Breathe (Songs of Submission #10)(7)

“I’m assuming this has to do with music?”

“Yes.” I sniffed, feeling broken all over again. “Mrs. Yuan. I don’t even know her first name. But she pointed out that I suck real bad. I don’t think I’m perfect. But I do. I must if I run away the first time someone tells me what I already know. Like they looked at me and recognized what everyone else couldn’t see. That I’m terrible. That I’m a liar. That I fooled everyone into thinking I have talent. And I started to believe my own lies, and I’m, like, goddamnit, why did I believe me? I feel—” Here was where I really started choking on my own spit. I couldn’t slow the crying down long enough to finish the sentence.

Jonathan reached for me, but I pushed him away.

“I feel worthless.” The last word squeaked out.

Jonathan pulled one of those monogrammed hankies out of his pocket and snapped it open. I smiled then sobbed again.

He put the hankie up to my nose. “Blow.”

I laughed and cried at the same time.

“Just blow it out, Monica.”

I blew. He squeezed my nose and rocked it back and forth.

“Hey!” I said, sounding as if I had a cold.

He pulled me to him by my nose. “I love you. And if I tell you you’re not worthless, you won’t believe me.”

He took the hankie away and balled it up on the table. His lashes glowed amber in the patio light, and the mating calls of the crickets suddenly sounded sexy as hell.

“If you never sang another note, I’d still love you,” he said.

“I know and—”

“Shh.” He held up his hand then held mine. “That being said, your voice is what I fell in love with before I fell in love with the woman behind it.”

“So you say.”

“And your body. I liked that.”

“Yeah, well—”

“And your moxie.”

“My moxie ? How old are you, grampa?”

His eyes glittered green with amusement, and his hands found their way between my knees. He yanked my knees open with a swiftness that made me gasp.

“Tonight, I’m going to hurt you. I’m going to make you beg for mercy. I’m going to break you down so hard so you don’t have to be broken down over this bullshit. I’m the only one who gets to make you cry.”

“God, yes.”

“What’s your safe word?”

“Tangerine.”

He leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee. After looking me over for a second, he picked up his book and opened it. “Go into the bedroom. When I get there, you’d better be ready.”

eight.

MONICA

He made me wait.

He always made me wait when he was serious, and the longer I waited, the more serious he was. I thought, as I waited on the bed with my cheek on the bedspread and my ass in the air, that he was making me wait longer than ever. The anticipation made the backs of my legs tingle. I wanted to touch myself. At first I thought I’d just see how wet I was, but he’d know and he’d punish me by not letting me come.

He said nothing when he finally entered the room. He stood by me. I couldn’t see him. I could only feel his presence, hear his breath, sense his intentions.

He laid his hand on my lower back and pressed down. It was the standard correction. My ass was never high enough.

“Thank you,” I said.

He stood and undid his belt. “Thank me later. Get on your back and open your legs. Knees up. I want to see that cunt.”

I did it. He positioned himself at the foot of the bed, where I could see him between my legs. Half-open shirt and cock-strained trousers. Belt looped in his right hand. Watch and wedding ring on his left.

I almost came just looking at him. When he reached over and pulled my legs apart wider, I lost myself in a rush of sensation.

“Did you just come?” he asked.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “You’re going to hurt for that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Open your mouth.” I did, and he put the belt in it.

“You know I don’t do toys,” he said, running his hands over the length of my inner thigh, engaging just enough nail to wake up my skin. “Toys are for children. But sometimes I have to make allowances for safety.” He sat on the bed next to me and held up an oddly-shaped glass bulb about two inches long. “Do you know what this is?”

“Yes. It’s a butt plug,” I said around the belt, and it sounded like a series of grunts.

“I don’t want to be gentle, but I don’t want to harm you either. This is the solution. And I can’t makeshift one out of stuff around the house because I don’t want to take you to the hospital when something breaks inside you.”

He took out the belt. I had enough time to lick my lips before he grabbed my cheeks, forcing my mouth open, and put the butt plug in my mouth.

“Get that wet for me.”

I rolled my tongue around the slick glass. It pressed my tongue to the bottom of my mouth. I puckered my lips around the narrow part, sucking until the flat stopper pressed against my lips like a pacifier.

Jonathan went back to the foot of the bed and looped the belt back up. I held my legs open with my hands.

“Now, first. The original issue. You’re mine. When you let someone else get to you, you deny me my ownership. That is not acceptable.” He tapped my inner thigh with the belt. “I own you. I can get inside you. I can hurt you. I own your pain. No one else.”