The Voice in the Dark Ch. 03

I silently thank Lucy. She has been my guardian angel throughout all this, but I feel bad that all her efforts were in vain. She could not keep me from wanting to learn the truth, however unremarkable it was.

"This is the reason I have been miserable for months? Because of your selfishness! How dare you, Justin. How bloody dare you!"

"I didn't mean to say what I said, and I thought, given some time, we'd both calm down enough to try again, but you never answered my calls so I just changed my number and tried to move on with my life, but it's been really hard knowing I fucked up and I have a chance to put it right."

I stand up suddenly, boiling over with anger and resentment.

"You can NEVER put right what you have done to me! I want to move on. I want to be happy, and you come back into my life with your pathetic excuse for ending a near two year relationship? Really?! "

I think back on all our moments together. How can something so simple as a misunderstanding be enough to mess things up so completely? It's making me question everything about what we once were.

"Were you ever happy with me, Justin? Why would you throw away everything we had because of something that had nothing to do with me? And why the hell didn't you tell me that you had sent it to my publishing house?!" I want to scream even more at him for all the hurt and pain he has caused me, but I can tell by the look on his face that he doesn't have the answer to this.

"I did what I thought was right, but I realised my mistake for what it was eventually. The fact that you didn't answer made it all the harder to take back what I did. I just thought it best to leave you alone for a while, and try to get on with my life as best I could. It was only with time and really examining myself that I realise just how badly I fucked up."

I know that it's never as simple as one person fucking up a relationship, and there's always some contribution even the best partner can make to the dysfunction in a relationship. Justin and I were far from perfect, but I had hoped we were bigger than any problem, and that we could try to work on the things we weren't so good at, not just for the relationship, but for ourselves too.

I pause before I say, "Justin, why didn't you talk to me? Why didn't you let me help with your book, or ask for advice at least? I have no say in what the Non-Fiction department says, but I could at least have helped you get it to a place where you had a better chance."

Justin looks down to the ground as he says in almost a whisper, "Because I didn't want to feel like you were responsible for my success if I did get there. I wanted to feel like I had gotten there on my own, and after so long feeling like I couldn't gather the courage to actually do it, I was determined to get there. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, and the way I treated you, but I truly believe that we could be good for each other. We were good for each other for a long time after all. Can't we move past this?"

"Justin. I appreciate you made a mistake, but the consequences of such a mistake were far reaching. I don't know if I can ever trust you not to make such a hurtful, rash mistake like that again."

He looks crestfallen and reaches out for my hands, looking like he's on the verge of tears. I allow him to take them before he says: "Jess. I know I fucked up. I know I can't ever undo the hurt or the damage I have done to you but I have changed, and I want to give us another shot. I know you do too. Haven't you missed me?"

I momentarily soften as I reply, "Of course I have Justin, but that doesn't mean...."

"I missed you like crazy, Jess," he interrupts with his hands moving towards the sides of my face." I know I wasn't always the perfect boyfriend, and I made a lot of mistakes even before we broke up, but I do really want to try again. I want my dream girl back."

I look into his lovely eyes and hold his face in my hands. I register him closing his eyes and moving closer to my face and my eyes close as I move the rest of the way. The familiar feel of his soft lips touching mine is momentarily blissful, and I allow myself the illusion that all will be okay.

His hands hold the sides of my face as if afraid to let me go and my hands are on his shoulders. His tongue enters my mouth and for a second I don't want to pull away. I forget about all that is between us and everything that was special about us once comes rushing to the surface once again. My heart feels like it's breaking all over again as his hands move around my waist and he kisses my jaw as he tries to pull me into his lap.

I want more than anything to sink powerless into his arms, but I pull away from him at the last moment and face him square in the face with a determined look.

"Justin. I truly wish you the best, but I just don't think this relationship is worth fighting for. I'm sorry." And I find I mean it too. Every word.

"But Jess... I. Why? Why can't you? All couples argue and make mistakes." His voice is incredulous and his hands reach for me again but I push them away. I am disgusted by his sense of entitlement and I want nothing more than to slap him and pound my hands against his chest like they do in old movies.

"But they don't break up with their partner because they feel insecure or unworthy! That's unfair on me!" I yell at him.

I check the clock on the wall and see that Lucy will be home in an hour or so.

"Justin. There's nothing more for us to say. I can't trust you. All I ask is for you to leave me alone. Let me get on with my life, and you find a way to rebuild yours too. We both deserve to be happy."

"Jess... I'm sorry." His eyes brim with tears, and it's like a dart to my chest. He may no longer be my boyfriend, but I can't completely kill the part of me that once cared about him. I kneel on the floor, and kiss his cheek before brushing away his tears.

"I think it's time you left now. Maybe we can be friends in the future, but it's not good for me right now, and neither is it healthy for you."

He reaches out to hold me again, but I move away and fold my arms across myself protectively, not saying another word.

He pauses for what seems like an eternity, waiting for the moment when I break my silence. Then gets to his feet, and with one last look he leaves the apartment with a determined stride. I remain rooted to the spot, too stunned to move. I experience a dizzying sense of nausea, and my fists clench at my sides as I try to center myself.

But still, I refuse to cry. I dig my nails into my palms, not caring that I may draw blood. I grab my hair as if wanting to tear it out, then I reach for a large pillow on the sofa and scream my heart out into it until my throat is raw.

It's the eyes that have me. They always get me. They are brown, almost black as they dilate in pleasure at my approach.

"Get on your knees, pretty girl." He says with that familiar authoritative tone that soothes my tense muscles and dampens the sensitive folds between my legs.

I am naked, and proud of it. My boobs jiggle lightly as I sink to my knees and crawl towards him, my hips and butt swaying with my movements. My hair is neatly brushed and I can hear the tiny bell on the collar I have wrapped around my neck, making me feel strangely calm.

"Oh Jess. You're doing so well."

I want to always be on my knees for him and he strokes my hair as I notice that he is wearing a dark suit and open white shirt, sans the tie. The purple lead and the collar are the only spots of colour against the dark grey of the plush armchair he is in, and the carpet beneath my knees is reassuring despite the austerity of the colour.

His cock is out, and it looks painfully hard as his fingers fondle the leather of the lead attached to my collar. My head is on his lap, like a little puppy dog, and his fingers stroke my scalp so gently that I close my eyes in pleasure. I want to put my hands on him but like magic, the purple tie winds itself around my wrists tight.

He then moves to the edge of his seat, stroking his cock in front of me, teasing me. I am hungry for him, and my pussy feels like it's on fire as I can feel myself grinding ever so gently against the soft grey of the carpet.

"Oh no, good girl. No making yourself cum. You will cum only when I tell you to." His voice is calm but authoritative, and it does nothing to stop my wet pussy getting even wetter.

His hands tug my hair, using it as a rope to pull my mouth down onto him and I want to put my hands out on his thighs to prevent him moving his cock so far that it touches the back of my throat.

I can feel saliva pouring out of my mouth, down my neck and onto my chest, and the blood rushes up to the surface of my skin, causing redness in my face and chest. He stares down at me and our eyes meet. If possible, his cock gets even harder in my mouth and his eyes dilate further before his hips thrust harder and harder, chasing his climax.

I can feel my eyes begin to sting with tears and it takes all my willpower to keep from choking as my mouth sets to work. It's like I have wanted to feel his cock in my mouth my whole life. Something settles inside me when I am on my knees pleasing him. I am at peace.

I tighten my mouth around the end of his cock, then swirl my tongue around the tip. He shudders and I can feel his fingers tighten against my scalp as he fights so hard to keep from going over the edge. I feel my tongue moving almost independently of my will down either side of his shaft and back up again.

His cock stiffens to the point where he is about to erupt, and I am prepared for the moment, when his deep masculine groans of pleasure become feminine giggles and I look up with his cock still in my mouth into familiar green eyes bright with arousal.

"Oh that's right. You suck that cock like a good little whore." Smith's voice and Lucy's face combine to play on my hot buttons and I can feel the hot sticky cum shooting down my throat as my pussy begins to gush with arousal. My body feels like it has been plugged into a wall socket and I fall into the soft grey carpet at my Master's feet gasping for breath and shaking with the aftershocks.

"Good Girl. You're a very good girl, Jess." And I am so beyond tired that I cannot tell who is speaking to me, only that at this moment: My body is no longer mine to control.

***

"Let's look at these figures again, I want to be sure I don't miss anything,'' it comes out as a polite comment, but there's a sense of command in that soft, unyielding tone.

"Err, sure, of course, Mr Johnson, we can go over it again," Neil's tired eyes look once more down at the spreadsheets on his Ipad and his hand goes habitually to his hair, raking through the golden strands like he wants to pull them out. His back is ram-rod straight and his jaw is clenched, and he hasn't once looked over at me for assurance.

Mr Johnson is in the office going over every single little detail of this department until you want to tear your eyeballs out. He may be gentle in his demeanor, but he's a total tyrant in the office if he thinks someone isn't doing their job properly. He has already asked Gloria about the reasons for turning down each and every manuscript until she was begging for mercy, and I am very sure he will eventually turn his attention to me.

But I'm not up to it at all. My head droops on my desk for the third time today as I fight to stay awake.

The last few days have been hell. In between ducking calls from my mum, and fighting the urge to murder Justin in his bed, I am also feeling guilty for not telling Lucy about what happened with Justin. I just don't think it would do either of us any good if she knew. She has enough on her plate, and knowing more than she needs to would only serve to make me miserable too.

My body aches with compassion at the memory of her sobbing, and her long months of solitude following my breakdowns. She needs more than my ex-boyfriend's selfishness right now, and I am determined to make sure nothing destroys her potential new happiness.

I also haven't been sleeping well, given all I hear in my dreams is Smith's gorgeous, sultry voice before he orders me to cum through gritted teeth. The soft chocolate colour of his eyes, compared with the boldness in the shape of his eyebrows, is striking. His plump, kissable lips form such filthy words perfectly, and his finely shaped jaw alongside his ever so slightly out of joint nose is so clear that I could almost believe that he was there with me, with his strong arms wrapped around me.

I can't help but need him desperately. And believe me, I know how crazy that sounds!

Yet my mind is too filled with crazy thoughts to really pay attention to anything. I am fighting tiredness off with all my might as my body begs for rest.

The only thing really keeping me tethered to reality is the clear picture in my mind of those eyes. The eyes that have haunted me for weeks, and I know that all my energy is slowly slowly seeping out of me as the day drags on endlessly.

I tap away at my keyboard industriously, but I can't focus on my work enough to check what I am doing and before I can stop myself, I click out of the word document without saving it.

"Oh, for FUCK'S SAKE! WHY!" I scream at the monitor, suddenly feeling such irrational anger at an inanimate object and I shove the keyboard aside and almost rip the mouse cord out in an attempt to throw it hard against the wall but I instead close my eyes tight.

I count to ten in my head, and as I mark off the numbers, I unclench my fists and jaw, and push my shoulders back down from my ears and rest my head against the headrest. I move the small of my back towards the lumbar support pillow and I plant my feet firmly on the floor.

I must keep a lid on this anger, or I will get into trouble. And I try to keep that in mind as I remind myself that I am at work, where I am not being productive and my managers are on this floor looking at the daily workday of their employees, and the thought of it makes my stomach flip in anxiety and my face flush with shame.

God! What's the matter with me?

My eyes are suddenly wide open and I can see the whole office staring at me. Gloria is looking up from her coffee mug with her jaw dropping to the floor, and all the other editors are just thankful for the silly distraction from their work.

Just as I can feel my face going red, Neil is looking at me from over in the far corner with a look of concern, and the blood drains from my face as Mr Johnson is looking over at me too, mostly with a look of bewilderment. No one speaks for a moment, and their faces are blank, but the wheels are turning in their head and I want so desperately for the ground to swallow me whole. I want to be as far away from here as possible, but my body is frozen to the spot.

"I'm so sorry, I just need to step outside for a moment," I say with a high pitched tone and a nervous laugh.

God! I need to get a grip on myself. I grab my bag and head to the office bathroom, not daring to look anyone in the eye, especially not Gloria.

The eyes follow me, and I really try not to allow the rising panic in my body to show anywhere on my face. I am stiff, awkward and nearly trip in my heels as I negotiate the office space and into the empty stalls.

Luckily, the stalls are empty, and I move into one of them and slide down the door the moment the lock slides into place. I put my head in my hands and really try to stop myself from shaking. I hate losing my shit in front of anyone, and that is probably the first time anyone in the office has ever seen it happen.

Throughout my teens, I had to learn to manage my emotions with my fragile mother. She would suffer a breakup with another boyfriend, or lose a job, or even just have moments where she would miss my Dad so much that it would cripple her emotionally for days. Being her only real companion, my time would be spent stroking her hair as she cried on my shoulder, or listening to her temper tantrums, and it would grate on my nerves, but I would bite my tongue until I felt like I would sever it in two. There was no sense in us both being emotional wrecks.

And so, learning to manage my emotions became a hard learned skill, and any emotion I had, I would save for my pillow late at night, or with close friends.

Anger and frustration, although natural, are never something I display in places like work, or around people in general.

But I feel it rising again, as my phone is still relentlessly buzzing in my bag. I pull it out, and only manage to see the caller ID: Mum.

I want to hurl it against the wall, but instead, I take a deep breath, and switch it off before putting it right at the bottom of my bag. Out of sight, out of mind.

I check my watch and see that I have another two and a half hours before I leave for the day and sigh in despair. I don't know if I can go back to do my work, and really give my all to my daily tasks, but neither can I face going back to the four silent walls of my flat. I want to be out in the open.

I stand up slowly and inhale deeply through my nose and exhale through my mouth. I close my eyes and the tears that prick the back of my eyes slowly dissipate.

That's right, Good Girl. Breathe for me. The sound of my voice always makes you so relaxed.

The familiar sound makes my body sway and tingle with pleasure and my mind is helpless to resist. I hear the wonderful calming tones of that gorgeous voice through my head as I walk out of the stall and towards the mirrors.

I stare at my dazed, flushed face in the mirror and splash some cold water on my face.

"God, what's the matter with you?" I ask myself out loud, "calm down or you'll do something crazy." I lean towards the mirror on shaky arms and push my bottom a little further away as my head droops heavily towards the sink, feeling like I am about to puke my guts out.

The solid firm wall I have kept my emotions behind for years is slowly crumbling, and I can no longer rely on my normal coping methods to make everything alright. I can't just pretend everything's okay now. I try my best to calm my breathing, to stop myself from shaking, and I desperately try to force back the tears but the first single drop falls down my cheek and I can feel the pressure from my teeth against my bottom lip.

I grab a brush from my bag and comb out the untidy knots in my hair, then apply a little pink lipstick and blush to brighten my face up a little. I refuse to cry and appear anything less than completely professional. I breathe in slowly once again and roll my shoulders back to allow the knots in my body to loosen just a little, and the water behind my eyes that was so present just a moment ago has disappeared, leaving my mascara intact.

I grab my bag and hold my head up as I open the door confidently and stride back into the office with my head held high and my heels clicking confidently on the floor. Everyone is back to work, although I can detect the occasional glance in my direction as I make my way back to my desk. The eyes are everywhere despite pretending so hard not to look at me, and one pair in particular is making my stomach flutter with nerves.

His brown furrows with concern as he straightens his tie and moves toward the entrance of the office, and I brace myself for the moment where he takes a swipe at me for being such a crazy, unprofessional employee, but instead I hear:

"Are you alright? Miss, er..." Mr. Johnson pauses for a moment, and I answer him quickly.

"Jessica Ashton," I say, hardly daring to believe he's actually concerned for someone he barely knows.