Breaking My Own Rules Ch. 09

"I'm supposed to be pleasing you," I protested.

"Pleasing you pleases me," he said, then was kissing me before I could argue anymore. When he broke off the kiss, I took a deep breath, ready to relaunch my protest, but then he was at my breasts and I couldn't for the life of me remember what I was going to say. He straddled me, resting his ass on my legs as he kneaded my breasts with his hands and alternated sucking my hard, tender nipples. The sensation was overpowering, yet I kept arching my back, daring him to take more, suck harder, nip. I was almost sobbing when he finally slipped down between my legs, pushing them wide and resting the head of his cock at my entry. But then, he didn't move.

"Francois!" I screamed in frustration, trying to wiggle down onto him. He simply grasped my hips and pinned me down.

"All in good time, little one. I've decided I need to taste you again."

I couldn't think of a good argument against that, so I concentrated on catching my breath as he so slowly sank down between my legs, letting his warm breath wash over my pussy long before his tongue reached out and made contact. When it did, I jumped as if he'd completed an electrical circuit. How could I still be so sensitized? Not only that, but I was as wet as if I was still in the shower. When his tongue coyly avoided my clit, I couldn't stand it anymore. "I'm going to lose my mind, here, Francois, and it's not going to be a pretty sight," I warned. "In fact, if you have a house keeper, I can guarantee she'll quit."

He laughed, but he finally went to work on my clit and had me coming in a matter of minutes. Then he plunged inside me before that orgasm had even begun to fade. I pulled my knees up and wrapped my ankles around his ass, trying to pull him even deeper into me with each thrust. His hands slid up along my back until his fingers wrapped over my shoulders and pulled me onto his cock with each stroke. I reached for his ass, desperate to speed the release of the pressure that was expanding rapidly in my belly, but abruptly he was pulling out and I literally sobbed at the loss, until he flipped me over, pulled me to my knees and slammed back into me. It was like a pin in a balloon. I exploded from the inside out, screaming into the mattress. He was holding me up by the hips, slamming into me over and over again, riding me harder than anyone ever had. His balls were slapping sharply against my clit, and somehow, the sting of that slap sent me over yet another edge, though I had no breath left to scream with.

I was only vaguely aware when he found his own release, groaning through gritted teeth as he strained to sink even deeper into me. Then he collapsed on top of me, our legs in a tangled mess not unlike my hair. We both struggled to catch our breath. At some point, he reached around me and pulled me closer against his chest. "Are you cold?" he asked with concern.

"I tell you what. If I'm ever cold again, I'll just remember this morning. That'll warm me right up."

He chuckled.

****

When we could both move again, I put the tee shirt back on and we had gone out to sit at his kitchen counter and have more coffee. I even tried his French style café au lait. Mostly, I fought with my hair. Whenever I let it dry without working the tangles out, I swear I'll never do that again. So another rule broken, but this time I figured the reason was well worth it. On top of letting it dry with tangles intact, all I had with me was the pathetic little brush I carried in my purse. Francois watched me for a while with ill-disguised humor, then took the brush from me and set out to free the tangles that my efforts had just made worse. I must admit I teared up a little bit. Other than the occasional hair stylist, the only person who had ever helped to comb my hair was my mother, and she had died when I was thirteen. I didn't let Francois see, though. That was more of my baggage than he should have to deal with, especially given how much he was already dealing with.

Of course, it was just about then that he announced he wanted me to come and stay with him until whatever was going on was resolved. He had said that Randy didn't tell him any more than that I had been in a troubled relationship, and I'd certainly avoided talking about it. But he obviously knew it had something to do with BDSM. I suppose that wasn't too hard a jump to make, given our discussion about whether I wanted a Dom and the fact that Randy was involved in some way, but still.

I shook my head, wondering how I could explain just enough to make him understand that my refusal had nothing to do with him. He pretty much took that quandary off my hands, though, because his next question was, "Are you afraid?" That really didn't lend itself to an answer of 'It's not you, it's me.' I became suddenly, intensely interested in my lukewarm coffee. "Skylar?" he prompted, softly but firmly.

I grudgingly nodded. "Is there danger?" he asked, when I didn't offer any explanation.

"Yes. I think so. I don't know. Maybe not," I said with brilliant clarity. I went to sit on the couch, hoping that would somehow end the conversation, which of course it didn't. He followed me.

"Talk to me," he ordered, sitting in the middle of the couch. Not close enough to be touching, but too close to ignore. I pulled my knees up to my chin and hugged them, as close as I could get to an upright fetal position.

I sighed. "He made threats against my family and friends. He said they'd be hurt."

"Because you ran away from him?"

I ran my fingers through my hair, tangling it all over again. "Randy found out I'd been..." I searched for a euphemism that sounded less stupid than 'seduced to the dark side.' "...introduced to BDSM. He was concerned, wanted to be sure I was being safe. I guess I wasn't very convincing, because he took me to the club to show me... stuff."

"The rules, the consent forms?" I nodded. "Yes, he is proud of the club's efforts to practice safe BDSM. I am not surprised. But then what happened? Did you talk to this man about it, ask him to respect your limits?"

"He was there. At the club. He saw me and he was furious. I was so scared, Randy insisted that I go home with him and stay with DeDe, not back to my apartment."

Francois seemed puzzled. "Is your building secure?"

"It was until he moved in and hacked the security system."

"I see," Francois said, as if it were an everyday occurrence. "And then?"

"He was waiting for me after work the next day. He said I was his and that he would hurt anyone else I 'played' with. He demanded that I come home with him so he could 'correct my behavior.' I made a scene and ran for a cab. Later, he sent a text saying he was going to hurt my friends and family." So much for only revealing the bare minimum to convince Francois he didn't want to get involved with me. "If I stay here, that will just put you in danger, too."

"That is my decision to make," he said sternly. "So, you are thinking of going back to him? Is that what DeDe meant last night?"

"I'm afraid. For my dad, for my friends. Not for me," I said bravely, which of course he saw right through.

"You think he will hurt you, punish you, and then it will be over?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied warily.

"Why?" was all he said.

I shook my head in confusion. "Why? Because that is how it's always been with him. I disobey, and he punishes me and that's the end of it."

"Until the next time you disobey."

"Well, yeah," I said. It all seemed obvious to me. Action/reaction. End of story.

"How many times have you disobeyed him after he has punished you?"

"Um, a lot, I guess."

"So what would you say is the chance that you will disobey again? If you go back to him now?"

I shrugged reluctantly. "I'm not very good at obeying, I guess."

"And if you go back to him now, will that not show him that hurting people you care about is an even more effective punishment than hurting you?"

I was swiping angrily at the moisture that kept accumulating in my eyes. "You don't understand," I snapped petulantly.

"Don't I?" he said softly.

"Stop it!" I shouted angrily. "You're doing just what he does, twisting logic into ropes to tie me up with." I jumped off the couch and ran to the spare bedroom, finding DeDe's dress and heels, yanking the clothes on even as I searched for my purse. He followed me and stood in the doorway, looking hurt that I'd compared him to the asshole Dr. Tom. When I finally remembered that I'd left my purse in the guest bathroom, he was blocking my way.

"And just how did he twist logic?" he asked. His accent seemed thicker with the hurt I'd caused him.

"To start with, he was going to make me strong and bold by teaching me to obey. He was going to take me all the way to the bottom so that I could realize I'd been falling and choose to become something else. He made me..." I clapped my hand to my mouth, feeling sick.

"What," he asked softly.

I sank to the floor in a heap and the pain I'd been keeping chained inside came flooding out in a gushing of tears, accompanied by great wracking sobs. I buried my face in my hands, the heels of my palms pressed to my eyes, but they couldn't stop the flow. Snot was running from my nose, mixing with the tears. I tried to curl into the tightest ball possible, but then arms were around me, a handkerchief was covering the parts of my face that my hands weren't. I slowly realized that my human ball of misery was encircled by his warmth and compassion, despite the cruel accusation I'd thrown at him in an attempt to save myself from my own ugly truth. He was sitting behind me, legs wrapped around mine, arms holding me tight, his head resting against mine so that his warm breath fell on the back of my neck. I have no idea how long we sat like that as I bawled my eyes out. Long enough that every muscle in my body ached and my eyes ran out of tears, though my stupid nose seemed to have an endless supply of disgusting, embarrassing snot.

Somewhere around that point, he managed to scoop me up and move me onto the bed, then curl up around me again. My muscles screamed in protest, but eventually agreed among themselves that the bed was a definite improvement. When my sobs settled into intermittent sup-sups, and I'd blown my nose into the soggy handkerchief for the five hundred and sixty-third time, He asked again. "What did he make you do?" He wasn't going to leave it alone until he'd ripped my very soul open for inspection.

"That's the whole point," I said bitterly. "He didn't make me."

"I don't understand," he said softly, so close to my ear.

"I did it. With no prompting."

"Did what?" He was trying not to sound as confused as he must have been, given my cryptic soul searching.

"I apologized for touching my own body. For touching his property. And I fucking meant it."

"Skylar, if he can twist your mind to get you to cede yourself to him that completely, what can he wrest from you by threatening your family and friends? You can't let this go any further. You think it will stop if you go back to him, but you will only be giving him even more power over you. Let people help you."

"I don't want to get anyone else hurt. I couldn't live with myself."

He pulled me onto my back and rolled on top of me. "Don't make decisions for other people. They don't like it any more than you like him controlling you."

"Oh, my god!" I exclaimed as he stared intently into my eyes.

"What?" he asked with more than a touch of alarm.

"I just realized what I must look like. Get off, get off! I need to go wash my face!"

He rolled away, laughing at me, but when I emerged from the bathroom some time later, I noticed he had positioned himself at the end of the hall, just in case I decided to make a break for it. On the other hand, he held out a small bottle of Tylenol and a glass of water, both of which I desperately needed, so I decided to forgive him for assigning himself to guard duty.

He led me to the kitchen where he'd put together some cheese and crackers and slices of summer sausage. I wasn't in much of a mood to eat, but he kept pushing the plate closer to me. Finally, he sealed the deal by promising to call Randy and convince him to have DeDe stay there for the next few days, while I stayed with him. As an afterthought, I asked him to check with Randy to see if it would be safe to call my friends at work on Monday. I knew Randy thought the threats were idle, but I was not so sure and I wanted to at least let my friends know to be careful.

****

In the late afternoon, we all met up at DeDe's apartment so she could grab some work clothes and I could get my suitcase. I found myself clinging to Francois as we parked and had to walk several blocks to her apartment. I still wasn't convinced that Dr. Tom wouldn't be able to find DeDe's place. I must say, though, that I felt a huge wash of relief when I passed a coffee shop on her block and saw Maurice, sitting in a window seat, keeping an eye on things. He winked at me as I passed and I immediately started breathing easier.

When we reached the apartment, DeDe was going through her closet, trying to decide how many outfits to pack. She peeked out her bedroom then ran at me yet again to wrap me in her arms, pushing me back into Francois. I didn't complain, though I did step on his toe trying to catch my balance. DeDe was a force to be reckoned with. Randy had been on his phone but abruptly ended the call as I untangled myself from DeDe's hug and turned to him.

"I want to call my friends at work tomorrow," I told him, trying to sound stern.

"On the business line. After ten," he replied, "I called in some favors to get the security team to run a sweep on the phone system first thing."

I'm sure I looked deflated after preparing to go toe to toe with him over my demand. He gave me that nerdy smile. "Just don't tell them too much," he warned. "You don't want to frighten them."

"Okay. I'll just tell them I broke up with him and it was messy. I've told them something about his... proclivities. I can warn them to steer clear of him if they see him, right?"

"Yup. But don't give them your new phone number."

"What? Why?"

"You said he'd been on your old phone. He could have their numbers and try to find you through them."

"Oh," I said in my tiny voice.

A short time later, we loaded my suitcase and DeDe's bag into the trunk of Francois' car and drove to a quiet restaurant in midtown to eat dinner. By unspoken agreement, we talked about weather and sports and everything but 'him.' That night, Francois invited me to sleep with him, just sleep, he emphasized. My exhaustion must have been plain to see. Bawling my eyes out does that to me. He also was emphatic that he would not be offended at all if I wanted to sleep alone. I'm no fool. I picked him.

****

At ten o'clock sharp, I was dialing the business line for the company. When the switchboard answered, I asked to speak to Crystal, AKA Brunette, and was put through to her extension. After a few rings, it went to her voicemail, but I didn't leave a message since I couldn't give her my new phone number. I tried back, after racking my brain to remember Blondie's name. I knew her first name was Jessica, but we had a bunch of them. It took me a few minutes to remember that it was Jessica White. When her line went to voice mail, too, I began to wonder if there was a staff meeting or something. I hit zero to get back to the switchboard and asked for Shawna, AKA Exotic. She picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, it's Sky. What's going on? I can't reach Jessica or Crystal."

"Where are you? Why aren't you here? Why aren't you answering your phone?" she demanded.

"I'm kinda going through a rough patch," I explained. "I broke up with that kinky guy and he didn't take it well. I had to change my phone number."

"Jesus, did he beat you up?"

"No, it's just, well, he's kind of scary so I've been staying with a friend. He knows where I work, so I've been staying away until he moves on. So where are Crystal and Jessica?

"Crystal didn't come in or call in today. Nobody can get hold of her. Jessica has a key to her place so she went over there to check on her. I haven't heard back, yet."

"Oh, my god," I moaned. "Listen, give me their cell phone numbers." I glanced over at Francois, who seemed totally involved in whatever he was working on on his computer. "And yours, too. I don't have them on my new cell phone." I wrote them out on the palm of my hand.

"What's your new number?" Shawna asked.

"Um," I stalled.

"Shit, boss is coming. Call me back later," she instructed.

"I will," I said, though she had already hung up.

I sent a text off to Randy. 'Crystal is missing. Jessica has gone to look for her."

'I'll see what I can find out. Don't worry,' he sent back.

I walked across the room to Francois, feeling very uncomfortable about disturbing him at his work, but he looked up with a smile. "May I borrow your cell phone?" I asked. "I can't find a couple of my friends and Randy said I shouldn't call them from my new phone, just in case."

"Of course," he said, pulling it out and unlocking it before handing it over.

I tried Brunette's number first, but it went straight to voice mail, so I tried Blondie. She picked up after a couple of rings. "It's Sky," I told her. "Did you find Crystal?"

"Sky, where the hell are you? I thought you'd both gone missing!"

"Long story. What about Crystal?"

"She wasn't home, but it looks like someone was in her apartment. I called the police, but I don't know if they will come."

"What do you mean it looks like someone was in her apartment?"

"Well, you know how neat she is, but there were some drawers left open and papers all over her desk." Actually, I'd never been in her apartment, but I did know how she complained about my place when she came by, so it made sense.

"Okay, I need you to listen carefully. I have some friends who might be able to find out something about Crystal. But in the meantime, I need you to know that I broke up with that kinky guy. He was really mad, so if you see him, just steer clear. Okay? Promise?"

"Sure, okay. Is that why you haven't been answering your phone?"

"I got a new phone. He wouldn't stop calling. Listen, I've got to go, but I'll let you know if I find out anything."

"But what's your new number?"

"Gotta go! Sorry."

I hung up and turned to give Francois his phone back. He was watching me with concern. "Your friends?"

"One of them is missing. She's not at her apartment and she's not answering her phone. I let Randy know. Blondie, um, Jessica says it looks like someone might have been in her apartment."

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," he said, trying to calm me.

"It's just not like her, though," I complained. "She even says she wants to be buried with her cell phone. She can't stand being out of contact like this."

"Skylar, people lose their cell phones, break them, let the battery run down. You're letting your imagination carry you away." He stood and drew me into a hug. I savored that comforting closeness until my phone pinged with a text message. I pulled it out of my jeans pocket and looked at the screen. It was from Randy.

'Crystal is in the hospital. More later.'