But, you can go to Stefan and plead that this does not slide further, and if he loves you he will listen."

"He'll dump me and find someone who likes threesomes."

"There are not so many girls who tolerate it. Everyone feels like you do."

I extracted a waffle, and poured another. 

"I know your worst fear," she said.

"It's not a fear. It will never happen."

"It doesn't have to happen, to be a worst fear. I know light switches will not shock me, but I still hesitate before I touch them. You're afraid Stefan can get to you as Andrei got to me, and that he could change you so completely that you bend to his will even in what you hate. That his dominance of you could make you vanish, and all that is left is his will. That he's that strong, or to say it more horribly, that you could be that weak."

I handed Sy her waffle. I was shaking. "I have to talk to Stefan. Now."

I walked away, leaving Sy to sort out her fear of a plugged in waffle maker, before it burned the waffle and caught on fire and destroyed us all.

+++

I walked to the living room. Stefan closed his phone and looked at me. "Kneel here, Clarissa."

"No. We have to talk, as equals."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening," he said, but there was something in his voice that let me know the ice was suddenly very thin.

"I can't see you with other women. And especially not Sy. I know that when you go to Romania you have those parties, and I know what happens at them – I think I can ignore that. Maybe. But to see it... to see you enjoying a girl like Sy... I will never be able to submit that far. If you try to make me you lose me. That's all I have to say."




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 06



"You're shaking."

"I don't want to lose you. I know maybe I just did. But I can't bend that way. If you can't honor that I know you are not a man I can trust."

He looked at me, and nodded. "For the moment, assume I will not ask that of you. But we will talk about this, logically."

"No. No logic. No A leads to B leads to sex with Sy. Logic is just a way for men to get what they want. Sometimes things don't have to make sense, but they are still right."

"There is a party coming up in two weeks. Assuming I am back in Romania, I would attend. But you can cope with that?"

"I can close my eyes and not think about it. And maybe we survive that way. I don't know. But to just watch you fuck another girl and expecting me not to care, not to hate, not to feel betrayal... you may as well ask me to walk to the moon. You can do a lot with me by controlling my orgasms, it seems. But that you can't do, no one can."

"What did you feel as Andrei handled you?"

"That's not what we are talking about. I understand that every man is a slut, and wants pussy after pussy. But just because we want these things doesn't mean they are good for us. Do what you want with girls, I know I can't stop you. But I can't see it."

"What you are saying is, I can fuck other girls as long as you don't see it. Wouldn't you rather have a promise that I only fuck other girls when you can see it?"

"No logic. No A leads to B leads to Sy or any other girl I have to see you getting off on. I can't see you with Sy... and I don't want you giving me to Andrei."

He smiled, slowly. "I can understand you not wanting to see me with another girl. I am surprised you object to being touched by Andrei. Given your... response, very surprised. And I think Andrei will be disappointed."

I'd been doing well to this point, brave and full of righteous indignation and all unflinchingly firm, but he said this, and I blushed hot pink. "I didn't have a response. I was just shocked and caught up in the moment."

Sy explained unflinching honesty to me, later. It goes like this. Women will lie to protect themselves, by instinct, and for the most part we don't let it bother us when we do. But because of this, smart men listen for the lies and know that it means they have found a soft spot in a woman's defenses. Sy's belief is that if a woman never lies, she actually reveals less.

All I knew at the time was that Stefan smiled, slowly, when I said this. "It was quite a moment, wasn't it. Your body, hot and wet from my touch, pinned to my lap and watching Sy melt under Andrei's commands. You shivered as I touched you, and you could not control your emotions, could you. You were surprised when I sent you to Andrei, but deep down some part of you knew it would happen. I saw your face as he took you, Clarissa. You were horrified of course, but deep in every woman there is the fantasy of cock after cock... I have seen women forced to confront that fantasy in the real world. Some are cured of ever thinking about it again. Others, like Sy, are aroused as they have never been before. I think you know which camp you are in."

"I felt nothing!"

His smile got wider. "As you say."

"I don't understand you, Stefan," I said coldly. "You saw Andrei use me. What he did wasn't lovemaking, it was fucking, using my body in a demeaning way. How could that not bother you? No jealousy, no shame, no pity? Nothing?"

"None of those things. If I saw you raped by a stranger I would rip him apart with my bare hands. If someone even only insulted you in my presence, and you didn't deserve it, they would be knocked to the floor by the back of my hand, and they wouldn't get up until they apologized. As long as you are mine, I will not let you be hurt. But last night you were in no danger of that. I will tell you something terrible, something hard to hear. You already know that a man's power over a woman is a very sexual and erotic thing. For some women that is perhaps not true, or maybe so shameful they refuse to let it be true. For you it is very true. The more I can compel you to do, the more powerfully you feel my strength and the more erotic it is. And there is very little more powerful than being commanded to use your own body how I wish, when I wish, in any fashion I choose. It touched you very deep inside, what happened last night. It made you more mine, not less. That may be hard for you to accept but I exercised authority over you and you could not say no, and you have fallen deeper into my hands as a result. I know that is horrifying for you. Every feeling in you says it should be just the opposite. But I did what I did because I know better. I made you more mine."

"How can yo-"

Sy screamed. "Classy!"

"Oh for-" I choked back a curse and ran to the kitchen.

Smoke curled against the ceiling, and Sy was trying, with oven mitts, to pull the power cord for the waffle maker out of the outlet. I'd thought she was exaggerating but she really was afraid of the damn thing. 

"How do you survive?" I snapped at her. "How do you charge your cell phone if you're this afraid?"

Stefan followed me in, and opened a window. I pushed Sy aside and unplugged the waffle marker, and I stared at her balefully as I licked the prongs of the plug, to prove how harmless it was. "It can't hurt you!"

"Clarissa," Stefan said, sharply. "Be glad Andrei isn't in the room. He takes it badly when people yell at Sy."

"Fine," I said, scraping the charred remains of the waffle into the disposal. "But she's not in a rural village in south east Backwardstan anymore! There are laptops and washing machines and electric stoves in the world. Ok so I get that you can charge your phone from your laptop, but how do you plug in the laptop? Look, Sy, I'm going to turn on the disposal. Run before it eats you!"

I know this wasn't fair. I lost it around cockroaches and I wasn't too happy with snakes either. But she was looking like a case for therapy to me. I suddenly realized why she never used a hair dryer and always said hair should be dried in open air.

Sy shot me a horrified and hurt look and fled the kitchen. I flipped the disposal on and off as she left and she ran faster.

The smoke alarm went off, and she sobbed from her bedroom.

Suddenly I was on my knees, with Stefan towering over me. "I'm not going to punish you," he said. "Because I don't get involved in squabbles between females. Instead I'm going to let Andrei punish you, while I supervise. I'll remind him about American laws before I do so he probably won't treat you as someone like you in rural Romania might be treated. Maybe it will only be a spanking but whatever it is, if it does you no lasting harm I will allow it."

"No!" I screamed. "I am done with being punished, Leave me alone!"

He reached up and turned off the smoke alarm. I fled to my room.

+++

Andrei got back to the apartment fifteen minutes later, and I knew Stefan had texted him. Sy stayed in her room, and after two minutes with Stefan, I heard Andrei go to her.

My fury was spent and now I was ashamed of myself. If Andrei hadn't come home just then I'd have gone to Sy to apologize, but I'd waited too long.

Stefan stood outside my door. "Get out here," he said through it. "We need a discussion, now."

Ok, my fury was mostly spent. But I didn't say anything stupid, and I got off the bed and went to the living room.

Sy was sitting on the couch, with red eyes. She didn't look at me. My anger evaporated, and I felt like shit. I was going into social work and the consumers of those services often had all sorts of issues, including mental health issues. Had I really made fun of a phobia? I sat, since Sy wasn't kneeling and no one had asked me to.

Stefan walked over behind my chair. "My girl behaved very badly," he said. "This is shameful to me."

Sy cleared her throat, and spoke, still a little thickly from the crying. "She's not wrong, though. I have a problem and it's serious enough that I need help with it. I've been mostly able to keep it hidden but I can't anymore. I know it's stupid."

My turn. "Sy... I'm so ashamed. That was so horrible of me. Please forgive me."

She nodded. "I do. And, I... understand, Clarissa. You have reasons for hating me beyond a ruined waffle maker."

"The waffle maker is fine," I said. "And it's the least of the topics. I don't hate you. I do resent some things. I feel like you're an impossible standard that I can't reach and shouldn't even be expected to reach. I'm not you."

"No one asked you to be her," Stefan said.

"Yes you have. You all have. Not her exactly, but submissive like her, sweet like her. It comes to her so naturally, everything does – grace, beauty, pleasing men. None of it is natural to me."

"Sy is sweet because she's been trained to be," Andrei said. "And I don't mean trained like an animal, spanked and whipped. She's been loved into it, slowly and steadily. She was born beautiful and I don't take any credit for that. But the rest she worked for... and sometimes was pushed into. And yes, sometimes spanked into. How many times have I spanked you, sweet Syeria."

"One hundred and seventeen," she said. "Not counting affectionate slaps when I tease you."

"You make her count them?" Stefan said to Andrei. "That's inspired. I had never thought of it."

"So," Stefan said. "Things have some to a kind of head. I've pushed Clarissa hard and finally she has snapped. I wondered when she would. If she'd only snapped at me I could have easily dealt with it. But taking it out on Sy makes it a matter for all of us."

"I didn't mean to," I said. "It was just... breakfast ruined, it got to me."

"You know our ways now," Andrei said to me. "You know how we feel about honesty, no matter how much it stings. Washing a wound with alcohol is better than letting it fester, washing a soul with truth is better than letting it rot. It's a gypsy saying, Sy tells me, and it is a good one."

"It's so odd," I said. "I thought gypsies were known for lies."

"We are. But not to each other," Stefan said.

"So now we are going to be truthful to the point of pain," Andrei continued. "And you, Clarissa, will learn this. It was not only a ruined breakfast that got to you. You're jealous and horrified of Sy's ability to accept men as they are and give them what they want."

Stefan added, "You're more in love with me than you want to admit and are horrified at what that could mean for you, because I come from a world that has thrown out all your rules and customs and social niceties. Your sex drive and curiosity have led you somewhere terrifying, but you can't let go."

"And the waffle maker isn't really possessed," Sy said. 

I stared at her.

"That is important right now?"

"It is to me," she said fervently.

"And you all believe all that." 

They nodded. I seethed. "I'm done with this conversation. This is ridiculous."

Stefan's hand was in my hair, and prevented me from getting up. "Let go!" I snapped.

"No," said Stefan. "You've lived for years in denial. You've believed a lot of garbage about men and women, because it's all enlightened and liberal and American to make everyone equal in everything. But something in your brain craves an older, darker world where men ruled women's bodies. You've discovered what it feels like and now your whole view of the world has gone upside down. You act proud and tough, Clarissa, but you're terrified, right to your bones. Not of sex. You love sex now. Not of being abused. You know I'll never hit you in anger again. You're afraid that all the rules and beliefs you've built your life upon are coming apart, and without them you don't know when to say Yes or No. Because I'm compelling and demanding, you're afraid most of all that you won't say No to anything. And it's a fair fear. People can get lost in submission. I've seen it happen to girls, girls I walked away from, because a girl so weak that she can't hold on to her own soul is never a girl who will be able keep up with me. I'm here because I am certain you are a girl who will never get that lost. You weren't raised to submit. You have regard for yourself and that is more than some submissive women ever have. You have the pride to hold on to yourself, even if I push you to your limits. But do you have the bravery to learn to trust someone else, enough to completely let go?"

"You don't think I do," I said. "Because you're holding me in my chair to make me listen."

He released my hair. "I want you, Clarissa. I don't know if I can have you. I don't change; women change for me. I know I ask a lot, more than you even realize, even now. I don't pretend it's easy to be my woman and only you can decide if it's worth the cost to your pride. Letting go of your hair right now was hard because a part of me says 'She might walk away, and then what? What of everything you hoped for?' But I let go. What are you going to do about it?"

I sat there, numb for a minute.

"I'm doing this day by day," I said. "Every morning when you aren't in bed with me, I wake up and ask myself what am I doing. I promise myself, just one more day, and then I'll get free of this... this... unholy pull on me. I keep failing. I keep wanting more of you. If I can't get away, it means I've given up control and if I've given up control I don't know what happens to me."

"Haven't you ever trusted anyone?" Andrei asked.

"No!"

"Her father abandoned the family," Sy said, quietly. "Her boyfriends got bored and she let them drift away because it was easier than opening up to them. Stefan... you ask her to trust, but Romanian women who have known you since birth, flinch when you snap at them. You are difficult, maybe even worse than Andrei. It took me time to see behind Andrei's hard exterior and find love. You expect her to trust you, but you are terrifying. You slam at her and slam at her through her sexuality, but Americans fear their sexuality. She's not eastern European. She wasn't raised to dance and flirt to get a man, she was taught about rapists instead. The reason I know she loves you is because she hasn't fled yet! Even after you gave in to your anger!"

"The problem with honesty," Stefan said to Andrei, "is that women can do it, too. Ouch, Sy."

"I love Stefan?" I said to Sy.

"Yes," they all said in unison. "You already admitted it," Sy said.

"I was scared and didn't know what I was saying."

"That's sometimes when people become the most honest," she said, shrugging.

"Then, let's all be honest," I said. "You, Sy. You said you wanted me to understand your life. Well, I could write a dissertation on it now. And then you say you didn't want me to go further. But you really did. You wanted someone else to make the choices you did because deep down those choices are still things you struggle with. No one around you has made the choices you have. You are lonely in your unique position. You want validation."

Sy just looked at me, a little stunned. "Check your family tree carefully," she said. "There is maybe a little gypsy in you after all."

"My great-great-grandmother was Czechoslovakian. So maybe."

"Long lost sister!" Sy said, opening her arms to me. 

"Careful," I said sourly. "I'm the black sheep of this extended family."

"Andrei, anything you want to confess, since the confessional is open?" Stefan said.

"Oh... I am still wondering why I get such pleasure requiring Sy to please other men. Afterwards I nearly rape her in my desire for her. I don't know if it is, what is the Americanism, healthy."

"I like that even more than you do," Sy said, softly. "Did I really keep that secret from you?"

"I suspected. Your orgasms hinted at it."

There was a pause.

"Stefan, what is your confession?" Andrei asked.

"Nothing, except wondering why I already love Clarissa so much. And the shame of bruising her, that will not go away, ever."

"It worked," I said. "Don't ever do it again, but it got through to me. It made me realize how much I'd hurt you. I used to taunt boyfriends with my little porn habit. And... well. Since we are all about fears and truth," I said. "This... group thing..."

"There is no group thing," Stefan said. "We are two couples."

"You loved having Sy last night."

"Most men would," he said, dryly. "But – and no offense, Sy, you know I am fond of you – that was about how she was shaped, and to punish you. Yes I loved it, but so what. You loved having Andrei, deep down, and I am not bothered by that."

"You're supposed to be!"

"No. I won't be held ransom by jealousy. I take what I want from those able to give to me. If I'm so insecure of your affection for me and my hold over you, that I cannot handle making you lick someone else's cock, then something is wrong. Making you my little porn star might very much bother you but I promise you it would never bother me. It's having you sneak off to get anything on the side, that cuts me."

"The sexual dynamics in this room are screwed up beyond belief," I said.

"Maybe that's why we all have such good orgasms," Sy said. "Men are bastards, and I want men, so I want a bastard. Mock me if you want, despise me if you must, but I take a strange sort of comfort in knowing I cannot control Andrei. He's a stone pillar and I kneel to it, it is almost worship. I accept what he is and I know what it does to my sexual needs. Every time I give myself to him I ache to make sure he's never had anything better than me. And oh does that make me burn. All of us in this room got hot over what happened last night. Is that screwed up, or normal? Yes, I admit to a pang of jealousy watching the way Andrei toyed with you. But only one of us is coping with shame this morning."

"Only one of us is sane," I said.

"But two of us are wet and two of them are hard. And all of us need breakfast," Sy said.

"Continue this in the kitchen?" Andrei proposed.

"That's a trap," I said. "I know all about it. Sy and I will prepare breakfast. We'll serve you food. Nothing reinforces subservience like serving food to someone. Men hunt food to show their strength and prowess and then give it to females to cook, so the females can serve them and feel like they are caring for the mighty hunters. Should we giggle winningly as we serve you?"

"You see how western thinking has ruined everything," Stefan said. "That could have been, the man loves the woman by hunting and the woman loves the man by cooking. But no, it has to be about gender politics and who is oppressing who. And I'll have a waffle, miss, no butter, real maple. Bacon on the side, some crisp but not too crisp."

I just stared at him.

"I will cook for you all," Sy said, rising hastily.

Stefan looked at me with the tiniest trace of a smile. "Are you sure that is how you want it, my sweet? Sy gets me off and cooks for me?"

"Damn you," I said, stunned. "Damn you for holding me up to a 1950's standard of the dutiful woman. Damn you again for making it actually work. You'll get your waffle no butter real tree sap, and the bacon will be medium crisp. Damn you for knowing that I'm already threatened by all Sy's Perfect Woman of the Year awards, and double damn you for making cooking your breakfast a thing I have to do to compete. By all that's unholy, you're a postcard from the last century. Barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen, that's going to be me."

I stormed off.

"I didn't understand some of that," Stefan said to Andrei. "Barefoot? And I'm sure she's not pregnant."

"Do not look to me to explain this," Andrei said. "It sounds like a nice family scene to me... Anyway, I will put off her spanking until after we eat."

Kitchens don't have doors, so I couldn't slam it.

++

I don't think I'd ever seen that much honesty in a room at once. Sy was right. It was like alcohol on a wound. It stung like fury, and you gritted your teeth, but it was good. I was very angry, but at least it was obvious to me that some of that anger was directed at myself.




Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 06



Stefan did have a hold on me. He'd said he loved me. It didn't matter how angry I got; that confession of love trigged a little smile in me every time I thought about it. 

Sy and I got down to cooking for the mighty hunters, which was a somewhat mixed metaphor, I realized, because we were also the prey. So in a sense we had cooked our own gooses. I started chucking at myself, and Sy looked at me, clearly worried. I just grinned at her, maybe a little manically.

Sy handled the bacon and eggs. I worked the waffles, drinks and toast. I realized now that Sy had never made toast, that mainstay of study breaks. The glowing toaster elements would be terrifying; even electricity hidden in a wire was bad, so that had to be much worse. And her diligently mixing the brownies by hand, refusing to use the electric mixer... it all made sense. I resolved suddenly that somehow I would help her with this. 

As an example of how you can know someone, even live with them, and never understand what happens in their heads, Sy stood alone. But as I thought about this, there was another case of the same phenomenon here. I saw it in the mirror every morning.

I wanted Stefan. I wanted to please him. I could rant and rail at his foreign backwards culture and his impossible arrogance and his casual disregard for the rage he could trigger in me, but he fucking had me. I didn't know how and I didn't even know why, but I was caught like a bird in a trap, and I could flutter my wings and chirp all I wanted, for all the good it did. All he had to do is press his hand against me and I curled into it, wondering how I could please him. It was as if he and I knew two different Clarissas – but he knew the true one. And she was eager to please, just a little shy, and had a dark sexuality that I had yet to touch bottom in.

I was going to be spanked after breakfast. Not for fun. Simply because I'd hurt someone's feelings. It was something you might do to a child, and that comparison should have enraged me, but deep down, where my railings and logic and cursing wouldn't reach, I knew it was not the same. A parent spanks a child and the child squeals in rage and shame and something like terror. A man spanks a woman and there may be shame, and there is a thrill of fear, but it is above all humbling. When I lay myself across Andrei's lap, under Stefan's command, I would not be a child who was forced to accept it. I was a woman who chose to accept it. It was powerful and devastating and sexual and if I dared look down as deep as I could, at places within me I never visited and sometimes pretended didn't exist... I wanted to be spanked. I wanted to humble myself. The Clarissa I didn't know said "Yes, Sir" - and shivered in gladness.

I had become a submissive. Submission isn't gritting your teeth and doing your miserable unpleasant duty. Submission is understanding that you want to feel another's power and focus, that it frees you from the fears you didn't know you had and the lies you didn't know you were clinging to. I could be as furious as I liked at that shiver of gladness, hiding deep, deep down – but my fury was the froth on waves on a shore, and the gladness was the deep ocean. You can't cling to froth no matter how hard you try, but you can always go another step deeper into the sea. I was being made to understand myself, and sometimes it was horrible but it was honest, it was at least true, and the sting of that was a good sting. Sy kept talking about honesty and I'd thought she'd meant mere honesty to others, but that was only a tiny part of it. It was honesty to yourself, that was the prize. I knew now I'd never have gotten there on my own, and the girl I had hated had done this for me.

We joked over breakfast, just as a release from the intensity of the living room conversation. Stefan had me repeat phrases in Romanian in the sexiest voice I could, and then Sy would translate what I'd just said (including any mispronunciations that changed the meanings.) "Tie me up with Stefan's smelly socks" was bad enough, but I'd mangled a word and it came out "Keep my smelly socks, Stefan" and it was five minutes before anyone could breathe normally again.

"Wash up, Sy," Andrei said, suddenly. I was a little bit grateful that Sy would not be involved in what was to happen next. The rest of us moved to the living room. 

"Go to Andrei," Stefan said, quietly. Swallowing, I did.

"Disrobe," Andrei said. To my surprise he pulled off his shorts and sat on the couch, with his cock out. I had absolutely not expected this. I pulled off my robe, suddenly shaking.

"You lie across my lap," he said. "With your belly against my cock. No matter what happens you will not grind against me. If I even think you are trying to get me to go easy on you by getting me hot, the punishment will increase sharply. Understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes what?" Stefan snapped.

"Yes S-Sir!"

I lay my body down across him, and he arranged my limbs... hands behind my neck, legs spilled wide apart, one foot to the floor. Stefan put a pillow under my head, ran his hand over me, and said something to Andrei in Romanian. "Da" was grunted in reply.

"This is for hurting my girl's feelings," Andrei said. His hand came down, suddenly and sharply. And then again. And then again. And then again...

The burn of it was fierce, and I sank quickly into the warm, trembling fear of his hand. I'd been bad. Each stinging blow made me know I needed to be... good.

His cock, under my belly, was growing hard, slowly pressing up into me.

I wanted it.

What was happening became clear to me. Being spanked made me sexual; it made me want to be a good girl again. But the way a woman is a good girl to a man, is to please his body. His cock was right there. I could rub against it, I could make it feel so good. Except I wasn't allowed.

Slap. Slap. Slap. I had to hold still, I had to...

I wasn't supposed to want to please Andrei. But my body only knew that a man's hand was angry at me and the man's cock was the way to placate him. Suddenly I was shaking. I must not move. I must not.

Slap. Slap.

And then Stefan slowly, slowly pushed his finger into my slit.

"Oh no," I whimpered. "Don't make me come to this! Not this. Please!"

It curled, suddenly. He knew where to touch me. He'd explored my bound, helpless body for a long time, and one by one it had given up every secret to his hands.

Slap. Slap. Curl... press. Rub. Slap!

"You will be kind to Sy," Andrei said. 

"Yes," I moaned. Oh fuck, I was such a slut, handled by two men and wanting to please them both.

"You will not embarrass me with wrong behavior," Stefan said, against my ear. "Ever again."

My body was tensing over and over. That cock, hard against my belly. The finger, thrusting, then joined by another. I squeezed down, and it made a squelching noise. Stefan rewarded me - or was it punishment - with rapid thrusting, a pause, more rapid thrusting...

Slap!

"Stefan, please!"

"Please what?"

"Don't – don't torment me. Pain, pleasure – you don't understand what it does to me-" 

"Yes. I do," he murmured, and then bit my ear, gently. "But you need this."

Each slap made his finger side inside me, unpredictably. 

"Stefan!-"

"Do I need to force you to be silent, with my cock in your mouth?"

I mewled. There wasn't another word for it. A cock in my mouth, another cock already slippery against my belly... I'd be unable to stop myself. I'd need that cock up inside me. I'd need to be fucked by two men at once. No! I couldn't let things slide that way! Sy said it was addictive! I had to be completely silent and not move! I had to be a good girl!

Stefan turned my head and fucked my mouth with his tongue.

Slap! Slap! The finger, curling roughly! His tongue - That cock throbbing against my belly-

"Will you ever be unkind to Sy again?"

"No," I shrieked. "No!"

Stefan shifted again. Fingers in my slit, and now fingers in my mouth, both thrusting, as he whispered in my ear. "Not much more, and then I'll fuck your brains out, I'm use my body to pound your stinging ass into this sofa..."

Cruelly and sensually he pressed his tongue into my ear. Tears leaked out of my eyes.

Slap!

Spasms. You can come without coming, I learned. Your body goes through the motions but with the last shreds of your sanity you hold the sensations back, and it is agony-

Stefan dragged my shuddering, writhing body off Andrei and slammed me against the couch, sitting me with my ass at the edge of the sofa. He did not need to tell me to open my legs wide. He forced a condom on and took me, roughly. Over my cry I heard Andrei shout for Sy, and she came running, put herself on the couch, whispered "Take me hard" in Romanian-

Stefan pinned my wrists down. "Come for me," he whispered.

The stinging of my ass, and Sy's breathy cries as Andrei forced into her not quite ready body, and the hands on my wrists, and the animal like thrusting- I wrapped my legs around Stefan and just sobbed as his mouth claimed mine, and his cock ravaged me, brutally. I came for him, cried, and came again, just as he did. Next to me, Andrei came in Sy and then forced her to lick him clean. 

"Bedroom," Andrei panted at Sy, and they staggered off, his arm around her waist. Stefan forced me to lick him clean as well, and then laid me on the couch and nuzzled his head against my belly. His hands stroked me, lightly. 

Deep peace flooded me.

"Good girl," he whispered, kissing my torso gently, over and over.

I shivered. I was a good girl... and it was because I wanted to be.