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Tovah

I ran like wolves were chasing me. Like if Isaac caught me, I’d die.

And maybe I would. He’d never seemed as angry as he’d seemed in the bedroom. They called orgasms “the little death” for a reason. But, little death or big one, I wasn’t going to wait to find out. Barefoot and naked, I raced out the bedroom and down the stairs, my feet pounding on the wooden floors as Isaac’s feet pounded behind me. If there was ever a time for my track team skills to kick in, it was now.

It didn’t matter that part of me wanted him to catch me, to toss me to the floor and drive into my pussy with his thick cock. No, even though Isaac was fully mentally present, he was so desperate for a fuck that it would still be taking advantage.

At least that’s what I told myself. I couldn’t admit that I was terrified of giving myself to him completely, about how much I wanted that, about what that might mean.

When I got to the front door, the real problem presented itself: I didn’t know the alarm code.

I was trapped.

And god, part of me, so badly, wanted to be trapped. Loved the feeling of being trapped by him. I loved it, the safety from knowing I had his protection, in these four walls and everywhere. And I loved the freedom of giving myself over to him, letting him take control, so I could explore the dark and dirty and scary parts of myself that loved what he did to me, without guilt or recriminations or questioning.

I was grateful to him, and I could never tell him.

Even when he appeared at the bottom of the stairs, advancing toward me, the chains still hanging from his wrists where they’d snapped in two…

…but he just passed me, going to the alarm system and typing in the code to disarm it.

“Run, bad girl,” he repeated. “Run.”