Anything For Him (7 page)

As I sat on the cold metal of the bus stop seat, a woman with her young son gave me a filthy look and moved away to stand on the other side of the rain shelter. I thought about what I must look like, lipstick smeared, hair a mess from being tugged. And Liuz had said I stunk of sex. That it was obvious what I’d been doing.

Maybe I looked like a real prostitute.

I didn’t care.

Ignoring the woman, I stared up the street at house windows lit from within, at lampposts emitting amber glows that splashed onto the pavement beneath. I rubbed my arms and shivered a little from the cold. Yes, this was how a prostitute would feel, all hunched up in a bus shelter, bare legs pimpled with goose bumps, nipples hard and hurting from the biting autumn weather.

If this was how Liuz wanted me to feel, then I would feel it as part of the game.

If this was how our relationship was to be, then I’d take it, with my own private terms kept firmly in my head, a secret.

I was too far gone on him to back out now. Too obsessed with him to allow the small matter of staying the whole night to upset the balance.

Mind more settled now I was back on track, I squinted into the distance to wait for the first sign of the bus that would take me home. I’d slipped my return ticket into my skirt pocket earlier and stood now to check it was still there. It wasn’t. It must have fallen out as Liuz fucked me. Landed on his floor. Had he found it? Was he holding it now, thinking of what we’d done? Or had that damn phone call taken his whole attention? There were things he had to do, he’d said. What were they? Just what the hell could have made him angry enough to cut short our night?

I was determined to find out what was important to Liuz.

The bus appeared down the street, coming closer with a slight sway, the top deck empty, only two people occupying the lower. It stopped with a hiss and the sliding open of doors, and I waited for the woman and her child to board first. As I stepped on, she shuffled up the aisle, seating her son then sitting beside him, a mother’s instinct protecting him from my taint, what I was.

I paid the fare and took the stairs, sitting at the front so I could better see when my stop approached. The last thing I needed tonight was to miss it. I wanted to go home now, to check if Liuz had emailed already, to get back to our normal pattern. One I knew well. One that made me feel safe. I didn’t like how I’d felt back there, needy and out of control. Maybe that was his intention, to wear me down until I couldn’t function without him. I was a strong woman; he knew that from our emails. Maybe he liked the idea of turning a usually self-assured girl into a begging wreck.

However much that appealed to me, a journey where I’d lose myself bit by bit, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand it. I’d play the game, if that was the way he wanted it, but I’d still be in control.

Was that what I really believed? The way I felt about him, the way I went off on tangents just at the thought of him?

I knew I’d become fixated the moment I’d decided to go to Brixton and spy on him. Knew it when I painted him on my wall and spread those pictures of him on the floor. It was irrational, not the usual way women behaved – not any women I knew, anyway. If I was honest, I was well aware of how this would look to someone else, to me at one time long ago – before Liuz, before those filthy emails – but at the same time I didn’t care. He swam in my veins, had burrowed deep inside me, and I was damned if I’d let him go without a fight. Do as I was told, exactly as I’d been told. I couldn’t imagine not having him in my life now. No more emails. No more fucking. Now this new phase had started, I couldn’t risk it being taken away. I wanted more of his cock inside me, and if it meant I could only have it every so often, then so be it.

My stop came, so I got off the bus and headed for home, safe in the knowledge that if anyone I knew saw me they wouldn’t think I was me anyway. Not with this hair, these clothes. They’d realise who I was eventually, of course they would, but for tonight I was safe to slip inside and mull over what had happened in the past hour or so.

I went straight for the mural and stood staring at it while memories filled my head and sexual excitement set my clit to throbbing. I dropped my bag to the floor and walked forward, brushing my fingertips over the painted cock I yet had the privilege of seeing for real. The way it had felt as it jammed in and out of me somehow matched the way I had painted it. I leaned forward, pressed my nose to it, and inhaled deeply. Wishing I could smell it. Wishing that when I dashed out my tongue I’d be met with soft skin encasing hardness, not a cold wall that yielded nothing.

I stepped back, semi-appalled at what I’d just done. I glanced about, as though someone was here to witness my act: then rushed over to the window to snap the curtains closed. I felt across my desk for the lamp and switched it on; staring at the mural now lit a muted yellow. This man, God, he’d wormed his way inside me, and now that I’d had him, his hands touching places I’d only dreamed and hoped he would, I wasn’t letting him go for anyone or anything. So what if I was a little fanatical? I wasn’t hurting anyone. He would never say the stop word, I’d make sure of that.

The following day, I called the office early, feigning sickness. I wasn’t lying, when I thought about it. I was sick, just not ill. Sick with wanting Liuz. I said I’d be OK tomorrow, back out in the field in search of good stories, and the editor had sighed. There wasn’t much he could do about my absence, really. I was freelance. I just had to hope I stumbled on a good story soon, otherwise he might drop me, decline future stories I submitted, and I didn’t think my landlord would appreciate having to wait for his rent until I earned more money.

I hadn’t slept too well, annoyed to hell and back Liuz hadn’t sent an email last night, not even a thank you or ‘Sleep tight’
.
I felt a huge dose of the grumps coming on, feelings of rejection swamping me whole, and pressed my lips together so tight I imagined they’d gone white.

‘I’m not going down that road,’ I said to the mural, pulling a dressing gown around myself. ‘You’re not going to turn me into a needy, simpering wreck. I’m going to make you want me so much you can’t think, can’t breathe.’

It was all very well me saying that out loud, but could I really do it? Liuz was a strong man, in body and in mind, and I doubted very much he would be easy to break. But everyone had a chink in their armour, didn’t they? Everyone had an Achilles heel. I just had to find his. Once again it came to my mind – what was important to him?

I thudded into my office, booted up the laptop then went in search of coffee. When I came back, my palm curled around a steaming mug, I checked my mail. My heartbeat kicked up a notch.

There was mail from Liuz, and to my surprise there was an attachment.

I gnawed at the inside of my cheek as I waited for the message to open.

‘Hey,
Aniolku
. I have sent you a present to remind you of our wonderful evening together, though you must tell me exactly how it makes you feel, for as you know I am eager to learn more about how to best realise your fantasies.’

My stomach clenched as I opened the attachment. It was a video, and instantly I recognised the setting. The dull, dishwater colours, the single bare bulb overhead and one table with thin legs standing in the middle. It could only be Liuz’s room.

From my speakers there was a sudden knocking and Liuz, with his back to me, stood and moved to the door.

Of course I knew what he looked like, but still, the image of his long, golden back, shirtless and disappearing into those worn jeans, had my stomach clenching with desire. I sat heavily on my chair and turned up the volume on my computer.

He opens the door and I spot a section of my face beyond his shoulder. My mouth flattened nervously and the big, painted-on eyes on the blindfold look comical and creepy all at the same time.

He grabs my wrists, and my lips part in surprise as I’m tugged into the room and the door shuts. My bag falls to the floor.

He speaks in a low murmur and I reply. His hands fiddle with the tightness of the material bound around my head. My scalp prickles now at the memory and instinctively I smooth my hair over the crown of my head.

Still I can’t see his face, but I remember our conversation about the stop word. I hear myself repeat ‘Kilimanjaro’ as my chin is caught in his big hand. His head dips and I know he is kissing me, hot and hard. I remember his taste, smoky and sinful, infused with potent maleness. I lick my lips, seeking for a lingering trace of his flavour. Of course, I don’t find it.

His hands roam my body, and I mesh my fingers in his hair. Sitting in my office now, I can’t help but tweak my clit through my pyjama pants and my breaths catch in my throat. This is even better than I could have ever imagined. He’d caught our whole, seedy encounter on film. This was going to be masturbation fodder for years to come.

‘This way, slut, come this way.’

Oh, how I loved his voice and the way he spoke to me.

I stumble forward and he walks, back to the camera, right up to the table. When he reaches it I see how the angle of the lens is set low, so that when I bend over I’m the main part of the frame. The top of the screen stops just above his nipples. His facial features have still not graced the image he’s sent me.

‘That’s it, now spread your legs.’

I do as he asks without hesitation. A small part of me knows I should feel ashamed, dirty, but I don’t. Instead, I watch with fascination as he binds me to the table, his arms and busy fingers securing me for his ministrations. I know what’s coming next, but still, excitement buzzes through me.

Although the light is dim I can make out the whiteness of my fingernails as I clutch the rim of the table, my head turning as I try and follow Liuz’s movements through the sounds he makes – his clothes, his footsteps, his breaths.

He’s back between my legs. I’m wriggling and groaning.

‘Keep still.’ He yanks at my thong. ‘Keep still. It’s been a while since I’ve had a pussy to play with. I’m going to take my time.’

‘Please, Liuz, I –’

A sudden sharp slap snaps from the screen. I jolt in my chair, remembering the sting across my left buttock. It comes back now, a sizzling sensation my nerves are loath to forget.

‘Ow!’

‘Ah,
Aniolku
, you know I will give you what you need, so be a good girl for me. Be a good little slut.’

His face is just out of shot when finally he slides his fingers into my pussy.

‘Ah, yes, so slutty and wet, you are such a rude girl, begging for my fingers. Well here, take more.’

I watched, fascinated as his hand and fingers appear and disappear between my legs. Squelching noises add to the erotic image and I can’t help but wish I was back there, feeling him doing it to me all over again.

‘No, don’t touch yourself. Keep fucking still.’ He withdraws his fingers, steps away for the briefest of moments. Then he is back, holding something long and dark green.

It’s the damn cucumber he fed me.

‘Condom,’ I gasp.

He laughs. ‘I don’t think it’s necessary just yet.’

Where his fingers had entered me moments ago, now the cucumber presses forward. I arch my back, raise my chin to the ceiling, my jaw slack. My unseeing eyes stare at the camera. Soon the cucumber is more than halfway into my pussy and I’m panting and my body is still and tense.

He moves in front of me, his torso slipping between me and the lens for a split second like a black shadow.

Then I see his beautiful cock for the first time. He’s holding it in his hand, his palm lazily smoothing up and down the erect shaft. The head is thick and domed. A deep, finger-sized trench circles the glans and his slit is large, the colour of blood.

‘Now open your mouth.’

I do as he asks but jerk my neck when his cock brushes my lips.

‘No, keep still.’ He grabs for my head, blocking out some of the image with his long, hair-coated forearms. ‘Open wide and take a deep breath. You said you wanted me to imagine your mouth was my hand and now that’s going to be your reality.’

He shunts in. My body jars then braces. The cucumber bobs as I clench around it.

‘Oh, fuck. You’re gonna get it so good, so fucking good.’

He sets up a wild rhythm, hissing obscenities at me as he thrusts. Before long his climax claims him. I see myself struggling: for air and not to choke on his cum.

‘You suck dick well.’ He releases my head, withdraws and moves away.

I know what’s coming next.

The damn cucumber.

A tirade of emotions tumble through me as I watch him fuck me with the long fruit, then pull it out and, with a small pen knife, he chops off chunks which he then feeds to me.

I gobble it up, greedy for the moistness on my tongue. I see him lift slivers up and out of the frame, toward his own mouth.

I’m eating the very thing that had just penetrated my pussy. It’s coated in my creamy desire. I had no clue about it at the time. I just wanted everything he gave me.

He is back behind me, his dick hard and thankfully sheathed in a condom.

With one devastating thrust he gains entry. I cry out on the screen. In my office I gasp. It was a brutally fast and hard penetration, but it gave me such exquisite pleasure.

He tells me to be quiet. I moan a response. He grabs my hair and pulls my neck and spine into an unnatural position. Pistons in and out of me like a man possessed.

Then, for the first time ever, I watch myself climax.

My entire body tightens. My feet and toes lift off the floor as much as their binds will allow and my hips snap back for more depth. My hands grip the table and my mouth opens wide. With each pound my breasts shunt forward, the soft flesh jiggling and my nipples straining beneath the material of my top.

I call out. It’s a wild, guttural noise that could be interpreted as extreme discomfort or ecstatic pleasure.

He carries on fucking me. ‘This was how you wanted it, remember.’

‘Yes, yes.’

His deep groan mixes with the sound of his thighs slapping onto the backs of mine.