Why I Hate my Roommate Ch. 04

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Dear Stefan,

I don't have to tell you you left me shaking, and I will admit it, confused. I am too frightened by the suddenness of the events to really understand my feelings, but I know this – I do want more. I want to continue, you already know I do. But I will need help. Please, you have to be patient. This is all new to me, foreign in more than one way. I am lost, but I am willing to be lead, by you.

Stefan... what's written above is how I want to be. At least today it is, with the scent of you still all over me. But it's not how I am. I'm full of pride and selfishness and I'm haughty, things I don't believe you could possibly like. Parts of me bridle, I want to call you names, I want you to apologize for blowing my pretty little world to bits. We're not from the same world. And in my world I'm used to knowing what happens and how it will turn out. How can I ever, possibly be what you want? I look at Sy and I know she's something like what you look for, and I hate her so much for it. What I'm saying is you would have to show me how this works, every step of the way. Are you that patient? Am I? I honestly don't know. I'd have laughed yesterday off if you hadn't made me come like an animal, and (I burn in shame even writing this) you made me want to please you. I felt incompetent, stupid, nothing but a pretty fool for you to come all over because I don't know how to please you or anyone.

When I woke up (and I missed two classes and am behind on my paper now) I was glad you were gone. No, that's a lie. I wanted to be glad you were gone. When I realized I had email from you, my heart soared. I hate it when my heart does that because my heart is too small to go bouncing around outside the careful cage I built for it. It's so odd – I thought Sy was a child, a scared little baby, crawling into the shadow of a man for comfort. Now I know she's anything but scared, she's brave. And I am the one that's not brave.

I feel like I'm throwing myself off a cliff and simply hoping you'll be there when I get to the bottom. Having you gone when I woke doesn't make that easy. I literally don't know what to ask for, what I'm allowed to ask for, but I know I need this: if you want this to work you have to be there for me. I may be ignorant and proud but I know this requires trust. How can I possibly trust you?

So very, very unsure of everything, and trying to be brave,

Your beautiful Clarissa.

I added my phone number, closed my eyes, and hit Send before Sy showed up again.

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The knock at the door at noon the next day was unexpected. Sy, Andrei and I looked at each other, and then Sy got up and opened the door.

He was an older gentleman in a suit, maybe late fifties. He blinked at Sy, in that polite way that most older men did when facing Sy's cleavage. "I am looking for a Miss Clarissa ------. Are you her?"

Sy shook her head, but remained in the doorway until I said something. I stood. "That's me, can I help you?"

"Quite the other way around, Miss Clarissa. I've been engaged to provide tutoring and research support in Social Policy for the next three days. Forgive me for not calling first but my employer insisted I try to surprise you with an unannounced visit. Very irregular I know."

"Who – I – well I am certainly surprised," I said, utterly confused. "But come in. May I ask your name?"

"Dr. Daniel Weavers, miss. Not a name you'll recognize, but I worked in the U.S. Social Services Administration Office of Policy under the last administration, so" he gave a quirky smile "I think you'll find me qualified as a guide to policy analysis."

I just stared at him. Sy quickly fetched him a brownie. He smiled, nibbled it, and raised an eyebrow. "This is very good. Someone here is a wizard with Belgian chocolate, I can tell..."

"I'm... I'm sorry." I said. "I'm an undergraduate and I promise you I'm not at all at a level where someone of your experience... besides... Doctor... Doctor Weavers, I can't possibly afford the sort of hourly rate a man like you must be able to command." I still wasn't getting it.

That got a bigger smile. "Dear child, I've never worked for an hourly rate in my life. And I'm not now. I wasn't told you couldn't be privy to the arrangements, so I will tell you that my nephew has been interested for some time in applying some theoretical social policy he developed to poorer nations, and quite suddenly yesterday he was contacted and offered a one year position with the Romanian government. The only condition was that he arranged to provide tutoring to you as quickly as possible, Miss Clarissa. He asked me if I knew anyone suitable with a bit of free time, and of course I do. I'm very interested in furthering his career..."

I looked at Sy, who was quietly smiling, and Andrei, who was openly grinning. I blushed scarlet. "I... see. Can I offer you another brownie, Doctor?"

"I wouldn't mind if you did," he said, eyes twinkling with amusement.

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Fifteen minutes later he was pouring over my notes. "Is this how they are presenting it these days? I can tell you, Miss Clarissa, that this is not at all how it went down. I was present when the policy in question was devised. Let me give you some background on the theory of poverty management that we applied..."

Sy murmured to Andrei, in English for my benefit. "Well, it certainly upstages you climbing a cliff on our second date, doesn't it."

"He is such a show-off," Andrei grumbled.

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Sweet Stefan...

And I thought sex with you made me breathless. I have no words for the surprise tutor you arranged. Not only was I able to knock my paper into shape in one day, but I've been given a password to an internal government research website that I don't think any of the professors here ever had. Thank you. Thank you so much. No, thank you more than that. You've made me feel giggly and girlish and I take back every bad thought I ever had about you.

And... you win. After a gesture like that I can't be haughty. Or even frightened. Or if I am it's in a different way. Now I only want to know what you have in store for me. Somehow I thought submission would all be what you forced me to do, and that it would be a terrible burden somehow. But now I begin to see that I can want demands made on me. I want to know what you want. You made me so happy that now it feels right to want you happy too. Are you trying to make me unselfish by being generous? It could work.

Sy tells me that good Romanian girls do not ask for sex, it is something that happens to them, and that that is why Andrei makes her crawl when she wants something. But I am not a good Romanian girl. I'm American. And I want sex with you again. I want to feel the sting of your hand in my hair, I want to feel my body bent by your strength. I want to feel you force your cock against my mouth and know that if I don't please you I can be made to learn how. I remember what it was like, leaning back against a wall, naked, knowing I'd be touched, and then taken whenever you liked. Stefan, because of you my imagination has been turned into a dark and hungry place. Please come and force me to live some of my fantasies – and all of yours. I still can't promise to be a submissive because I have no idea what that means... but I want to feel what it's like to rock myself under you, half afraid, utterly aroused, feeling you pierce into me over and over. I know submission is so much more than sex, but sex is a start, isn't it? Come and torment me until all I can think, breathe and do is wrap myself around your brutal cock. Touching myself and fantasizing used to be enough for me. No more. And you did this.

Your stunned, appreciative, shamefully wet, slippery and infatuated playmate,

Clarissa.

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Sweet, hot Clarissa:

You definitely do not write like a Romanian girl would. I should spank you for being so greedy, for trying to demand I come and amuse you with my cock. It is called topping from the bottom... but I will tell you something. What you wrote has me so hot I can't think. I have been wrapped up in meetings over this recent acquisition, but tonight we will try out the pleasures of online sex. They are not much compared to the real thing – but I must come, and I want to hear you say words like that as I do. We are eight hours apart, so I will be on skype at noon your time.

There are rules to this. You must be pretty and made up and naked, and you must start by kneeling, head down, eyes closed. I recommend headphones because I don't think Sy should hear the dark desires I'm going to describe to you.

It is time to begin to discipline you into being a good submissive. You can no longer have orgasms without my permission. You must maintain your weight for me and add some tone to your abdomen and legs – don't be offended, you are very fuckable, my sweet hot Clarissa, but you will need the muscle strength for our next visit. And that is not so far off as you might fear. Now that you want to please me, I will give you many opportunities. Maybe more than you can handle. We will see what you are made of.

Your attentive, demanding, corrupting influence,

Stefan

"Sy!"

She dashed in. "Are you ok?!"

"No! He wants me online in an hour. I have to be pretty – shit!" My little makeup case went flying.

She gave a little mocking smile. "And you want me to help, after you gave me such grief when I needed you to help pretty me up?"

"Don't throw me in my own face! I have to be pretty! Shower. I need a shower, and then my hair-"

"Classy, Classy. I'm glad you find this exciting, what is word, thrilling... but you aren't fifteen. Calm. Focus. He likes your shape, he likes your face, even without makeup. You won't displease him. Slow down."

I stared in the mirror. "Is that a blackhead? Those brownies! Oh no!"

She sighed. "You aren't fourteen, either. It's microscopic, okay? Take a hot shower, dab on makeup, and stop worrying."

"My hair – why was I born with this hair-"

"And now you sound thirteen. Listen to yourself. Stefan calls you beautiful, Andrei calls you cute, and you think you have bad hair. Get in that shower now, right now. Hot, not scalding, ten minutes. I'm going to have to teach you my makeup tricks, I can see that."

"Tricks?" I called through the bathroom door. "I've seen you dab on makeup. You spend about thirty seconds on it. My best friend in high school was this gorgeous Asian thing and she spent an hour a day on her face. Foundation, bronzer, two kinds of shading, eye shadow, some kind of finishing powder. She knew tricks."

"I didn't have any of that growing up. And do you know what skin tastes like with all that? Andrei is fond of nibbling my neck and lips. I want him to taste me, not something any other girl could taste like. So I will spend thirty seconds on you, too, and you will thank me for the rest of your life." She stuck her head in. "I want to see steam rising, babe. You should come out a tiny bit pink. Don't do this all the time, just before a skype visit, and you'll have to cream up right after the shower. Now the one thing we will be a little generous with is lip cream. Romanian women tend to be quite modest but wet sexy lips are popular there. I think Stefan is fond of oral sex? Make sure he sees your tongue occasionally, lingering just for a moment, and get good at gentle lower lip biting when he's watching. How does he want you dressed?"

"He... doesn't."

"Ah, a purist. One less thing to worry about."

"I'd give anything for clothing!"

"He will always have you naked in the end. It's such a powerful thing – him, clothed, elegant, calm and you, naked, offered up, trembling. Eh, I have to stop thinking about this, Andrei has me on a sex diet today. Try to come quietly or I will be jealous."

"He'll make me come?"

"If I had to guess you're going to be very sexual with him for a while. And then suddenly he'll deny you. Maybe for days. I mean I'm basing this on Andrei so I don't know for sure, but I don't know any guy who doesn't like his girl to be desperate and eager. And you will be, trust me."

"I think I'm pink enough."

"Ok. I left your robe in there."

I patted and scrubbed and avoided the full length mirror because I didn't want to know what those four or five brownies had done to me. The brownies were his fault because – because – because he was male. Yes.

"I'm shaking," I said as I came out. "Did you have to tell me he was rich? That doesn't help. I'll lose him and I'll spend the rest of my life thinking, two hundred million dollars and a nine inch cock and I got it wrong."

"I didn't need to know that little detail."

"'Little.'"

"Ha ha. Good, the blackhead is washed away. Now watch." She daubed, lightly and quickly. "Now look."

"I... that's good. It's like I'm not wearing any but the eyes look larger. That's... cool."

"Now for the final preparations." She got out the lip gloss and got to work. "And advice. You kneel on your robe, all folded up, when the time comes because you are not used to kneeling and it isn't as easy as it looks. Two... do you have a rule against masturbating?"

"Um... against coming." I blushed.

"Perfect. You spend a few minutes kneeling in front of the laptop, waiting for him, thinking about his hands, his mouth, his cock and his voice... and masturbate lightly while you do. Right until he calls."

I just sat there, and then nodded, wordlessly.

"Good girl."

"Sy..."

"Yes?"

"First, thank you. For all this. I would never have ever... and second, I'm scared again. No. I'm... he..."

"It's called awe," she said, gently. "You are beginning to believe that a man can be worthy of devotion, of submission. And if he is good for you, adoration is coming. It was a shock even for me, I can't begin to imagine what it is doing to you. Revel in it. That Nin quote... richness and darkness. They are starting to pour in on you, like a waterfall. Let it happen. Be bound by him. Be disciplined. Be submitted. And when it is time, love and be loved. There's nothing else like it in this world. Off with you, now, you have pretty hair to brush."

I nodded again, abruptly out of words again, and she slipped out of my room.

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I took off the robe, folded it, and put it under my knees. My laptop was on a low table in front of me, and Sy's Bluetooth earpiece was perched shyly, hiding in my hair. The earpiece smelled faintly of perfume; Sy apparently wore some for her online dates with Andrei. I thought that was interesting since it could only be for her benefit, not his. If I dared try to psychoanalyze – and that was her major, not mine – it either meant she was desperate to cover over any flaw, even ones he could not possibly know about; or she was so immersed in his presence that she could make believe he was actually there.

I doubted it would be that immersive an experience for me. I'd felt his hands and mouth and it had been overwhelming. Now he'd have only his eyes and voice. Not that I really thought that would make him more manageable, but I might stay a little saner.

I looked down at myself, naked and kneeling for a guy who wasn't going to be online for ten more minutes. Sane. I'd known what that meant, once. Ages ago, like last week.

In the romances I liked to read, the hapless but sexy heroine was fond of wailing "I don't know how this happened to me!" I couldn't claim that. I could recall every moment, vividly, starting from finding Sy drunk, to the current moment. There had been forks in the path and each and every time I'd chosen the way that led deeper into the woods. Where the Big Bad Wolf lived. I'd turned off my brain and walked to his hotel room, for fuck's sake. Literally. I'd asked for this, not even knowing him. In how many ways had I been secretly longing for this, so secretly that I hadn't even told myself?

I'd written Stefan and made him horny. I was guessing that that was not exactly hard with him, but the fact is that I'd done it very deliberately. I was not being hit over the head and dragged off to the Cave of Sex. I was a willing dance partner.

Willing and eager. I was what my mom had begged me never to be. Sorry, mom. When the wolf howls and the moon rises, the rules change, I guess.

I slid my hands lightly over my thighs. The hot shower followed by the cream left me very soft. That was Sy's fault. She knew I'd be made to touch myself and she'd arranged it so the skin I touched would be pleasant. It was impossible not to think about his hands touching me, and suddenly I was back at the moment when Andrei had touched me using Sy's hands. Now I understood why that had not seemed unusual to Sy. Stefan was going to touch me with my own hands.

I stroked my stomach, thighs, and then, very gently, the base of my breasts. My eyes closed, slowly, on their own. I was an offering, a thing given. If I'd been sitting on the chair behind me it would have been different, but I was kneeling. I brushed my fingertips over my nipples, because I wanted them hard when he saw me. I used to be embarrassed to be seen with hard nipples. That was gone.

I pinched them gently and the heat swept through me. Soften your skin, pretty your lips, and kneel to a man and arousal claimed you, hard. Addictive, Sy had called it. She should have warned me. Brownies were addictive. This was more like I'd imagined being possessed was like. Stefan was a demon and he had me now, and he'd released a demon of my own I'd kept hidden inside me. She was licking her lips and opening her legs. Except they were my lips and legs. My inner demon was a total tramp.

My hand slid quickly between my legs, and I stroked. By the time Stefan got here I'd be aching for his cock. And all I'd get was his hands, kind of. Skype was the worst idea in the world, it just made you need physical presence more. I'd beg him to visit me again. I'd plead...

I took a deep breath. No. I wouldn't do that. There had to be something of Clarissa left somewhere, and she would never beg. I would... ask, nicely. Yes. Come to tea, dear Stefan.

And that triggered a fantasy of Stefan and I as Victorian gentleman and lady, and him suddenly throwing me over a footstool and taking me from behind, tearing my finery off and leaving me shaking and naked... I dragged my hands away from my clit before I started fingering myself, helplessly.

Kneeling and waiting was such a hot, dark erotic thing, I realized. Waiting for a man to come and claim your naked little body...

Seven more minutes to noon. I'd started this too soon. I'd assumed I needed a few minutes to warm up, so to speak... apparently I'd never need that again. I stroked my body, quickly, urgently, cupping myself to the camera, sliding my hands over my hips and thighs, gently biting my lower lip, arching, widening my eyes. "Take me, Stefan," I whispered, softly and wickedly. "Take me ruthlessly, brutally. I know what your body does to mine. I know the way I burned to touch you when I lay next to you in bed. My heart has doubts but my body doesn't have any left at all. I will tell you a secret, Stefan. Shatter me with that big cock over and over, make me please you, take control of my sexuality, enslave me through my own feelings, make me beg for my own pleasure, be ruthlessly male, and my heart be yours. All of me, yours-"

I stopped dead. Where had that come from? Fucking hell if anyone ever heard me say that I'd die about ten thousand deaths. Seriously, was I insane? Too many romance novels, Clarissa! Hell, even they weren't that bad! At least the heroine put up a fight!

I'd play hard to get. I had to! I was a woman and women had to do that. I'd put up some sort of wall, something to show that I wasn't committed, I could still find other guys; I had plenty of options, because guys looked at me all the time, they'd started looking even more just recently, all I had to do was play it a little cool and get him to come to me, emotiona-