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He didn't know where Jeff was. No call. Clearly, something was going on but I had no idea what.I heard nothing on Wednesday. It was like he had disappeared from the face of the earth. For a very brief moment I considered calling the FBI until I realized how completely ridiculous that would be.The ache of not knowing where he was, of just not being with him, was overwhelming. Was this the price of love or infatuation or whatever it was? I wasn't sure I was willing to pay it.On the other hand, how do I avoid paying it? How do I stop feeling the need to be with him? How do I give up the excitement of anticipating that I'm going to be with him?The steps I had taken to get into this situation had been voluntary, but now that I was here, it didn't seem voluntary at all. We weren't exactly at the point where I could say I had a life with him, but the thought of a life without him was too painful to contemplate.Finals would be starting next week and I had no more classes. The best thing I. This was a whole new life. I was no longer the receptionist stuck in a dead-end job with no boyfriend and a tiny apartment, who hated herself, her life, and was self-destructive because of it. I was cunt, or slave, or fucktoy, or whatever else he wanted to call me, whose only purpose was to serve him, and anyone else he wanted me to, to be fucked and hurt and humiliated. He had saved me and for that, I was his. Completely his, in fact. Despite the many people who assumed I was a slut (and who could blame them, here I was in a short, low-cut, skin-tight red dress with no underwear and stripper heels) I was a virgin. I had sucked cock, but I had never swallowed cum or been touched with anything other than a single drunken hand below the waist. Today, that would change. I walked forward to where he stood and he straightened up. Hello cunt, he smirked. He leant forward and I wondered for a gorgeous moment if he was going to kiss me. He didnt. His hand emerged from below me and I looked.
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