His Indecent Training 4 (7 page)

Half the time, when I went over to
his house, we didn't even have sex, but he always made sure I had an
orgasm before I left. At least one, sometimes more. Now that I
thought about it, I really would like more sex with him. It was
strange to think he'd go the whole week without sex and then not be
rabid for it on the weekends. Suspicion returned to my mind. Maybe he
did have something else going on behind my back.

I huffed at the thought, trying to
blow it away. No. He had said he was mine. But then, why wasn't he
more upset about me going out with Colton?

Maybe I should have kissed Colton
after all.

When I showed up at Damien's door
the next afternoon, it was confusion city all over again. My mind had
poisoned my emotions all day, questioning why Damien and I didn't
have sex more frequently. I would have to ask him about it before it
ate me alive.

He had barely opened the door to me
when he said, “Go home.”

My heart sank to my feet, and I just
gaped at him. “What?”

“
Did I stutter? Go home and
spend the week thinking about how you upset me. When you come back on
Saturday, your day will start with punishment.”

“
Are you kidding me? You just
made me drive all this way to see you, and now you're turning me
away? You couldn't have sent me a text or something? Gas isn't free,
you know.”

His expression betrayed no emotion.
“You couldn't go a full week without seeing him. I couldn't
stop it. But I can keep you away from me. This is the first part of
your punishment, if it even matters to you.”

Was this really happening? I
couldn't believe what was coming out of his mouth.

“
So, since I blew you off
yesterday, you don't want to see me at all this weekend?”

“
Go home, Cheyenne,” he
said, closing the door in my face.

Anger welled up inside of me, and my
body went into emotional overload. I had been good. I had deflected
Colton's advances, and this was how I was being repaid. No. He was
going to have to deal with me whether he liked it or not.

With a scowl, I pounded on the door.
The gloves were about to come off. Fur was going to fly, and by the
time we were through, everything was going to be laid out on the
table. I wanted him emotionally stripped bare, as I had felt all week
long. I wanted to know if this was worth it.

His footsteps retreated, and it only
made me knock harder. “You get back here!” I yelled at
him through the door.

The footsteps didn't return.

“
God damn it, Damien! Stop
being a brat. You get back here right this instant, or I'm breaking
this fucking door down!”

My knuckles ached from rapping on
the door. When I felt like I couldn't knock on it anymore, I began
kicking it, leaving black scuff marks on the paint.

For all of my threats and kicking
and thrashing though, the door would not budge, and Damien wasn't
coming back. His stubbornness enraged me even further, but there was
nothing I could do about it. Words were my only weapon. If I screamed
loud enough, he could hear me, so as a last-ditch effort, I yelled,
“Fine. I hate you. I never want to see you again,” and
walked away.

The second I got in my car, I
regretted it. What had come over me? What was wrong with me? Part of
me wanted to get back out, run to his door, throw myself against it
and apologize. But would that make him any more likely to come out? I
doubted it. The damage was done, and to save my pride, all I could do
was scurry off with my tail between my legs.

And so I left, sobbing the entire
way home, to the point where I could barely see out my front
windshield.
If I get into an accident and die, it will be
his fault. I hope he knows that. And if he didn't, I would haunt him
for the rest of his life.

I spent the rest of the afternoon hating myself. Hating Damien.
Regretting. Regretting. Regretting.

At one point, I thought about calling Colton, about telling him what
had happened and going over to his apartment for comfort. I knew
where that would lead though, and for as horny as I was, having sex
would only make me feel worse. Not because having sex would be bad,
but because my mind just wouldn't be into it. Damien would be on my
mind, and that wasn't fair to Colton.

Did it really matter though? Were Damien and I over? Had my hateful
words put the last nail in the coffin of our dark relationship? And
should I even care? Anyone who made me feel that shitty didn't
deserve my love. Did he?

Even though alcohol wasn't usually my thing, I raided my father's
liquor cabinet and got couch-sloshing smashed in front of the
television, constantly flipping channels to find something happy to
watch. It seemed like every damned channel was playing some sappy
bullshit romance movie, to which I yelled “Boo!” at the
television at the top of my lungs. The neighbors probably thought I
had gone insane, and they wouldn't be far off the mark.

I woke up in a puddle of vomit on the living room floor the next day.
How I had survived the night, I didn't know. My father's bottle of
tequila was halfway gone, and I didn't remember much of what I had
watched. Class had already begun, and I was far too ill to attend.

I spent the day curled up in bed, nursing my hangover, drinking water
and vomiting stomach acid. The vomit could wait to be cleaned up
until later. It wasn't going anywhere, and neither was I.

Colton called to ask why I hadn't been to class, sounding genuinely
worried. When I told him that I was hung over, he asked if I needed
him to come take care of me. It was a sweet thought, and while it
certainly would have been nice to have been pampered and cared for, I
really didn't feel like being around anyone. At least, he didn't seem
upset about my rejection on Saturday. He never brought it up, so I
figured everything was okay between us.

That night, I stared at my phone, wondering if I should even bother
sending Damien his nightly text. If I did, and he didn't respond,
that meant we were over.

Did I even want a relationship with him anymore? When I had been with
Colton, I was confused, but I knew where my heart was. Now, I wasn't
so sure. This fight had provided me with an opportunity, an easy out,
if I wanted to take it, if I hadn't already taken it. Besides, who
was the one willing to rush to my side and take care of me? It wasn't
Damien. That was for sure.

Against my better judgment, I did text Damien, telling him I had
stayed home from college, and I was sorry for the way I had acted.
Then I stared at my phone until I passed out, waiting for him to
respond.

In the morning, I had zero text messages. There was my answer. It was
over between us.

I went to school with a heavy heart and a tear-stained face. My mind
was filled with regret, and all I wanted to do was curl up in a
corner and die. If I hadn't taken Monday off of school, I would have
definitely stayed home, but I couldn't afford to get any further
behind. Between classes, I cried in the bathroom. During lunch break,
I sobbed over my sandwich. The day was absolutely miserable.

When I blew Colton off to hang out after school, he looked concerned,
but didn't press me. Part of me was thankful, since breaking down in
front of him would have been embarrassing. But the other part of me
just wanted to be held and comforted. I wanted warm arms around me
and a soft voice whispering in my ear that everything would be
alright.

For that, I went to my mother's house. When I showed up at her door
in all of my miserable glory, she embraced me immediately, and when I
told her what had happened, she said all the things I wanted to hear,
that Damien wasn't good enough for me, that there were other fish in
the sea, that my heart would mend with time. How much time? How long
would it take? I had suffered heartbreak before, but it had never
felt so horrible. Maybe it was because Damien had been out of my
league from the beginning. It wasn't natural for us to be together. I
never should have had him.

My mom and I ate ice cream and watched Animal Planet together until
it was so late she practically had to kick me out. We exchanged a
lingering embrace before I finally left and headed home, feeling a
little better. The uncontrollable sobbing had stopped, and the tears
had dried on my cheeks. At least, that was an improvement.

Before I fell asleep that night, I sent Damien another text, though I
didn't know why. In the morning, there was no response again, which
only made me cry some more. He was avoiding me. Knowing that hurt.

While I was still upset, I was able to keep the sniffling to a
minimum. Occasionally, a happy memory of Damien and I together would
invade my brain, and I could feel my eyes watering, but I would
quickly push it to the back of my mind, trying to regain my focus on
school work.

Colton asked me if I wanted to talk about what was wrong, but I told
him no. I wasn't at one hundred percent yet, and I didn't want to
chance getting overly emotional. It made me happy to know he wanted
to be my friend though—that he was still an option.

I continued to text Damien every
night, though I knew it wasn't healthy. By Thursday, I felt
considerably better. Him not responding wasn't bothering me near as
badly as it had. I even got a slight kick out of thinking he was
probably considering changing his number since I wouldn't stop
harassing him.

That night, I hung out with Colton.
We studied and watched television together, and I was thankful he
didn't hit on me. While I was attracted to him, and would probably
eventually act on it, I still needed time to heal. When the moment
was right, I would tell him that my relationship with Damien was
over, and we could take things from there. Until I was ready though,
it was best for him to think I was still off-limits.

On Friday night, we went out with
Tanya and Vinny to a restaurant. When they asked me questions about
Damien, I was vague with my responses, though I knew Tanya could see
the pain behind my eyes. I couldn't hide anything from her, and when
we went to the bathroom together at one point, she managed to worm a
partway confession out of me. All I could tell her was that there was
trouble in paradise, but that I'd figure everything out, and she
didn't need to worry about me. She simply said that she knew Damien,
and I would fall apart sooner or later, which didn't make me feel any
better. In fact, it bugged me so much that I reflected on it for the
rest of the night.

Had our relationship always been set
up for failure? Did relationships between students and their
professors ever work out? Or had it been the BDSM that finally did us
in? I chose to believe the later of the three. If he hadn't been so
damn strict, this never would have happened.

Before we left the restaurant, I
gave Colton a gentle kiss on the cheek. He smiled warmly at me, his
eyes flooding with excitement. I couldn't help but grin at the fact
that he was so easy to please.

“
What was that for?” he
asked.

“
Just for you being here for
me. You're a really good friend. I'm glad we met.”

“
Me too,” he paused for
a moment, his expression suddenly darkening a little. “So, are
you going to see Damien tomorrow?”

“I haven't decided yet.”

It was strange, but I hadn't really thought about it. While I was
sure that we were over, it would be nice to hear something definite
from his lips so that I wouldn't feel so guilty about moving on with
Colton. Then again, hearing something definite would probably make me
cry again.

“Well, if you don't go, then we should hang out together, maybe
catch another movie,” Colton offered.

“Alright. Sounds like a plan. I'll let you know what I decide
to do.” I gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder and then got in
my car.

That night, I thought about masturbating. Lately, I hadn't really
been in the mood. Yeah, I got horny, but my body had been trained to
resist, so pleasuring myself wasn't that important anymore. Now there
was no reason for me to resist. Was there?

I sneaked a hand between my thighs, allowing my fingertip to caress
my pleasure button. It perked from the stimulation. No matter how
much I rubbed though, my heart just wasn't into it. You'd think that
after going two weeks without getting off, my body would have
plummeted over the edge in half a heartbeat. My emotions dulled my
senses though, and I kept thinking about how I needed the finality
from Damien to move on—with everything. It would be hard, but I
needed to see him. Or not see him. If he didn't answer the door, then
that would be as good of an acknowledgment of the end of our
relationship as anything.

“I'm coming over tomorrow,” I told Damien in a text
before I went to sleep.

In the morning, there was no response.

My day was pretty dull. I cleaned the house and recited in my mind
what I would say to Damien when I saw him—if I saw him. The
odds weren't good. In fact, now that I had warned him I was coming,
he would probably either leave the house or just not answer the door.
It was bratty, but whatever.

At four o'clock, I pulled up in his driveway. Instinctively, I opened
up my console, staring down at the training collar that was curled up
like a silver snake at the bottom. The sight of it made me sad. With
a sigh, I closed the console.

When I went to the door to knock, the butterflies in my stomach took
flight. It wasn't the happy fluttering that usually came from seeing
him. Today, it was more of a panic. The butterflies were trying to
escape, not wanting to witness the emotional meltdown if the door did
happen to open.