going to take a week off. Go up to visit my parents for a couple of days – they live in Tobermory.”
“Nice,” he says appreciatively. “I go every summer, it is beautiful there. Are your parents retired there?”
“No, they run a bar in town,” I mumble. As before, I’m unprepared for his warm interest. He’s making it difficult for me to keep my shields up.
“Are you driving?” he asks me.
“Yeah, I have to pick up the rental car at the airport tomorrow,” I mutter. Doug wanders over for a coffee refill; refills my cup as well. I take a sip. Good, strong, hot. Words I could use about Doug as well.
“In the morning? Are you taking transit to get to the airport?” he asks me. “I can give you a ride, I don’t have anything in my calendar until 11am.”
Again, I’m seriously tempted. It’ll take me an hour and a half to get to the airport from my house. But I shake my head again. “I really appreciate the offer,” I say, “but I’ll be fine on transit.”
Again, he eyes me expressionlessly. He’s not an idiot; he knows I’m deliberately maintaining a distance. But as before, he doesn’t say anything.
***
I take my leave right after breakfast. Doug has friends coming over to watch the football game just after lunch. He’s invited me to stay. I’ve declined. For the third time. We make plans to see each other next Saturday, and I run away.
***
Sunday night, I fall asleep in my bed, already missing the feel of Doug against me. And I dream.
I’m back in the House of Pain. I’m on the stage. There’s music playing and it feels ominous. The hairs on the back of my neck rise.
The stage is cold. My arms are tied above my head and I’m suspended onto a sawhorse. The knife edge of the sawhorse is grinding into my pussy and it is painful. My clitoris is raw. Every move grinds it even further on the edge, sending me into agony.
Doug moves in front of me. There’s no warmth in his face. He is cold and rigid. He has a whip in his hands and he whips me without a word, hard and fast. I’m shrieking in pain, but he is unmoved by my tears. There is no tenderness in this. No sexual pleasure. This is pain. Raw, agonizing pain.
I scream. I’m writhing in my bindings; and each move of my body grinds my pussy into the sawhorse; my clitoris is burning in agony. Tears run down my cheeks…
“Doug, please,” I beg.
I start awake thankfully. There are tracks of tears down my cheeks.
***
“It’s just a stupid nightmare,” I tell myself, sitting at my little table, drinking a cup of green tea. I’m avoiding going back to sleep. It was so real. So vivid. I can still see the look on Doug’s face. Hard and cold; absolutely no pity. A look I’ve never seen on his face in real life.
I wonder if my dream is a premonition.
***
Tobermory is thankfully devoid of tourists. It’s early days of fall, and the traffic dies down after September. My mother feeds me well; my dad and I play pool in the bar. I even beat him once or twice, which I brag about for the rest of the trip.
My mom asks about Colin. The last time I was home, I mentioned I was dating someone.
“We broke up,” I say, keeping the answer short. How do I explain everything?
“Are you seeing someone else?” my mom asks. I ponder Doug, this thing that we are doing, my nightmare. “Not really,” I mumble, and change the topic.
***
It is 6pm Saturday, and I’m at Doug’s door. I hesitate. My thoughts go back to my nightmare. Even six days later, I’m shaken by how vivid the dream was. I knock on his door.
Chapter 11
Alia’s familiar volley of barks greets my knock. Doug opens the door. He’s on the phone. He gestures for me to come in, waves in the direction of the refrigerator and mimes a drink. I’m assuming he’s telling me to help myself to a drink, and so I do.
I drink him in. I haven’t seen him in a week. He looks hot. Right now, he’s looking slightly annoyed at the progress of his phone conversation.
“Nice,” he says appreciatively. “I go every summer, it is beautiful there. Are your parents retired there?”
“No, they run a bar in town,” I mumble. As before, I’m unprepared for his warm interest. He’s making it difficult for me to keep my shields up.
“Are you driving?” he asks me.
“Yeah, I have to pick up the rental car at the airport tomorrow,” I mutter. Doug wanders over for a coffee refill; refills my cup as well. I take a sip. Good, strong, hot. Words I could use about Doug as well.
“In the morning? Are you taking transit to get to the airport?” he asks me. “I can give you a ride, I don’t have anything in my calendar until 11am.”
Again, I’m seriously tempted. It’ll take me an hour and a half to get to the airport from my house. But I shake my head again. “I really appreciate the offer,” I say, “but I’ll be fine on transit.”
Again, he eyes me expressionlessly. He’s not an idiot; he knows I’m deliberately maintaining a distance. But as before, he doesn’t say anything.
***
I take my leave right after breakfast. Doug has friends coming over to watch the football game just after lunch. He’s invited me to stay. I’ve declined. For the third time. We make plans to see each other next Saturday, and I run away.
***
Sunday night, I fall asleep in my bed, already missing the feel of Doug against me. And I dream.
I’m back in the House of Pain. I’m on the stage. There’s music playing and it feels ominous. The hairs on the back of my neck rise.
The stage is cold. My arms are tied above my head and I’m suspended onto a sawhorse. The knife edge of the sawhorse is grinding into my pussy and it is painful. My clitoris is raw. Every move grinds it even further on the edge, sending me into agony.
Doug moves in front of me. There’s no warmth in his face. He is cold and rigid. He has a whip in his hands and he whips me without a word, hard and fast. I’m shrieking in pain, but he is unmoved by my tears. There is no tenderness in this. No sexual pleasure. This is pain. Raw, agonizing pain.
I scream. I’m writhing in my bindings; and each move of my body grinds my pussy into the sawhorse; my clitoris is burning in agony. Tears run down my cheeks…
“Doug, please,” I beg.
I start awake thankfully. There are tracks of tears down my cheeks.
***
“It’s just a stupid nightmare,” I tell myself, sitting at my little table, drinking a cup of green tea. I’m avoiding going back to sleep. It was so real. So vivid. I can still see the look on Doug’s face. Hard and cold; absolutely no pity. A look I’ve never seen on his face in real life.
I wonder if my dream is a premonition.
***
Tobermory is thankfully devoid of tourists. It’s early days of fall, and the traffic dies down after September. My mother feeds me well; my dad and I play pool in the bar. I even beat him once or twice, which I brag about for the rest of the trip.
My mom asks about Colin. The last time I was home, I mentioned I was dating someone.
“We broke up,” I say, keeping the answer short. How do I explain everything?
“Are you seeing someone else?” my mom asks. I ponder Doug, this thing that we are doing, my nightmare. “Not really,” I mumble, and change the topic.
***
It is 6pm Saturday, and I’m at Doug’s door. I hesitate. My thoughts go back to my nightmare. Even six days later, I’m shaken by how vivid the dream was. I knock on his door.
Chapter 11
Alia’s familiar volley of barks greets my knock. Doug opens the door. He’s on the phone. He gestures for me to come in, waves in the direction of the refrigerator and mimes a drink. I’m assuming he’s telling me to help myself to a drink, and so I do.
I drink him in. I haven’t seen him in a week. He looks hot. Right now, he’s looking slightly annoyed at the progress of his phone conversation.
Similar Books
