1. Other Colors -- Ch.16


    Date: 12/23/2014, Categories: BDSM, Author: mascodagama, Rating: 3, Source: LushStories

    crossed my arms. If my vulnerability was erotic to him, then I suppose what I was about to give him was akin to a psychological blowjob. It was going to be uncomfortable for me. A bit humiliating. And only one of us was likely to enjoy it. “When I was really little,” I breathed softly, and let my eyes lose focus, “like, four or five, I guess… I liked to sleep in his flannels while he was away.” I chewed my lip, remembering, “I’d steal them from the bottom drawer of his dresser. I had to roll up the legs, or I’d fall over. And I always got the sleeves wet when I brushed my teeth.” The muscles around my mouth tried to smile, but I stopped them, “My Mom must’ve told him at some point. He started giving me a set of my own before he left,” I paused, “it was kind of our thing, I guess. We didn’t have a lot of ‘things’.” Dmitri’s eyes were impassive, “...He was away often?” “Months, sometimes,” I shrugged, “He was a trauma surgeon. Still is, I suppose… And he was still in the Reserves back then.” It was some time before he spoken next. He gazed at me, skeptical and contemplative, as if I’d just materialized out of thin air. Be rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Do you hate your Father, Penny?” I could feel a few warm beads of water gather in my eyes, and I wiped them away. They weren’t tears. I refused to grant them that status. To me, nostalgia didn’t need to be anything more than a noxious vapor. It could burn the eyes, and close the throat—but it didn’t need to mean something. I ...
    handled his words like ammonium smelling salts. I breathed them in, let them sting me, and breathed them right back out again. “I don’t,” my head shook slowly. “I...just hate talking about him.” My shoulder tingled, “I hate what he reminds me of.” That was the honest-to-God truth. And it was the most he was going to wring from me. I think perhaps he knew that I was finished. He didn’t press me any further; just lowered his head, and rubbed his eyes roughly with one hand. “Tabarnac.” I heard him curse beneath his breath. I shifted, still misty, and unsure of how I’d upset him. “I really ought to have said something earlier,” he looked up. “There was an issue at work today. I won’t bore you with the details,” he stepped closer, rounding the edge of the desk, “but I’m needed out of town for a couple of days. I fly out tomorrow morning.” Qu'est-ce que vous avez dit ? My jaw clamped. I felt, simultaneously, as if the floor had fallen out underneath me, and he’d slipped an icicle between my second and third rib. No … I glared. He’s lying to you. He just said that to fuck with your head. I started to tremble a little. There’s no way he’d make you tell him that, and then turn right around, and leave you. My breathed seethed in my throat. He’s not that cruel… I scowled at him, and half-sniffled, half-snarled, “You’re screwing with me.” “I wish I were. However,” he set his hands lightly on my waist. “I think you should come with me, Penny.” I shook my head. I still didn’t really believe ...
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