Chapter 11

We sit and talk over hot chocolate. He seems very concerned about my lack of enjoyment with these things. "I've had girls that didn't like it rough, and I understand that, but I've always been able to get a real orgasm out of them once I modified my performance," he says.

"Why are you so concerned with how we feel?" I ask.

"Why shouldn't I be?" he questions. "This is a dance, it takes two people, and both have to be willing to comply. If a woman ever does not enjoy anything whatsoever, which I have yet to find, I always promised myself I would set them free. There is always a chance that your going to run into guys you don't like to sleep with, but if they find some that are good and enjoyable, then I don't feel as bad. Obviously it would be hard to free someone, with all the legality. That is why I don't set them all free. But I promised myself that if I find a girl that does not know how she likes it, and I am unable to teach her, then she will be free. I've never found a girl that hasn't enjoyed at least one way of this dance." I stare at him wide eyed and surprised.

He's willing to set them free...sort of.

"You're willing to set someone free?" I ask, more like a clarification to know that I actually hear what I just heard. He nods his head, I can't believe this.

"And you might be, but I have to see if I can find a way you like it though, but don't try to fake it, I will know. I know if you actually enjoy it, semi enjoy it, or don't at all."

"I sort of figured since you were able to tell I was faking back in the bedroom," I say quietly.

"Right, so you don't like things rough, we'll try other things tomorrow. For today we're just going to spend the day getting to know each other."

"Can you do that? Certainly I have to be back at some point."

"Oh no, I have all the time in the world. This whole pregnancy thing could take months, and as of right now, you're free rent. This can be prolonged as much as you or I want, within reason. It may take months to reach their goal."

"Really?" I ask and he nods his head. I don't want to be here for months, then again I don't want to be here at all.

"Right, so now that we're both done with our drinks, why don't we sit down and have some quality time together. We can watch TV or play a game, something to break the ice."

"Okay," I say. I don't know how to play games or watch TV. I've never done any of these things, I don't even know what exactly a TV is. Puzzled by my lack of selection, Brea chooses to watch TV. He leads me into the living room and we both sit on the couch and he turns on the screen, this must be the TV. Okay.

He searches through titles on the screen and chooses one, it's about a murder that a few people are trying to solve. It bores me, but if it keeps me out of his bedroom I'm grateful.

We sit for hours watching this show, and then another one, and then another show after that. All are different plots and characters, but none of them are interesting to say in the least. Brea cooks dinner, and then retires to go get a shower before we both turn to our beds in our seperate rooms.

The night drags on and I am unable to sleep. I lie awake all night, hoping tomorrow never comes. Tomorrow is another day here, another day of trying to conceive, another sex session and Brea trying to make things right and find what I like.

Unfortunately for me, time does not stop, it plows forward and before I know it morning is upon us and Brea is making me eggs and bacon for breakfast, along with coffee, which is awful and has a bitter taste.

We eat and he talks about his plans for me today. He's going to try something new, something a little less rough, a little more gentle, but not too much. He commands me to tell him when something doesn't feel good, or if I'm not enjoying it.

"You won't at first, I'll need to get you going, but once we're a few minutes into it let me know what you are and are not liking," he says. I nod my head and he leads me up to the bedroom, I strip in front of him and he undresses himself, bare and vulnerable I walk tediously over to him. He embreaces me and kisses me fervently, I return, pushing my tongue into his mouth and entwining with his. He runs his hands gropingly down my back and squeezes my bottom. I jump up and he carries me across the room to the bed and lays me on it gently but hastily, then crawls on top of me.

His eyes are full of desire and want when he stops kissing me and licks and nips downwards. I pant and writhe beneath him and he stops and looks up at me. "Don't. Fake. It." he growls. "I want your honesty as much as I want your body."

He continues down my body, ravaging me. I lay in quiet, letting the feel take effect. He nips and it feels okay, he licks and it's gentle, which i like. I lay still until he gets down to my sex. He licks me below, and I involuntarily buck my hips once and sigh. He looks up at me expectantly, "how am I doing?"

"Good, good," I say. "I'm doing okay."

"Okay isn't what I want, I want you dripping. I want you cumming when I tease you," his eyes pierce through me, and for a minute I feel a little bit more fear towards him. "Tell me when I'm doing something you like or don't like. Direct me," he growls before continuing his assult on me.

He licks and sucks on my lips and I say tell him it's okay. He moves to my entrance and darts his tongue in and out and I tell him its better. He keeps darting his tongue in and out, and I pant at the feeling. He takes this as a good sign and keeps going, darting his tongue in and out for so long that I wonder how he is not tired. He keeps going and then circles his tongue around my walls. I moan and he picks up the pace.

"Mmmmn," he groans as he licks me, " you are so intoxicating." He sniffs my most intimate parts and I buck my hips, though I don't know why. There is no reason that him sniffing and licking me is sexy.

"You're liking it better baby, I can tell," his voice is husky and lustful as he stops licking me and crawls back up to me. "You like it when I thrust my tongue inside of you and you like it when I circle your walls, now we're going to try some nipple play he says running his tongue along the outline of my breasts. It's a weird sensation and I don't know if I like it or not, but I writhe like I do.

He outlines my breasts a few times with his tongue, occasionally licking one or both of my nipples, and I groan. He does it again, and I involuntarily whimper. He smirks at me and then bites down on my nipple, not hard, enough to illicit pain from it though and I yelp.

"Okay, so no biting," he says and lightly kisses my nipple in apology. "Sorry baby," he says and continues licking them with a little more force, but not anything painful. Really the assault feels heavenly, and I moan for him gratefully. "Hmm, so your a nipple kind of girl huh? A first for me, but lets see if I can make you come this way.

He changes his tune, and instead of licking, he rolls them with his fingers, the pressure is slightly uncomfortable, but it feels good also. I close my eyes and breathe heavy, and he tightens his grip and keeps going, rolling each of my nipples between his nimble fingers. I pant with some sort of feeling that takes over me, desire? It can't be. I do not love this man.

"Yeah, you like that baby, come on let it build up, let it go." I pant more and moan as he goes a little faster, and he continues his assult. "Let go," he growls, and I try to but I just can't.

"I- can't," I groan.

"Then I'll give you something that will," he growls and slams his length into me so hard I whimper. He doesn't break eye contact as he lets me adjust, then starts to move at a slower pace. I close my eyes and try to do nothing but feel.

He picks up the pace, slamming into me, letting me adjust, and then slamming into me again, over and over. He stops playing with my nipples in order to steady himself, and then pounds into me, over and over at rapid paces, slowing down, and then going rapid again.

"Come on baby, come on," he hisses through gritted teeth. "I'm not coming until you do." I groan at his response, and he goes faster yet, his length is long and girthy, and it hurts so bad. "Come on," he yells, bending down in order to lick my nipples. I feel the strangest feeling of something building, and I yell, which is enough to send Brea over the edge and I feel him spill inside me.

"Damn it!" he yells once he's finished. Panting, he slides out of me and grabs a towel from the bathroom. "I had you, I almost had you. Son of a bitch." He cleans me up without another word, and then cleans himself.

"Please don't be angry," I whisper, and he looks up at me with a piercing gaze that makes me want to cry.

"I'm not angry at you," he sighs. "I'm angry with myself. I had you close, so close, and I lost myself. You were there, I almost had you there, and then I let go sooner than I wanted to."

"It's okay, really it's not a big deal," I murmur quietly. I'm still testing the boundaries as to how angry he is and how I can act when he is angry. I don't want to upset him so much that he'll hurt me, which is what I'm afraid he might do. I really don't know this man at all.

"IT IS A BIG DEAL," he roars. "You have no idea how important this is to me. I'm not one of those shit bags out there that only care about themselves. It's far more enjoyable if you can get the girl to go along with it, I mean really go along with it instead of faking. Most aren't able to tell when a girl is faking, and the rest don't care. I'm not one in a million, but I don't want to be like those pigs. Yeah I get it, its great to go out and rent someone and fuck their brains out, but you know my father told me a long time ago that it's a lot better making her feel good too, and he's completely and totally right." I look at him wide eyed and confused. I seriously don't understand this man. Why he is so keen on trying to get me to come I don't know. He can't care that much.

"Look, I have a job that I'm getting paid to do here, and you're going to get pregnant and you're going to have a child, but you are not leaving this house until I get you to cum. Plain and simple." He eyes me with a wild look in his eyes and I swallow the knot in my throat. He doesn't even glance at me as he gets dressed and I think he starts down the stairs before coming back up and he goes in his office and slams the door shut. I sit on the bed, his bed, for a moment and then tip toe to my room and quietly shut the door. There I spend my time trying not to cry until I hear him go down the stairs and clang pots around.

He fetches me an hour later with a soft knock on the door. He doesn't wait for me to tell him to come in, but there is no privacy and there never will be.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he begins. "I was just so close to making you feel good, actually good, and I let my own pleasure get the best of me. I'm going to be better not to make things so harsh for you, I'm not at all mad at you, it's not you, it's me. I need some time to think of ways to make you cum, but for now I would just like to enjoy a nice dinner with my guest in the house. So why don't you come downstairs and we'll both eat together and we don't have to talk about what happened earlier or in the past unless you want to. It's completely up to you. "

"Okay," I say and he goes to exit the room and I follow him obediently down the stairs and to the table where he has laid out ham and mashed potatoes, along with green beans, a side salad, and peaches. This is more food than I have ever seen in my life in the same spot. My eyes widen.

"What?" he eyes me suspiciously.

"Nothing," I shake my head. "I've just never seen this much food before, even though they fed me well, it still was never this much."

"Yeah, I did make too much, so there will be left overs for lunch. It's a planning ahead thing," he shrugs taking a seat at the table and gesturing for me to do the same.

We sit in silence for a while and eat dinner, and I coax Brea to tell me about his life, his job, what he likes to do, etc. He falls for the trick well, I sometimes do this to prolong getting fucked when I know that the client will be rough. It's a habit I have picked up certainly.

"Well, I work at a newspaper company, editing reviews and stories for others so they are grammatically correct before shipping them off to printing. I enjoy lots of things, watching TV, cooking, biking. I really love trying to fix things, mechanical and human. It's kind of a passion of mine. I see something broken, or something that could be improved and I go for it. "I guess not," I say as I look down at my plate. He's trying to fix me, I'm considered broken to him. I should have known I was just a hobby, a different one, but a hobby none the less.

"Hey what's wrong?" he asks me after a few minutes of stirring food around on my plate. I look up and he is watching me with quizzical eyes.

"Nothing, I'm just full, I guess."

"No your not, you may be full, I don't know about that, I can't tell, but I know that something is bothering you, what is it?"

I look down again. Keep your mouth shut. There is no reason to tell him the thought you just had, it may start something you can't control.

"It's okay, you can tell me, please. I want you to be honest with me, I would really appreciate if you would tell me what is making you so upset all of the sudden." I continue to say nothing and take a bite of my food. He stares at me, eyeing me, his eyes burning through me like fire.

"I've had enough with you being quiet, now either you tell me what is bothering you, or I will take you across my knee and I will smack your ass, I know your not fond of it." I stare at him in disbelief, I can't believe him. One minute he's telling me I don't have to talk if I'm not comfortable, and the next he's demanding what is wrong with me that is making me feel the way I am.

"I'm just another broken thing," I whisper. His shoulders drop in a disappointed gesture.

"Yes, you are. I'm not going to lie and deny it, but listen, I like to fix things, I like taking things that need improvement and fixing them. It's what I do. I always loved to fix objects, now people are becoming part of that list. It's not an offense to you, trust me, everyone could use a little work, I just happen to know what work you need and how to help...sort of."

"Okay," taking a sip of water to increase my thinking time. He still has not made me feel better that I am a broken toy that he wants to fix. It's almost worse than being sold out as a slave...well maybe not.

He is trying to help you...