Girl In The Woods (9 page)

“Good,” he says
when I have placed my palm over my sex. “Now, use your fingers to open the
folds and locate your clit. You will realize the spot from the sensation.”

I do find the
sweet spot but it is very sensitive and I flinch slightly.

“It feels like
that because you are not wet. Use your middle finger to insert it inside you.
Don’t look at me like that, bitch. Do as I say.”

I trace with my
fingers the path leading to the opening of my vagina and slowly stretch it with
my middle finger.

“All of it.
Don’t be scared,” he says, “and then slide it in and out.”

The feeling is
overwhelming. I didn’t know I owned such an entrancing gift.

“Close your eyes
and picture me being inside you,” he guides me, “Imagine I kiss you, I bite
you, I lick your nipples, I caress and squeeze your lovely skin.”

I bite my lip
with gratification. Being so close to me, but not touching me, is beyond
erotic. It’s not tricky to imagine he is the one bestowing me this delicious
bliss. With my eyes closed, I see his face over me, I feel his lips kissing me,
his hands dominating every inch of my body.

“That’s good, bitch.
Let yourself go,” he whispers.

I squeeze my
breast with my free hand, kneading and pinching my nipple, like he would do and
then lead it to my stomach, my belly and my inner thighs.

“Are you wet,
bitch?”

“Yes, my Lord,”
I manage to reply with a moan.

“Take your
finger out and pass your wetness along your pussy, reaching your clit.”

I raise my hips
in expectation as I cover my hungry flesh with my overflowing juices.

“And your labia,
also, bitch. I want all your pussy covered in your wetness.”

I am lost in a
world of sensation. My mind has gone numb. All I want now is to reach my so
desired release. My body fluids make my fingers glide easily over my clit. They
know exactly what they have to do, without any further instructions from him. I
rub it with force. My hips move to a parallel rhythm. I am so near to my
orgasm. I can feel it.

“Stop,” he says.

He takes away my
hand.

“Didn’t you hear
me? I told you to stop.”

I open my eyes
in amazement. Why on earth would he stop me just when I was on the verge of
reaching my climax? This is cruel.

“When I tell you
something, you have to obey, bitch. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Please, my
Lord. Let me go on.”

“No, bitch.
Trust me. Your lesson is not this. Stay still.”

He goes to the
table and brings some rope. Actually, they are three ropes. He uses the one to
bind my hands over my head to the bed and the other two to tie my legs together
as they are bent over my chest.

“Are you
comfortable?”

“Yes, my Lord.
But I really want to come. Please...” I feel my sex burning in desire.
Literally burning.

“You will, my
bitch. You will. Trust me. Have I ever lied to you?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Then, trust me.
I am going outside to cut some wood. I won’t be long.”

I hate him right
now. Couldn’t he cut wood earlier? Is this the right moment? But of course not.
He is doing it on purpose. I am helpless. I still move my hips up and down in
an attempt to relieve myself with no success.

Calista,
think about something else. Take it out of your mind. What to think, what to
think…

Butterflies and
puppies and women roaming down the street with baby strollers are all I can
think of. But not for long. The sound of the axe falling on the piece of wood
makes me feel uneasy. Somehow, I am wishing I was that piece of wood. To bear
his violent stab on me, even if it would kill me. This man has made all my
darkest and most primitive desires surface. Desires that only
he
knows
how to soothe and satisfy.

Finally, he
comes back. He smiles to me.

“How is my
little bitch holding on?”

I frown at him.

“Is this the
proper attitude to get what you want?”

“No, my Lord. I
am sorry.”

“You are not.
But you are afraid I won’t let you come. So, I think I will give you some more
time to think about it. I’ll go pick some berries.”

“Please, my
Lord...”

“Bitch, I didn’t
say you can speak. Only when I ask you something you have permission to do so.
When will you learn this?”

I close my eyes,
exasperated. Why does he always push my limits? Why does he want to break me in
every possible way? I decide to relax and stop fighting him. There is no use
anyway. He always gets to win and I am the one who has to suffer the
consequences.

This time it
doesn’t take him so long to come back.

“How are you
now?” he asks.

“I’m fine, my
Lord,” I reply, not looking at him.

“Look at me.”

There is lust in
his eyes that makes my heart beat faster. I want him so much, it physically
hurts.

He releases me
of my restraints.

“You can come,”
he says.

I want to ask
him to join me, but he will surely not like it. I can’t push him more, as he
might deny me even this way of release.

“If you aren’t
wet anymore, repeat the same process.”

He is right. My
sex has dried out after all this time of waiting. However, I seem to respond
faster to my touch now. Soon, I have reached the point in which I was before he
interrupted me.

I rock my hips
against my finger in a furious rhythm, but there is no release. My emotions are
confused and I can’t concentrate. I am mad at him for stopping me and
frustrated because he doesn’t accompany me in my effort to come. It seems like
a rejection and rejection can’t be erotic at all.

He comes closer
and blows a small puff of air on my ear. I moan. It’s the only type of touch he
is willing to offer me.

“I am lying over
you, my sweet bitch,” he whispers in a velvety voice sending shivers up and
down my spine. “I am kissing you, holding you close to my body, not letting you
go, leading us to ecstasy. What you are touching is not yours, it belongs to
me. Your pussy is mine to do as I please. And right now I want it to tremble in
satisfaction. Do it for me, my bitch. Show me how this pussy belongs to me and
that it obeys my wishes.”

His words ignite
an explosion deep in my belly. I orgasm spectacularly, screaming and shaking in
intense spasms.

 “My good
bitch,” he says, while I am still panting, kissing my cheek.

I fall almost
instantly asleep in his arms. I don’t even ask him for permission to sleep on
the bed, but the way he cuddles me tightly is the proof he doesn’t mind at all.
I think I am smiling while sleeping. Or perhaps I am just dreaming.

The next
morning, when I am about to get dressed and he is still snoozing, I seize the
opportunity to ask him what has been bothering me since the first night I got
here.

“How come you
have all these dresses and women’s clothes?”

He half opens
his eyes.

“How many times
do I have to tell you to ask me for permission when you want to talk to me?”

I breathe out,
exhausted by his behavior.

“Bitch, did you
just defy me?”

“No, my Lord.”

“I think you
did. Bend over in front of the bed.”

Great, Calista.
You just couldn’t resist, could you? You had to show your displeasure.

I bend over, my
buttocks facing him.

“This. Is. For.
Disobeying. Me.” Every word is followed by a slight slap on my behind. His
blows are so tame, that they feel like a fervent caress, rather than a
spanking.

“What do you say
now, my bitch?”

“Thank you, my
Lord.”

He extends his
hand and I bow to kiss it as he has instructed I should do when he punishes me.

“May I speak, my
Lord?”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“Why do you have
so many women’s clothes and underwear?”

“Do you think
you are the first girl that has come here?”

“I am not?” I
ask with a shrill voice.

“Of course not.
Many have come in the past, yearning to discover what you are looking for.”

I feel a sting
of jealousy. I don’t know these women, but I hate the fact that they got to
touch him, kiss him and have sex with him. I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do.

“And why didn’t
they stay?”

“There was no
reason for them to stay here after they had learnt everything I had to teach
them. They were released and they returned to their houses. Some of them have
revisited in order to let me know how their lives resumed. Most of them are
happily married with children.”

I am relieved to
hear that for now, it’s just him and me.

“And the
clothes?”

“Well, some are
from the rich people’s garbage, others belonged to the girls. Is your curiosity
satisfied?”

“Yes, my Lord,”
I say even though I have more questions that I do not dare ask him. I am dying
to know if he had feelings for any of these girls and why he didn’t get
married. Wearing their clothes is awkward and disturbing.

During lunch
time he asks me to take off all my clothes and sit on hands and knees in front
of him, while he is sitting on a chair. I obey, wondering what he wants to do
to me. I envision him having sex with me, replete with passion.

However, what he
wants to do is use me as a table. Yes, as a table. And not even as that. More
like as a plate. He places the meat and potatoes on my back and starts eating.
He orders me not to move at all. If I do, he will spank me. Grease has stained
my back and some of it is dripping down my ribs.

I am hungry and
disappointed. My pride is hurt. I was expecting he felt lust for me, but all he
wanted was to use me as an object. Is this what I am for him? An object?
Something that he can use whenever he feels like it? I bite my lower lip in
order to contain myself from crying.

I didn’t feel
like this the first day I returned. He made me crawl, eat on the floor and even
watched me pee. Why does it matter now? I found peace and satisfaction in
humiliation. Why does it hurt me now?

Silly,
Calista. Because you have fallen in love with him. Don’t you realize it? Your
feelings for him have grown stronger with every day that passes by. You care
about his opinion and you want him to want you, not degrade you and punish you.

Is this true? Am
I in love? I have never been in love before. But from what my friends have
described, I guess this is how it must feel like. I hate to admit it even to
myself. Where have I got myself into? I know he isn’t in love with me. A man in
love wouldn’t use his girl as a table.

“You are a good
bitch,” he says as a reward when he has finished eating. “Go wash yourself and
then you can eat on the table.”

As I wash myself
in the lake I let loose the tears that were struggling to free themselves.
There is a sweet pain in my chest. I want to serve him and obey him, even if he
doesn’t love me. Even just in order to be close to him. And then it occurs to
me. The other girls...They all left. In the end, I will have to leave, too,
after I have learnt everything I need to know. Will it matter though? I feel
like my heart is breaking in small pieces when I think I will have to go.

I wipe away my
tears, hoping I still have a lot to learn and that he will not get rid of me
soon.

I eat in
silence, lost in my thoughts.

“What is it?” he
asks me. He is still sitting on his chair, watching me as I eat.

“Nothing, my
Lord,” I mutter without removing my gaze from the food.

He gets up and
kneels beside me. He gently touches my chin with his fingers and turns my head
to him.

“Look at me.”

Hesitantly, my
eyes meet his dark, beautiful eyes and I cease breathing for some seconds.

“You have been
crying,” he says. “Your eyes are red. Why, my bitch?”

“It’s nothing.”
I lower my gaze again.

“No. Don’t avoid
me. Look at me. I need to know what you are feeling, my bitch. Did it hurt you
that I used you like a table?”

I nod.

“Why?”

I can’t tell him
why. There is no way I am telling him what I feel.

“It was
humiliating,” I manage to say.

“I have made you
do way more degrading things than that and you weren’t sad. Or at least you
told me you didn’t like something. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I
wanted to obey you, my Lord.”

And also because
I know that he wouldn’t listen to me. He expects from me to obey and only that.
Then again, it’s not his fault he doesn’t know how I feel about him.