Page 58 of Fragments

He feeds me pieces of fruit, dark eyes set on my mouth while I suck his fingers. Then I sit on his lap and whisper, “I missed you, Daddy,” while he touches my body all over.

The atmosphere in the room is hot and sticky with fevered lust, and by the time he’s shedding his very expensive jacket, my cock is visibly aching through the fishnets. He’s wearing a three-piece suit, only removing the jacket, vest and tie, unbuttoning his shirt and pants slowly, but keeping them on while I writhe around on his lap, holding my waist so I can grind my leaking erection on his abs.

I’m lost in my thoughts, the fire in my head burning memories with crackling orange. It’s not exactly the same, but all of these older, dominant men only remind me of one person…

The guy who’s downstairs right now with yet another cheap knock-off of fifteen-year-old Ren.

I know he knows that’s what he’s doing. Desperately clinging to the memories of us, just like I’ve been.

The man in the mask tears open my stockings and sits me down on his long cock, my eyes rolling to the heavens in stardust sensation.

And I bounce on him with greedy chase, whining, “Fuck me,Daddy. You’re the only one who fucks my little pussy so good.”

I see him lusting after my cock the whole time, and when he lifts the mask enough to free his mouth, leaning down to swipe my crown with his tongue, I’m fuckingflying.

He comes in my ass, then makes me suck him until he’s hard again while he plays with my wet hole. With his dress shirt hanging open, I can help but note one distinguishing mark; a tattoo on his chest…

The sexual game has my body coiled more than usual. I’m swimming in this lush, heady sex, not nearly as painful as I usually need, but still driving me higher and higher. In fact, I think this might be giving memorepleasure than I feel from the pain. And it’s confusing…

Because I deservehurt, not bliss.

Ineedto be beaten and choked and ruined. But this is different…

This is the agony ofpassion.

The masked stranger moves between my legs, fucking me slow, and deep. He puts his hands around my throat, not to punish me, but toownme. He rasps that he wants the dildo, and though I’m not a top at all, I find the notion of fucking him while he fucks me very exciting.

I slide it inside him slowly while he purrs and groans from beneath that stupid rubber mask. The rhythmic rocking of his hips, back on the slick object, then forward, thrusting his bare cock deep in my ass, pushes me over the edge before I’m even ready.

Clenching on him, I come, unexpected and so fucking bright. And he comes with me.

We’re both just coming and crying, and this is so unlike anything I’ve experienced with any other client before, but it’seuphoric. It’s a moment that sets me ablaze…

I’m being held and caressed by the pleasure. A warm embrace. Like it’s cradling me in a way I haven’t felt since the first man who lit me up…

Callum Kade.

Riding the high of such illustrious sex goes on for much longer than I can process.

My body feels weightless. My head is in the clouds.

But I’mawake.

At a time like this, the last thing I want to do is go home. But I have to. It’s calling me… That Upper East Side prison housing terrible memories like inmates.

I’m cleaned up and ready to leave the club earlier than usual, thanks to my mysterious client, who shall henceforth be referred to asMask Daddy.

I wander outside, flipping off the black Town Car parked along the curb; the driver my parents hired to follow me around everywhere, claiming it’s for myconvenienceandsafety, though no one believes that. They’re spying on me, and I find it funny.

God only knows how much money they’ve spent paying this ding dong to sit outside the same place for a year. What idiots.

The entire subway ride back uptown, I’m thinking about the sex tonight, with Mask Daddy. I have to squeeze my thighs together to trap my erection from growing visible at the memories.

Tonight was so much better than it’s been with any of my regulars over the last year. For once, I’m swollen and achy, not from pain… frompleasure. And I’m buzzing on the notion that maybe the hurt in sex doesn’t always need to be from physical abuse.

It can hurt just as good when your body throbs greedily for a deep, satisfying climax.

Maybe that’s just how it feels when you connect… When your bodies click together, like fated stars in a constellation.