Before you begin reading.. I want to thank all of you for being so patient with me and my slow writing. I love your reviews and messages and all the support you guys are showing! I appreciate it! And it really means a lot.
Now.. I have something big to tell you guys.. Make sure to slow down on the reading and try not to miss tiny details I have in this chapter.. I had originally started writing this story because a lot of readers kept asking me what happened to Hinata in If I Were Her and so I wrote this. However, as I started writing my mid started running a thousand miles per hour and I had come up with a whole new plan for this story. This is going to be the second of the last chapter for Hinata's Lost Journals, because there will be no more Hinata's POV. It's going to be Naruto's point of view from now on. This chapter is going to be based on a major time skip.. in the next two chapters, this story will be on the same time that If I Were Her is.
If you guys have any questions, please ask me, let me know what you think. If you guys have any brilliant ideas, LET ME KNOW!
Enough of me now, I do not own Naruto or any of the characters.
This story is rated M
Happy Reading!
Journals number...?
(It's been so long since I wrote, I don't remember), Entry number 1
Friday, May 4, 2012
7:00 a.m.
I woke up with tears streaming down my face, lost in a dream, unsure where I was... a dream, or was it a nightmare? How can anything "he" is in be a nightmare? But how can it not be, if I'm this tormented in its aftermath?
I was standing naked in my Master's private chambers, in a room filled with red and white roses. They were everywhere, the scent of them sweet and seductive, the smell of romance and passion. My skin was ivory perfection, more beautiful than I ever remembered it being. My hair was dark silk that flowed down my shoulders. I didn't feel like Hinata Hyuga. I felt like someone else. Someone compelling and enchantingly sexy.
He entered the room, standing before me fully clothed. It was part of his power, him being dressed. Me being naked. I liked his power. It excited me. It made me burn. To be possessed by such a man, this man, was everything I wanted, everything I craved.
He held out his hand. "It's time."
Nervous excitement shot through me. Yes. I will be his. And then, suddenly I was at the door of a large room with an octagonal stage. There were theater-like seats filled with rows of people. I felt a sudden surge of panic, a need to turn and run away.
"I've never claimed anyone as mine publicly," he said softly, stroking my hair. "Only you."
A knot formed in my chest and my belly. This was his way of showing me commitment; maybe the only way he knew how to show it. He was claiming me and asking for my acceptance into this community, and both things meant something to him. I had to do this for him, no matter how uncomfortable it made me feel.
He stepped forward, heading down the aisle leading to the stage, and I knew to follow, to keep my head down. I was his submissive, his slave, and he was a respected Master among what he considered his peers. I understood the dynamics, even if they weren't easy for me to navigate-not in public. Not during any of the times when he involved other people in our time together.
I was glad to have my head down, relieved not to have to see the eyes I felt like heavy, wet blankets on my skin. I didn't want these people to see me. I didn't want them to want me, yet I felt the lust and hunger of those watching me, clawing at me, suffocating me.
Once I was on the stage he turned me to face him, his hands sliding to my face, his eyes finding mine. "Do you know how proud I am of you? How perfect you are?"
The rest of the room faded away. There was only him, and the moment he turned me to the crowd and announced me as his. He then pressed on my shoulders and I knew to kneel down, lowering my head, my hands outstretched, palms flat on the floor as he had taught me. A long line of people began to line up to come to the stage and, one by one, they touched my hair, my back, my arms. I could feel myself shake, and not from arousal. He was sharing me again, and it shook me to the core, no matter what the reason, no matter what the rules specific to this club said, that this was part of my being accepted publicly. I tried to fight the shivers running through me, but I couldn't. I slid into a dark place in my mind but it wasn't shelter enough. Every touch of a stranger's hand sent me another shiver down my spine, and my eyes burned until tears streaked my cheeks.
And that's when I woke up, crying as I had been in my sleep, the scent of roses teasing my nostrils (So very real, though it was imaginary), my gaze sweeping his bedroom, where I'd been sleeping with him for months now. It took a moment to realize where I was, and why I was alone. he was out of town and would be until Tuesday. "He" being my lover, my Master, and, I fear, soon my heartache. The bed was empty without him, the house emptier, but clearly my dreams and my thoughts were not. They were rich with a growing sense of unease.
I'm in the living room now, his living room, a cup of piping-hot coffee beside me, and the television is on, but my efforts to stop my mind from racing aren't working. Now, for the first time in moths, I'm forcing myself to do more than jot down random thought here and there as has become my habit, or rather lack of one. I'm going to start writing down what I feel again, and face what is bothering me.
And I know there is plenty bothering me. The nightmares of my mother trying to kill me have been back for a month, but now I've apparently decided to keep thing interesting and have nightmares about the man I love. Who doesn't love me.
There it is. No more analysis needed. One journal entry, and I've solved the mystery that isn't a mystery.
He. Doesn't. Love. Me.
It's that simple, and yet it's complicated in so many ways, starting with the fact that I know he cares about me in the way he believes is the ultimate showing of affection and commitment. He simply doesn't believe in love. He believes in belonging, in ownership... in contracts. I've often thought that he trusts what is in ink more than he trusts what is in his heart or mine.
I can understand this. I can. Let's face it, my mother loved me, but she lied to me. She lied in ways that I believe affected the very core of who I am.
Looking back now, I think the security of a contract was part of what drew me to our arrangement. I know he has something in his past that makes him need that security, too, though he tells me this lifestyle is nothing more than who he is and what he enjoys. There is more in the depths of his eyes, though, more to who he is. I'd thought I'd discover what it is, who he is. I thought we could heal together. I thought we'd find love together-but he says love is a façade that twists people in knots, and yes, he's gone so far as to say that it destroys.
He's wrong. Love isn't a façade, but yes, it does twist you in knots. And he is completely wrong about love destroying what it touches. It's people who do that. And I fear that is where this is headed for me.
The scenes we enact together take me deeper and deeper into the places I know represent his internal hell, and yet I can't pull him back. Instead, he's pulling me inside that dark hole that is his escape. Only there is no escape for me anymore: not when every scene pushes me beyond the limits that mean pleasure for me. He doesn't see that, either. And as my Master, he should.
Oddly, as I'm beginning to find me again, I think he's completely lost me. Or maybe I've lost him. My heart just contracted at this conclusion. I love him. Why did I let myself love him?
10:15 a.m. ...
He called me as soon as I sat down at my desk.
"My bed needs you in it."
I swallowed hard at his raspy, desire-laden words. "It had me in it. You were the one who wasn't in it."
"Any bed I'm in needs you in it. You should e here."
"We both know why I never travel with you."
"Yes. And we are going to talk about that at the contract renewal."
I wasn't going to agree to go public with our relationship. I already battled people thinking I was too young to have depth to my knowledge. Having them believe I got where I'm at because I'm involved with someone connected to the gallery would be even worse. "My position won't change."
"Hina-chan, we both know I can be very persuasive."
Yes. We both knew that all too well.
He lowered his voice, roughened it up in that way he did that made me insanely aroused. "I can't wait to have you beneath me again. I'll call you later."
"Yes. Later."
We hung up and I sat there, twisted in those love knots, before grabbing my journal to write this entry, to explain what I am feeling so I can look back at it later and make informed decisions, not emotional ones. Tormented. Confused. Uncertain. Out of control. Those are the feeling that have been dictating my actions, rather than logic. Which is exactly why I need to be writing this.
Lee just poked his head into my office and held up a piece of paper that said "61 days," his score card of the number days of my fellow sales rep Temari has been nice to everyone. It's a record, and I suspect it has to do with the fact that she discovered a couple of pieces of very special art that Naruto bought for a steal for the July Riptide auction. Of course, she hates that I'm coordinating the auction, but I think she finally feels like she is on solid ground at the gallery again. Thank you, is all I can say. Give her a big commission and keep her happy. Her meanness to me this past year has been the shark in the gorgeous water that is the gallery for me.
I laughed at Lee's antics, as he intended me to. I love Lee, I really do, but I don't let myself get to close too close to him. He wants to know too much about my private life, and that isn't going to happen.
I'd stopped writing at work because I was worried about someone finding one of my journals. It's why I don't use names. It would be bad enough to have my innermost personal thoughts exposed, but worse to expose someone else's secrets through my writing. And this time I bought a journal with a lock attached to the cover. No one need to read my thoughts, not even "him."
I can just imagine if Lee found one of my journals. Okay, leave it to Lee to make me smile again, because thinking about the look on his face (he's quite prudish) if he reads just one of those erotic scenes I've described since heading on my submissive journey makes me want to laugh. I might wound our quirky, sweet little accountant for life.
Yes. My life outside this place is definitely not for anyone else's consumption. I started a friendship with Georgia O'Nay that I pulled away from for the same reason. She was too close to people I know, too close to the things that would allow her to know my secret lover. But it turned out she knows anyway, for no reason I could control. The truth is, there are several people who know, and fighting public knowledge is probably a lost cause. This bothers me. It really does.
Eventually it's going to come out that I am with him. Eventually every bit of success I've had will be questioned. If I believed in where he and I were headed, it would be okay. I'd deal with it. But I guess that's what I really comes down to. I don't believe in where we are headed.
Maybe... maybe I need to leave the gallery, to find another job in art-but wouldn't I still be in the same circle of people? And I'll never make the money that I make with Riptide, and I'm alone, with no one else to count on.
Yes, I have him.
But for how long?
8:00 p.m.
An hour before closing...
I've decided I need to go home to my apartment tonight. I'm not looking forward to telling my Master that. We're t contract negotiation time again and I know he'll freak out and think I'm pulling away from him, Maybe I just won't tell him. He won't know; he's off in another state right now.
I'll decide later. I just need some space of my own. Of course, all of the things I use are at his place. I'll have to go by there, and I wish I didn't. When I smell his scent, see his things... it's hard to turn away, but I feel like that is where this is headed. I need more than another contract, and less of what he'll want included in the new one, anyway.
Unfortunately... I just don't think he can give those things to me.
11:00 p.m.
My apartment. It's so very strange to be here, but nice. A whole lot more humble than my Master's elaborate place, but I like that. This is me, with my overstuffed, overused couches and my down comforter on my full-size bed, which I'm sitting on now with all my old journals surrounding me. It's a cozy little place, made cozier by it being mine, something I claim ownership of. He tried to pay my rent as part of our last contract, but I refused. I needed to know I had my sacred place I could go to if I ever needed to, and tonight I did.
Though I've made some money from the auctions and I can afford to get a bigger, fancier place, I'm not going to. The Riptide auctions that I'm involved with are only a couple of times a year, and I want a nest egg before I start spending outside my norm. I've done way too much throwing caution to the wind this past year. I might splurge on a few pieces of art and decorate a little, though. Make it even cozier.
Yes. I think I will. This idea pleases me, yet it makes my stomach burn. I'm thinking about leaving his place. I'm thinking about needing mine.
For now, though, I just packed enough of my things for the weekend and went grocery shopping. He called while I was at the store and he knew something was wrong. He told me he did. I told him I was exhausted. And I am. Emotionally. I'm on an emotional rollercoaster ride and he's not. That bothers me. It's telling. But what is it telling me?
I told him I'd call him when I got him, before going to bed. I have to call him. He is my Master. At least for two more weeks.
The call...
"You aren't at the house," he said the instant he answered, not bothering with "hello."
My heart jackhammered and I didn't ask how he knew. Probably the security system. I should have thought of that. "No." I hesitated. "I'm at my apartment."
The line crackled with electricity. "Why?"
"You aren't there. I have no reason to be."
"I want you there. That's reason enough, Hinata."
It used to be enough. And it could be again, so very easily, if he'd just... what? I don't even know. "It's almost contract renewal time. I wanted some space to think through what that means to me."
"What does that mean, Hinata?"
My chest hurt. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."
"Figure it out at home."
"This is home for me."
"No. Home is with me."
He was wrong. It was his house. His couch. His everything. "And you aren't there this weekend, so home is here."
"You belong to me," he reminded me softly. "You belong in my bed. I need you there."
I could hear the rough quality to his voice and I knew he was upset. I knew he didn't want to lose me. But I also heard the word choices he always makes oh-so-cautiously. I belong to him. Not with him... I belong in his bed, not by side-or in his life.. and this hurts.
I drew in a deep breath and let it out. "And I need this weekend here. Please, Master, grant me this. Just while you are away." I knew the use of "Master" away from our play would help my cause, and it did.
There was silence, and time ticked slowly by, but when he spoke he granted my wish. "When I return, I'm going to make sure you never want to leave again."
"I don't want to leave," I whispered.
He was silent again, even longer than before. "I'll call you in the morning."
"Okay."
We both sat there, and I knew he didn't want to hang up any more than I did. We do have a bond. He does want me. I know this.
"Goodnight, Hinata," he finally said, his voice low, sandpaper rough.
My throat thickened with emotion. "Good night," I replied, and added because I had a burning desire to please him, "Master."
Saturday, May 5, 2012
1:00 a.m.
My bed surrounded by my old journals
It all comes back to the roses...
The roses in the dream (or nightmare) have been bothering me all day. The day my Master introduced me to the club, there has been no roses. My mind had to be telling me something, and I think that is part of why I wanted to be here tonight. I needed to clear my head of everything that is my Master, and get inside my thoughts.
So I started reading my own writing. The old entries are eye-opening, especially since I've lost track of my feelings these past few months, sporadically at best scribbling notes in random places when, and if, I have the privacy to do so. I told myself it was because I didn't want my Master reading about my feelings, but I think I just went through a period of denial. I didn't want to see everything in my life clearly as I had wanted to in the past.
One of those random entries from back in January made me pause for all kinds of reasons. It's the entry that made me begin with "It all comes back to the roses." I'd written it the night before our last contract renewal (which we've continued every four months). I'd still been in my apartment as often as I was at his house, but he'd wanted that to change.
I'd been afraid of losing complete control of me. To escape into a "scene" with him, or even a weekend of being his submissive, was one thing. To live it day and night felt like quite another.
And so he'd done what he always does: He found a way to seduce me into doing what he wanted. He sent me roses; twelve dozen in different colors. They were gorgeous buds that hadn't blossomed yet. The card is what had really gotten to me. It read: They are delicate and ready to bloom, like you are, little one."
It had started with a scene.
I remember two nights before the roses so very clearly. Those two nights that had led to his sending them to me.
Night one had been at the club..
I was in the center of the playroom (that's what he called the round room in his private quarters) on my knees, my hands bound behind my back, my spine erect as he'd instructed, my breast thrust high in the air. He stood above me, naked and powerfully male. I was aroused: passionately, intensely aroused. I could feel him in every inch of my body. It was amazing how easily he drew me into a whirlwind of lust and need where nothing else existed. It is the overwhelming feeling that is addictive, the escape from the rest of the world. The submergence of reality in a cloud of hot sensuality.
He walked to stand in front of me, staring down at me, his long lashes low over his eyes, a flogger in his hand. "It's time to play a new game."
A moment of nerves rippled through me. I never know where he'll take me, only that he's slowly been pushing me to darker and more intense places, places I go to please him, even when they frighten me.
He used the tassels of the flogger to tease my nipples in a gentle flicker over and over and then the other. They tightened into hard little knots and I was aroused. He bent down in front of me and tugged them with his fingers, watching my face as he did. I moaned and my lashes fluttered.
His lips brushed over mine. "You are so beautiful when you're aroused. I want to show you off to the world." His tongue snaked out to lick against mine again. "I'm going to open the curtain and show you off."
I stiffened. "No, Master. Please." He kissed me again.
"You can do this."
And I had.. I'd done it though I hadn't wanted to, yet somehow it had aroused me. It was one of the first times I'd been truly scared of what was happening to me. There have been many more in the past few months, since our fames have become different... darker. So much darker. But that was the first time.
Or maybe the first time was with Master Two. I was freaked out then, too; confused by how aroused I'd been by his sharing me when I'd also felt so unimportant because he'd wanted to share me. I'm always confused by Master's need to share me. And more and more, he seems to need to. Is that his way of avoiding intimacy? Avoiding allowing us to go to those places I want to go?
After the scene, he'd known I was upset. He'd taken me to his bed and kissed me from head to toe, in that way that he does that always pulls me deep under his spell.
Night two had been a dinner date at Ichiraku, a restaurant we'd both come to love and with a private room and entrance; there is no fear of our relationship going public. Sharing things we enjoy, like food and conversation about the art we both love, always makes me feel more like we are a real couple. And yes, Master/sub is a real couple for me, a deeply committed and intimate relationship. For us, I felt like it was his wall to keep us from being more. Still, I broke through that at times, on nights like these, when we enjoyed meals. Not that all of our tastes are quite the same in food, but I've done my fair share of luring him to Oreo and French fry land, as much as he's lured me to finer dining.
The waiter took away our plates. "Your normal desserts?"
"Two crème brûlées," Master confirmed. "A caramel macchiato for the lady and plain coffee for me."
The waiter bowed his head and departed, pulling the private door closed behind him. I sighed with satisfaction. These moments when we simply relaxed, when we weren't on the edge of something intense, were too few and too far between.
"You... seem content," he said, studying me.
"I enjoy this place."
His eyes had warmed. "I'm glad you do, Hina-chan." He reached inside his jacket and pulled out several folded sheets of paper. "It's time to renew our contract. I thought we'd go over the details."
Renewing our contract is a topic of mixed emotions for me. I'd hoped we'd be more than this by now, and the confirmation that we are not tightened my stomach. "You want changes?"
"I want you to agree we stop hiding in a closet."
"No, no. I can't, I can't do that. That would affect my career."
He studied me a long moment. "What if I said I want you to move in with me?"
Hope filled me. My heart was pounding hard, I was sure he could hear it. "Move in with you?"
Maybe.. Maybe just maybe there is more to it than this damn contract. Maybe he needs me the way I want him to need me. Maybe we can finally go to the places I've been wanting to go, forever.
His voice lowered. "You're the only sub I've ever asked to do this."
Well fuck me. My heart dropped. The only sub-I'm still in that box. So living with him was just another way of controlling me. In fact, it was his way of controlling me around the clock, instead of only during the weekends that our last contract had dictated I be his.
"I'll pay your rent for the contract term," he added. "Then you have the security of knowing that if we don't renew again, you have a place to go."
"No," I said immediately and stood up. It was clear I was never going to be to him what he was to me, and I just wanted to go home.
He was on his feet in an instant, pulling me close. "Why?" The waiter came in and my Master gave him a sharp look that sent him into retreat. Once the door shut, he stared down at me. "Why, Hinata?"
Why didn't matter. It changed nothing.
"Please take me home, and consider anything you start tonight, or for the next two weeks, to come with the words 'red' on repeat." I'd never used my safe word before but I was using it then. I didn't want to be under his control. Not then, and maybe not ever again.
"Hinata." He leaned in to kiss me.
"Red," I hissed. He hesitated and I added, "You said you would stop whatever you were doing if I used it."
His jaw flexed and flexed again, but he pulled back. "I'll take you home."
"Thank you," I whispered.
The trip to my apartment was short but felt eternal, the silence unbearably thick. He parked in the lot behind my building and killed the engine. We sat there in the darkness. "Why?" he asked again.
Was that all he could do? Ask me why? I gave him so much of me, and he couldn't even tell me how he felt about my refusal?
I reached for the door. He caught my arm. I cut him a hard look and said, "Re-"
He cut me off with his mouth, shoving his fingers into my hair and slanting his mouth over mine, kissing me, claiming me in a way he'd never done before.
I tried to resist him, but I tasted more than need in him. I tasted his fear of losing me.
I barely remember how, but suddenly his seatback was down and I was on top of him, forgetting that I was in my apartment parking lot. In seconds he was inside me and I was riding him, grinding my hips against his, reveling in him filling me, touching me. In the way he couldn't seem to get enough of me.
When I finally collapsed on top of him, I lay there and listened to his heartbeat, fighting a wave of emotion very unlike me.
"Move in with me, Hinata." he ordered softly.
"Why?" I asked this time.
"Because I want more than we have now."
"But not the same kind of 'more' that I want," I whispered. "And I'm not sure how I let that happen."
He slid his hands to my face and forced my gaze to his. "It's the only kind of 'more' I know how to give."
"Maybe that isn't enough for me."
"How do you know if you don't try."
"I just... do."
"You are more to me than any other sub has-"
"Don't," I said, rolling off him and struggling into my seat. "Don't finish that sentence!" By the time I was sitting where I belong again, he'd raised his seatback.
"You're upset. We'll talk about this tomorrow."
"No." I managed to awkwardly deal with the mess we'd made of my clothing and my emotions. "I don't want to talk tomorrow. I want to go to work and love my job and not think about this at all." I got out of the car and he followed. I knew he would. The Master must protect-right? But who was going to protect me from him?
At my apartment, I turned to him. "Goodnight." I opened the door to go inside.
He gently shackled my arm. "We'll talk tomorrow."
"I'm done. This isn't me. It never was."
His eyes glinted hard. "I'm going to change your mind."
I didn't answer and he let me go.
I quickly went inside, before I did something stupid like telling him to change it right now. I rested against the other side of the door and I could feel him doing the dame on the outside.
He is an addiction, and addictions are never good for you. He'd taking me deeper into his world, deeper into his dark desires, but I'm never able to get behind the physical aspect of our relationship. I just lose more of who I am.
And then came the roses...
They arrived at my door the next morning, and I was seduced by the romantic gesture. And later, when we talked, he assured me that these new, darker places I could feel him taking us was just another part of discovering us, and developing into a deeper level of trust.
I was scared. I knew it meant that calling him "Master" would take on a new meaning. But I convinced myself that if I wanted more from him, maybe he still needed more from me first.
And so I gave up what was left of my life outside of being his, I thought I wanted my life to be his life but somehow, by letting him control more of me, he gave me less of him. The things I have done to please him... well, let's just say I'd never do them for anyone else. I've gone everywhere he's asked me to go. I've gone places I never thought I could go. Don't things that shredded me inside and out. Now, I need more from him.
9:30 a.m.
At my desk...
I have work to do, important details for a big event we are hosting off-site Sunday night. A local artist who paints food is showing at a new bakery owned by the renowned chef Choji Akimichi. I set up the event after a visit to the bakery, managing to arrange for the chef and the artist to attend. It's like nothing the gallery has ever hosted, and Naruto actually complimented me. Even after all of this time, a compliment from "Bossman," as Lee calls him, is hard to get. But then, he put me in charge of the Riptide auctions. I'd say that is a pretty big compliment.
And I should be thinking about the event, calling customers to confirm they are attending, rather than focusing on the fact that "he" hasn't called me, and what that means. I should go get coffee and clear my head. Yes, I'm going to get coffee, and not next door. I'm sticking to the kitchen and the gallery.
3:00 p.m.
Control. He has it. I do not. I want it back. He thinks I already have it back, and he's punishing me for it. He still hasn't called me. He's reminding me that he has the power to make me need him, to crave the sound of his voice. And I do. Damn it, I do. I never doubted his power over me, though I keep reminding myself that his actions say he is doubting it. He'd the one trying to prove something that I already know: I need him. And he's worried that I don't. That has to mean something. Staying at my apartment has been the smart thing to do. And I'm off tomorrow with lots of time to myself to think. It's not only given my space to think but also spawned some in him. Maybe, just maybe, it can be a catalyst for something different for us.
Oh, God. Hanabi just told me I have company. Master Two is here, claiming he wants to talk about a painting I've been helping him with. But I know that's not why he's here.
10:00 p.m.
My apartment...
I'm on my couch with a pizza box open on my coffee table. I ate half of a large cheese, plus one extra slice. And some double-stuffed Oreos, though I mostly licked the cream out of them. Funny how stress makes me eat one minute and the opposite the next. Apparently tonight was "feed the problem" night. Does the fact that it was all junk food have any meaning? Oh, yeah. You betcha.
But now that I am stuffed, I have no more excuses left for not writing this entry. Tonight it is clear to me why I've withdrawn from my writing journals. Creating the entries really does force me to face feelings I'd rather not face. The same reason I've ignored my Master's calls. I'm not ready to face where things are going, or not going, between us.
So, let's see.. Where should I start writing? This afternoon, which I consider the beginning of the end with my Master. I need to think of the event I'm about to describe that way. I need to remember that this relationship I am in is not the one I want, nor is it what I ever set out to develop. I have to remember this when I see my Master again.
No, when I see "him" again-when I ensure he is no longer my Master. Because today was unacceptable. Today was the final straw that broke the camel's back, as my mother would have said.
Master Two came into my office, dressed in a suit looking his usual handsome, debonair self, his eyes hot with an intent that told me I was right to be worried. The laptop in his hand, free of a case, was the next indicator.
He shut the door. I stood up, my spine stiffening. "We don't meet when he'd not here." My heart was thundering like a hard, heavy drum and I thought it might break my breastbone.
"He wants me here," he assure me, stalking forward, and coming behind the desk before flipping open the screen and watching the system boot up. He hit a few keys and began to dial up a video program that I knew better than I wanted to.
Master Two stared down at me with so much primal heat, I cut my gaze t the computer. "He" appeared on the screen and my thundering heart sputtered a moment. "You know how I feel about my job and persona life being mixed," I hissed at Master.
"This does nothing to hurt your job," Master assured me. "You are simply meeting with a legitimate customer."
Master Two wrapped an arm around me and pulled me against his hard body. "I'll make sure no one suspects anything but business happened when I leave." His hand glided over my backside and he turned to pull me flush to him, letting me feel his hard cock against my stomach.
"No," I panted at him and, damn it, I was aroused. My body (or maybe it's my mind) is programmed by my Master, with the help of Master Two (far too often for my happiness), to react automatically to them.
But I was at work, and that had me clinging to sanity. My fingers dug into his arms. "Not here. Later. When I'm home."
"Right now," Master said softly. "Here. Do it because it pleases me." He paused. "Or don't. This is your decision. It's always your decision."
I hated how aroused I was, how easily I could say "yes" and forget the important barrier I'd put in place. And once I forgot it, he'd forget it. I'd be headed down a path I didn't want to go. In some corner of my mind, I knew that's how I'd ended up here. I had let myself go places just to please him, places I wasn't comfortable going that led to darker and darker places.
Master Two leaned in and whispered in my ear. "I'd like to set you down in that chair, spread you wide, and lick you into oblivion. Just say the word."
I squeezed my eyes shut and my thighs together. This was part of the power play. This was my Master proving to me he still had this kind of power over me. Or maybe he was proving it to himself.
I fought to remember the journal entries, and the reasons why I should or shouldn't do this. He needed this. He needed to feel he still had this hold on me. Didn't loving him mean giving that to him?
"Yes," I whispered. "Okay."
Master Two yanked my slim-cut lavender dress to my hips and turned me so that my backside was on display for my Master. I could feel his hot stare on my body and my skin heated, and my breast growing heavy, my thighs tight. Master Two cupped my backside and squeezed, his eyes finding mine, his breath warm as it tickled my lips.
"It's all about you, baby. Moan for me. That's all I want." He turned me and set me in the chair before I could blink, he was on his knees in front of me, spreading my legs. But then the roses flashed in my mind. I'd thought giving him more meant he'd give me more. Maybe... maybe I needed to give him less.
"Red," I said, murmuring my safe word. And then louder. "Red."
Master Two immediately dropped his hands from my legs. I stood up and pulled my dress down and turned to the computer screen, shaking. "I can't do this. Not anymore."
I saw a flash of something in his eyes that I want to believe was pain. Knowing we are falling apart is destroying me, and I need to know he feels something, too. I gave him the power to hurt me, and I gave him my heart. He never promised me his. He never... he never promised me anything he didn't give me..
The computer screen went dead and I had to walk Master Two out, making small talk and pretending that his hands had not just been on my backside, that my thighs were not slick from how near his tongue had been to licking me.
When I returned to my desk, my cell phone immediately rang and I knew it was my Master.
I didn't answer. I can't talk to him. And it's not even because I'm angry. It's because I'm weak. I'm always so damn weak with him.
Midnight..
Last thought of the night. No more contracts. No more being shoved into a box of his design. I'm still willing to go where we've been, and be submissive during erotic play, but not at other times. Not on his terms only.
Tomorrow, when I see him, we will be different. I will be different. I'll be me again, the woman he wanted when al of this started. I will be Hinata Hyuga, again.
Okay, a second last thought that seems unrelated-or maybe it's not. Maybe it's just an indicator of how much of a wreck I am right now, but that weird foreboding I had for weeks last year is back. I hate the feeling, the sense that something terrible is going to happen. I just keep telling myself nothing terrible happened last year. And nothing terrible is going to happen now.
Forgive me if I misspelled! My human eyes are tired of writing and I can't seem to spot any more errors q:
Until next week! ;)
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