wiping the tears from my cheeks. He's so beautiful in every way – just like Michel. The blue eyes, the thick black lashes, the black hair, pale skin, the square jaw, the stubble.
But he has that scar. His hair is short. He's not Michel.
"Eve," he whispers, leaning back down to nuzzle my neck, his breath in my ear. "You have to obey. It'll make everything so much easier. Now, just let me in."
I lie beneath him, naked except for the blouse around my shoulders and the skirt and panties around my knees. My body responds despite my mind refusing him and I don’t let him in, my nails digging into my palms again. He hangs his head, his eyes closed. Then he climbs off the couch and leaves me alone.
I lie there for a few moments trying to understand what happened, my body so ready but my mind so unwilling. Finally, I get up, adjusting my clothes. I go to my bed and crawl back in it, pulling the covers over my head, crying as silently as I can manage.
I sleep for several hours, waking up when the sun goes down. I get out of bed and go to the bathroom to inspect my ass, to see what damage Julien did to me. My butt is no longer red but it's tender to the touch. I have a bath and get into my nightgown and socks. I remember how I felt after the spank and can't tell if it was from him affecting my brain or from the spanking. My body was ready. If he had just kept on kissing and touching me, I would have let him in eventually. But I felt as if I had to make him suffer.
And then I think I'm seriously fucked. Part of me just wants to give in and let this happen between us. But I still fight it, not yet sure if I'm ready to submit to him. I barely know him, no matter how much he looks like Michel. Submission, total submission? It scares me. Will I lose myself and become like O in The Story of O? That would be horrible. I am not her. I will not become her. She's everything I fear—a pitiful empty shell of a woman defined by the men who fight over her.
Later, Julien arrives while I'm sitting at the piano, practicing alone in the darkened living area, playing a Bach piece I know by heart, Prelude in C Sharp Minor. I always loved Bach when I was first learning piano – the perfection of his work, the precision needed to play it properly. I loved the discipline involved.
He doesn't come over but I know he's standing at the kitchen, drinking a glass of blood, listening to me. I finish playing and just sit in the stillness, wondering what he's going to do next. He comes to me and takes my hand, pulling me with him to the seating area again.
"Stop," I say, afraid he's going to spank me again.
"I'm not going to spank you."
He pulls me down onto his lap so that I'm straddling him, one knee on either side of his hips and it's far too intimate for his face is only a foot away from mine and I can't help but stare into his blue eyes.
He says nothing for a moment, just looking at me, his gaze moving over my face. I have to look away because his eyes are just too intense. I sit there, my hands resting on his shoulders, my face turned away.
"I shouldn't have spanked you when your pain block means I won't know when to stop and we haven't worked all this out."
"Julien, I…" I say, hesitating, for my emotions are just too close to the surface. I’m not really sure what I feel. "It scares me."
"I know," he says and I can just detect a slight bit of hurt in his voice. "I'm really not into this whole dominance and submission thing in a relationship. Sure, I’m used to using compulsion to get my way with humans, but I don’t consider that a true relationship. Humans are tools. Your immunity to compulsion makes this so much harder. I just can’t make you do what I want.”
“Would you have just compelled me to fuck you if you could?”
He runs his fingers through my hair.
“I don’t tend to become involved with humans any more.”
“Why?”
He pauses for a moment, running his fingers along my chin.
“Humans die. After the first
But he has that scar. His hair is short. He's not Michel.
"Eve," he whispers, leaning back down to nuzzle my neck, his breath in my ear. "You have to obey. It'll make everything so much easier. Now, just let me in."
I lie beneath him, naked except for the blouse around my shoulders and the skirt and panties around my knees. My body responds despite my mind refusing him and I don’t let him in, my nails digging into my palms again. He hangs his head, his eyes closed. Then he climbs off the couch and leaves me alone.
I lie there for a few moments trying to understand what happened, my body so ready but my mind so unwilling. Finally, I get up, adjusting my clothes. I go to my bed and crawl back in it, pulling the covers over my head, crying as silently as I can manage.
I sleep for several hours, waking up when the sun goes down. I get out of bed and go to the bathroom to inspect my ass, to see what damage Julien did to me. My butt is no longer red but it's tender to the touch. I have a bath and get into my nightgown and socks. I remember how I felt after the spank and can't tell if it was from him affecting my brain or from the spanking. My body was ready. If he had just kept on kissing and touching me, I would have let him in eventually. But I felt as if I had to make him suffer.
And then I think I'm seriously fucked. Part of me just wants to give in and let this happen between us. But I still fight it, not yet sure if I'm ready to submit to him. I barely know him, no matter how much he looks like Michel. Submission, total submission? It scares me. Will I lose myself and become like O in The Story of O? That would be horrible. I am not her. I will not become her. She's everything I fear—a pitiful empty shell of a woman defined by the men who fight over her.
Later, Julien arrives while I'm sitting at the piano, practicing alone in the darkened living area, playing a Bach piece I know by heart, Prelude in C Sharp Minor. I always loved Bach when I was first learning piano – the perfection of his work, the precision needed to play it properly. I loved the discipline involved.
He doesn't come over but I know he's standing at the kitchen, drinking a glass of blood, listening to me. I finish playing and just sit in the stillness, wondering what he's going to do next. He comes to me and takes my hand, pulling me with him to the seating area again.
"Stop," I say, afraid he's going to spank me again.
"I'm not going to spank you."
He pulls me down onto his lap so that I'm straddling him, one knee on either side of his hips and it's far too intimate for his face is only a foot away from mine and I can't help but stare into his blue eyes.
He says nothing for a moment, just looking at me, his gaze moving over my face. I have to look away because his eyes are just too intense. I sit there, my hands resting on his shoulders, my face turned away.
"I shouldn't have spanked you when your pain block means I won't know when to stop and we haven't worked all this out."
"Julien, I…" I say, hesitating, for my emotions are just too close to the surface. I’m not really sure what I feel. "It scares me."
"I know," he says and I can just detect a slight bit of hurt in his voice. "I'm really not into this whole dominance and submission thing in a relationship. Sure, I’m used to using compulsion to get my way with humans, but I don’t consider that a true relationship. Humans are tools. Your immunity to compulsion makes this so much harder. I just can’t make you do what I want.”
“Would you have just compelled me to fuck you if you could?”
He runs his fingers through my hair.
“I don’t tend to become involved with humans any more.”
“Why?”
He pauses for a moment, running his fingers along my chin.
“Humans die. After the first
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