“Drinking so early? I shouldn’t,” he’d said when I brought him a cold beer.
“But you will.”
He’d taken it from me, saying, “You’re a bad influence. I should tie you up and punish you.”
It was innocent teasing, nothing meant by it at all, but I’d been on my way back to the kitchen when he’d said it, and I’d turned back to him, surprised. Not surprised by the teasing – that was common between us – but by how the thought made me feel. Being punished. I hadn’t thought about it before, really. I’d been spanked before. By Rob. But it had always been playful, never as a consequence. And the idea of it, the idea of being humiliated and disciplined, was strangely exciting.
Liam must have read my thoughts from the expression on my face because he’d said, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Said it like he’d finally understood something about me that he hadn’t before. Said it like this understanding interested him. Said it like I interested him in a way that I hadn’t before.
Then, before I had a chance to answer – as if I could answer such a strange question without having longer to think about it – he’d said, “That reminds me. I got you a present.”
“Really? What is it?” I wasn’t as surprised about a present as I’d been about the idea of punishment. He’d bring us things on occasion. Nothing expensive. Costume jewelry, mostly. DVDs of the latest chick flick.
“It’s nothing much. Just something I saw and thought of you. There’s a bag in my briefcase by the door. Get it out, will you? But bring it here before looking inside. I want to explain it.”
“Okay.” I went to the foyer and found a blue plastic shopping bag in his briefcase.
When I’d just entered the living room, he’d stopped me. “Wait.” He had that same look on his face that he’d had when I left him – the interested look. Intense and warm. It had made me feel intense and warm and interested, and my heart pounded with anticipation as I’d waited for him to say something else. It felt like a lifetime spanned in those seconds.
“Put the handle of the bag between your teeth,” he’d said, finally. “And crawl to me.”
It was such a strange request, so out of the blue and uncharacteristic. It should have sparked questions or an argument, even. I should have said, “Hell, no, I’m not crawling to you. You weirdo.” I was barely eighteen. I’d had a handful of sexual partners who were mostly teenagers and beyond the threesomes with Amber, I’d never gotten especially kinky.
But I’d also never been very interested in sex. It had gotten me what I’d needed and was certainly fun. I just wasn’t easily turned on and the payoff wasn’t always worth the effort for me.
Until that moment, when Amber’s boyfriend lay sprawled across the living room couch, his feet bare, his jacket off, his tie loose, and told me to crawl. Instantly, my mouth grew moist and my belly knotted with the firm ball of arousal. Because being told to do something so demeaning, so perverted, so shameful… it thrilled me.
I put the bag in my mouth and started to bend down, but he stopped me again. “First, take off your clothes.”
I did. Without hesitation.
He watched me as I stripped. “The other day,” he’d said, “you mentioned hating how sweet and nice modern-day romantic heroes are. I saw that” – he’d nodded at the bag from the briefcase – “and thought you might appreciate it instead.”
His statement piqued my curiosity, but I soon forgot about it. Because when I’d gotten down on all fours, the ceramic floor had hurt my knees and the bag had pulled at my teeth. It swung as I’d crawled, and the way it hit my breasts had been uncomfortable and humiliating.
But the more uncomfortable I had felt – the more humiliated, the more sick and twisted – the more I had been aroused.
Liam’s expression had only added to my desire. He’d watched me like I was an animal, like I wasn’t a person but a pet, meant to be dominated and lorded over.
“You aren’t like Amber,” he’d said, and I hadn’t had to ask what he’d meant. Amber wouldn’t have gotten on her knees on a hard floor let alone gotten wet between the legs from such a degrading act. Amber wouldn’t be turned on by the prospect of pain or submission.
No, I definitely wasn’t like Amber.
I never did make it to the couch. Liam pounced before I’d even crawled midway across the room. He pounced and he bound my hands with his tie. He spanked me. Hard. Punitively. He fucked me roughly, mercilessly. When he’d finished, he’d left bruises on my wrists and arms and breasts.
He’d marked me in other ways, ways that couldn’t be seen. With the truth he’d taught me about myself. With the names he’d called me as he’d pounded into me, the names that had sent me over the edge. “Whore.” “Slut.” “Bitch.” He’d marked me as dirty. He’d marked me as submissive. He’d marked me as not Amber.
And that terrified me.
I’d cleaned up by the time Amber got home. When she’d knocked on my bedroom door to ask if I wanted to go out with her and Liam to grab dinner, I’d told her I had a headache. Later, when she’d left Liam sleeping in their bed, she’d come to check on me.
“I think it’s time to move on,” I told her. “Liam is fine, but he can’t buy us all the things Rob could. Is this what we want for our future? We could have so much more.”