We Were One Once Book 1 (9 page)

The thought of Grace has me
pissed again. I push this girl down onto her knees harder than I
need to, but she doesn’t try to move away. I unzip my pants and
pull out my cock. Her mouth is on me before I have my hand around
her head.

Her tongue is nice, long
and quick, but she only takes a third of me in her mouth. I close
my eyes for a while, letting her face pump my cock. I’m not ready
to come yet though.

I open my eyes and grin at
Cary; he moves to stand next to me. I push her head off me and
towards his cock. She looks up at him, and he smiles. She takes his
cock in her mouth but looks at me.

I move over to the sofa,
watching. Her drunk friend is passed out on the other end still,
not even moving when I sit down. Cary tilts his head back, both
hands on her head. I watch her suck him, her head bobbing quickly
against him. She’s not great, but she is enthusiastic at
least.

Cary pulls her hair, and
she lets go of his cock, looking scared again up at him. He keeps
his hand in her hair and has her walk on her knees over to me. She
frowns and pouts, but I can see that the humiliation turns her on
more. He puts her face down towards my lap, and she pulls my cock
into her mouth, her ass up in the air. She pauses, though, to turn
her head back to him as he kneels and positions himself behind her.
“I don’t do anal. Okay?”

Cary slaps her ass and
slams his dick into her wet cunt as his answer. She pushes against
me with the force and grunts her pleasure. I grab her hair and yank
her face back to me. She smiles as Cary slams into her again,
moaning with her eyes closing as her mouth wraps around
me.

I grin at Cary. I’ll have
to concentrate to come before him. Most girls don’t like to
continue giving head after they’ve come. Timing is everything as
they say.

I close my eyes. The image
of Grace sprawled out on my sofa comes to mind. I imagine my mouth
on her while she sat like I am now—the sweet taste of Grace, her
moans, her words, her spicy scent.

I push the blonde’s mouth
deeper on me, and she sucks harder. I can feel Cary pushing her.
Her tongue works faster, and her hand strokes harder while he pumps
into her. Finally, I hold her in place while I shoot come down her
throat, imagining Grace the whole time. Cary has her screaming as I
pull away from her, his own low groans quickly following.
Timing.

Yawning and scratching the
nail marks on my shoulder, I move into the kitchen for coffee,
passing Cary at the table. I avoid looking at him, just grab a bowl
and sit down to pour some cereal and milk. We eat in silence for a
while.

We left the blonde and her
friend in the hotel late last night. I glance at the clock on the
microwave. They should just be getting the room service I ordered
for them, unless they got up early and took the $20 I left for a
cab already.

The three of us had a good
time. Maria/Mary never did wake up to join in, but the blonde
managed to keep us both happy a few more times. And her dislike of
anal was a blatant lie. Or Cary is a better motivator than I
thought. He’s an ass man.

I can feel him watching me
now. I know what he's thinking. I fucked up last night. I finally
drop my spoon into the bowl, splashing milk and cereal out.
“What?!”

He grins, one of his stupid
looks. “Nothin, cuz.” He’s laughing though. Fucker.

“Cary.” I growl his name
through gritted teeth and shoot him another look of warning. He
just gets up and walks to the sink with his bowl.

But he doesn’t leave. I can
feel him staring at me; I don’t turn around. “So…who’s Grace?”
There’s laughter in his voice still.

And the insane part? I hate
hearing her name from his lips. I have an instant reaction of pure
rage. I can feel my whole body tense, ready to spring up and thrash
him. I have to close my eyes for a second to get it under control,
to calm my voice. “Who?”

Cary moves around the table
to stand on the other side, watching me. “You called the girl last
night Grace.”

I look up at him, still
trying to get my body to relax. I’m not wearing a shirt, so the
flexing of my arms and chest is clearly visible to him. I sit back,
forcing my one hand to flatten on the table, the other to pick up
the spoon again. I force a smile on my face too. “I must’ve been
more shitfaced than I thought.” But I can see that he’s not going
to let it go. “She was one of my products.” That’s not entirely a
lie. She would’ve been.

He only nods but keeps
watching me until I start eating again. Finally, he turns to leave.
“I’m heading back. Call me when you have a new girl; I’ll stop by
to help out.”

When I hear the bedroom
door close, I let the spoon drop again. Fuck. I can’t believe I let
myself get so angry with him, all for mentioning her. This
obsession is taking over.

I need to do something and
soon. I can’t let myself be preoccupied with Grace any longer. I
have two orders waiting, and I haven’t even tried to look for new
girls.

For one moment, I think
about grabbing Grace, taking her, training her and selling her off.
It’s what I’d planned before, what I told Cary I did already, but I
can feel my body tensing at this thought.

I can lie to myself, say
it’s because she’s off limits—my own stupid rules. But I know
that’s not it. Grace is only partially in my circle. She’s a
fucking model for fucksake, with absolutely no connections that I
can find. She’d still be perfect to take, perfect to train, a
perfect product for me.

Getting up and dumping my
uneaten breakfast down the sink, I can feel myself tensing even
more. So why the fuck can’t I do it?!

It would end my obsession.
Once I have her chained and broken, I know I’d be done with her.
Except the thought sounds hollow to me now.

The longest I’ve ever been
with one woman is seven months. She was the first girl, Raquel. I
dumped her after she agreed to marry the man of her father’s
choosing. Well, to be fair, I was only sixteen. It wasn’t like I
was going to ask her to wait for me or anything. And I’d already
had my fun with her by then, but that was the longest that I’d
spent with one girl.

The girls I train usually
only take a few weeks, a few months at the longest. Breaking a
woman is easy once you apply simple mindfuck techniques. Lack of
rest, sleep, food—these are the basics, plus equal applications of
pain and comfort. The first few days are the hardest, getting to
know fears and tolerance levels. Get them to eat from your hand and
they’re broken like any other animal. And I prefer to hand off
ownership as soon after they’re broken as possible; there’s less
confusion that way.

But Grace has been with me
now for over sixteen months. I haven’t had her physically for that
time. She hasn’t been chained in my cave the way I wanted. She
hasn’t been broken and trained for all that time. But I’ve thought
about her, thought about what I would do to her. She
has
been
mine
,
even
if
she
didn’t know
it.

So now the thought of her
being with anyone else, the thought of making her available to
anyone else... I don’t even want to finish the thoughts.

I want her broken.
But
I
want
her.

So now I have a plan again.
This calms me.

Smiling as I head into my
room, I think one more happy thought about her. Maybe I’ll rename
her. She’ll be broken. She’ll be anything I want her to be. Maybe
I’ll call her Scarlet.

San Francisco: Simon
Lamb

I wait. I know she’ll be
here. I just wait for her. I’ve decided today is the day she comes
to me. Willingly. Freely.

Or forcefully.

I don’t care.

Today is the day, Grace.
And
this
time,
you’re not getting away from me.

I look up each time the
door opens. I reach for my cup of coffee each time it’s not
her.

Finally, I watch her enter
the diner. Her hair’s pulled back but still a mess of tangles and
curls. Her face looks smaller left out in the open, her dark eyes
even bigger. She’s in her usual red. This time it’s a tight pair of
jeans, faded red. I watch her walk by the sign saying she should
wait to be seated, as she always does. I smile, watching her sit at
a table—same spot I’ve watched her take for four days.

I wait for the waitress to
take her order before walking over. I wait until she’s picked up
the crayons and started coloring the paper placemat in front of her
before walking over. It’s her routine. She doodles until the
waitress brings her food.

“Hello, Red.”

She doesn’t look up, not
right away. Her shoulders come up, and her chin goes down. Her
whole hand squeezes around the orange crayon, she breathes in three
times rapidly through her nose, and she quickly drops the crayon,
letting it roll off the table like I’ve caught her doing something
wicked.

Then she relaxes, softens.
Her eyes are the last part of her to raise to me. “Hello, Trust.
How nice to see you again.”

I don’t sit down. I just
lean over the booth. “Wanna join me for breakfast?”

She smiles. “Sure.” She
grabs her purse off the seat and slides towards me. “But if by
breakfast you mean a quickie after pancakes, then I’m going to have
to pass for now. Busy day.”

I laugh. She’s full of
surprises. “Just breakfast, sweetheart.” As she walks by me, I
glance back down at her table. The placemat is full of jagged
orange lines, like sunrays slashed across the center. It’s not so
much a doodle as random, angry lines.

Sitting back at my booth, I
motion to the waitress that I’m ready to order. I can see that
Grace keeps fidgeting with her hands on the edge of the table,
bouncing her eyes from the small box of crayons and her placemat.
Yet I’ve been told
I’m
obsessive?

“You want coffee, or have
you already had too much?” I nod towards her hands.

She doesn’t answer me, just
looks up at the waitress. With a soft, almost girlish voice, higher
pitched than her usual, “Milk…please?”

I laugh again as the
waitress walks away. “Does a body good?”

“What?” Her expression is
clouded.

“Milk?” I’m sarcastic,
watching her fidgeting increase.

“Oh. Um. Yeah.” She looks
down at the napkin she’s twisting and almost throws it to the edge
of the table. She shakes her head, even lowers it a little for a
moment. I just sit, frowning. Throwing her off routine really seems
to do a number on her. Good to know.

I realize how little I
actually know about her. I watched her for four weeks last year,
but I learned almost nothing except that she likes her little
rituals. She sticks to them religiously. We’re alike in that way. I
appreciate this about her.

She just doesn’t know that
I’m about to turn her little life upside down.

“Ya know, Trust…I’m sorry,
but I just remembered...” And just like that, she jumps up and
tries to get away. She nearly bumps into the waitress and topples
the plates of food. She sits back down hard to avoid it.