Tempting The Dominatrix

T W E N T Y - E I G H T

What the fuck was he doing in my bed?

He pauses for a minute, his eyes calm despite my menacing demeanor and unkind words. 

I cock my head for a second. 

Interesting. There's a burst of confidence bubbling in his chest. 

He's looking straight at me without an ounce of fear. There's an emotion swirling in his mind, yet I can't quite put my finger on it. And fuck, I've never felt so peeved and confused at the same time. 

He clears his throat, my hand still snugly wrapped around it. Then he speaks. 

"I heard you." He says, voice steady, not a stutter to be found. 

I cock my head the other direction, a cloud of confusion shading my eyes. 

But then it clicks. 

I don't speak.

But he does.

"I heard you scream. I thought you were in danger so I opened your door and...you were thrashing in your bed..." He pauses to run a hand over his face, almost like he could barely believe the words he uttered. Almost like he could barely believe the words he was about to say. 

"Spit it out." I seethe, increasing the grip I had on throat. 

He sighs. Suddenly, he looks so much older than his 18 years. Deep in his eyes, I say a conflicted storm, a mixture of something I cant discern and...understanding. 

Now that, I didn't expect.

"You were whispering 'no' over and over again. You looked like you were in so much pain a-and...The thought of you in pain crushed me. You were scratching at your neck, I-I thought you were going to hurt yourself so I took your hands away."

He looks up at me, trying to gauge my reaction.

But I give him nothing.

The stone mask has returned. He can't see shit if I don't want him to. Something I mastered a long time ago out of necessity. 

"I-I tried to leave but I couldn't bring myself to. So I laid down next to you. A-and you came closer. And I wanted to hold you so bad, I-I wanted to make the hurt subside, I wanted to be there...."

I say nothing. I just stare blankly into his eyes. I see the sincerity. I see the understanding. But I also see the tinge of pity. An emotion I find completely useless. 

"Look, I-I'm sorry if I crossed a line Mistress, but–"

"Get out." My eyes are steel. Unmoving.

"B-but–"

"Get the fuck out." I seethe, removing myself from his lap. I could feel it coming, and I couldn't discern whether my anger was toward him or the impending spiral, but I couldn't have me around me. Not here, not right now. I show no vulnerability toward anyone. I patched that part of my life up a long fucking time ago. Normally, I'd personally slice my inner labia before I let people see me vulnerable. Yet this man – no, boy – somehow caught me in a state of vulnerability that I let very few people see. And yet I had the best sleep with him in years. 

I was terrified. 

That's not an emotion I have allowed myself to get comfortable with.

And yet here we are. 

He stands, revealing his briefs. I refuse to look at him. He stops by the door, turning to say something. Instead, I interrupt.

"Just grab your fucking shit, and go."