5: Gian (i)

I could see clearly that she was remembering that day, and the glazed look on her face told me more than she unconsciously wanted to show. I wanted to close my eyes but I had to watch. I was the reason she had that memory inside her head now, something that could never be erased. I shouldn’t ever try to avoid seeing that look on her face. The look that told me she knew, somehow, but wouldn’t try to open her mind to it. Something dirty happened that day. I saw her eyes go over me and the inside of the office and the onset of suspicion began before she bluntly shut it off. She just wouldn’t allow herself to think badly of me.

Oh, Elise… 

When I arrived, Charis was on the brink of falling to the edge. One look and I knew she needed a fix and that if I didn’t do something about it, the meltdown would be catastrophic—right fucking there in the middle of Elise’s office. I had to first get her out of the eyes of everybody before that happened so I had to use that tone. And she easily got into the role, meekly following me inside the office and…

I closed the door behind us and locked it, and soon as that, I stalked towards where Charis was standing, trembling all over, in the middle of my office. I didn’t even know I was pulling my sleeves up, my nerves so shot and my feelings so chaotic that the cufflinks broke and scattered to the floor. I had no intention of touching her, but that wasn’t a problem with Charis. She would take anything in as long as she got filled. The rougher, the better. She’s a sex deviant, addicted, and I didn’t think there was anything in the medical industry that could fix her except putting her to sleep.

I had a feeling that was exactly what happened the last time she was inside a rehab. 

The Club could help her if she wanted to be helped. But she wasn’t wanting in because she needed discipline. She just wanted to play, and she would be abusing any member she found there who was clueless to what debauchery she was capable of, not to mention she couldn’t know any identity of any member because of the risk of exposure.  

And she wasn’t my problem. No. I wasn’t in The Club anymore.

But she was using me to get to them. The problem with Charis was she wasn’t just a sex deviant—she was a mental case. She wasn’t the usual sex addict who’d disciplined themselves to mask outside and let go in safe places. She was a wild card. She was someone Secret Sins Club would never dare touch. I was fucking stupid to fall into her trap.

I took pity on her, that’s it. She grew up in the States, somehow got the condition sometime in her youth and was made worse by the crowd she went with. Then her stepmother suffered a heart attack because of something she did—he thought he could imagine what it was until he learned exactly what she did later—and her father disowned her and sent her to her grandmother to deal with. But Tita Lucia had no idea. She just welcomed her with open arms, thinking there could be nothing about her beautiful granddaughter that money couldn’t fix.

 She was wrong.

Been there before.

You couldn’t fix someone who thrived on staying broken.

As I got near her, I saw the word her moving lips repeatedly whispered though she didn’t make any sound—she couldn’t. Part of the game. “Please, please, please, please, please—" But there was no helplessness on her face, an awareness that she was doing something that was way too unhealthy and dangerous. She would kill, or die, for a fix.

“You did something that really pissed me off today.”

She gulped, her face turning paler.

Get it done now. “Get on the floor, on fours. Now.”

She did, a hitch in her breath before she started panting. But that was the only sound she made. Her back did a writhing action when she heard me pull my leather belt off the slots in my pants. 

“Show me where I want it, dirty girl.”

She immediately pulled her skirt down. It was elastic, she was prepared. And of course, she was raw underneath. There were old marks already on her plump butt cheeks. I didn’t know if it was the one I made the first and last time we did this and I realized what an idiot I was and she realized I was one of the few who had the stomach for the kink she wa addicted to, or someone else’s marks on her.

I didn’t care. I was delivering her fix for the very last time, and I wanted her gone as soon as possible.

Forcefully commanding myself to forget at least at that moment that Elise and a handful of people were just outside my office’s locked door, I threw the first whip. Her back arched but she never made a sound. Not a cry. Not even a soft whimper. And I whipped, and whipped, and whipped, until a drop or three of blood seeped out on one of the angry slashes. Then I stopped.

She was whizzing now. Of pain. Of need.

I went to my desk and pulled the lowest drawer and took something out. She wanted my cock on her, I knew. But this would also do. Harder. Unrelenting. She would bleed. But it would be fast because she was just… right… there.

I had already rounded the desk and had come back to where she was on the floor, her face plastered on the carpet now, her butt up in the air, her whole body quivering and her pussy pulsing in anticipation of what she thought I would do. 

I saw her hands turning to fists on both sides of her when she felt the thick, rough and long dildo pushing through her pussy lips. No lube. She didn’t need it. She was dripping down her thighs already.

One, two… four forceful thrusts and she was cumming. But I knew this wasn’t enough. This was supposedly a punishment. She wouldn’t get away with what she did here today.