Dragging her across the floor, I take her to the plush rug in the middle of her living room. Seeing her crawl under my control is intoxicating. Without emotion, I deposit her on all fours as I fall onto my knees behind her.
“You want to be my slut? Well, here you go,” I growl as I rip her panties down her thighs and shove my cock into her wet heat. She lets out a scream as her fingers clutch the rug, holding her in place against my relentless pounding.
My mind is blank. I’m not thinking—just feeling. Nothing but filth and shame.
Her hips are pinched in my grasp as I thrust hard, and it’s so loud, it drowns out the sound of my grunts and her moans. I’m lost to the motion, and I should be coming soon, but I feel no closer to my climax.
Reaching down, I wrap my hand around her throat and drag her upward, so I can fuck her harder, but with each pounding thrust, I feel something breaking inside me. The hard, unfeeling monster currently behind the wheel is growing weaker.
She lets out a scream, and I watch her skin break out in goosebumps, shivering from the top of her spine to the base. When I finally come, it’s unsatisfying and followed up quickly by a crippling sensation of shame and regret.
Then, my quiet brain suddenly wakes up, drowning out the evil emotions coursing through me.
You don’t see what I see.
Those words replay in my head, the look on her face as she gazed up at me, touching my face as she uttered them accompanying the memory. Then I see her tears, gagging as I spit in her mouth, degrading her and treating her like something disgusting after she was so kind to me.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
My hand drops from her throat, and I nearly stop breathing.
“Mercy.”
In a rush, I pull out. “Mercy. I’m calling mercy,” I stammer as I fall to my ass, leaning back against the couch. My fingers dig into my hair as I let my head hang forward.
Without another word, she’s there, pulling my face up and putting hers within inches of my own.
“It’s okay. I’m okay.”
She invades my space, settling my face against her shoulder as she drowns out all the thoughts in my head with her touch.
“Talk to me. What happened?” she whispers.
“What do you mean what happened? Aren’t you disgusted by me?” I gape at her in shock.
“No,” she replies, stroking my cheek, “I actually liked seeing you take control like that.”
I scoff. “Well, I didn’t. I don’t feel good about myself right now…if you couldn’t tell.”
“Why? If I gave you consent to do it, then why do you feel so bad?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I wish I knew.”
She lifts my face and gazes into my eyes. “Beau, you have some warped perceptions about sex. The shame you feel isn’t your fault. Someone else put that there.”
I can’t pinpoint in the moment if it was my mother talking shit about my dad for so long that I believed her lies or if it was society brainwashing me into believing that sex came with a side order of shame, but Maggie’s right, and I’m seeing it now for the first time. My perception is warped.
“You don’t have to feel bad about degrading me if that’s what gets you off,” she says with a shrug. “I got off on it too.”
“You did?”
With a wicked-looking half-smile, she nods. “Could you not tell how wet I was?”
“I don’t want to do that again. I just want you to be in control.”
“Okay, I will. But I think you need to do that more often, until you learn to stop feeling so bad about it.”