At His Mercy

18

when he touches me like that I know that I must still be in love with him. he is the same person that wanted to make me believe in him and us. But then there are moments like now when I look at him and cannot reconcile myself with this stranger before me.
'Strip' he says as I come into the room after an evening with Ami-ji's friends, some of whom organised the fund raising event.
I think she's enjoying having me around,apparently Zara is not into this type of event which means either Ami ji doesn't go or if she does it's usually on her own. I'm feeling optimistic since our outing -till I come into my bedroom to change and see what is lying on the dressing table. It's the cuffs from the jewellery shop in liberty. The stuff I sold. Here it is again. It's Adam's way of telling me he's in control. The Adam from this morning is gone.
He's sitting in bed with his laptop on his legs, wearing pj bottoms , his chest bare. He barely looks up at me. I turn slowly towards the bed, trying to process his change in demeanour. Is he trying to humiliate me? I'm not sure. Steadily I walk towards him.
'Strip' he repeats. He closes the laptop, puts it down on the side table.
I'm tired but I look him directly in the eyes. The challenge there makes me still immediately.
It's like the goal posts are changing again.
Carefully I undress, not breaking eye contact. He's lounging against the pillows there, smirking. Enjoying every moment of it. I refuse to register any discomfort. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm.
Then I'm stood in my underwear. His eyes don't move. I expect them to roam over me but they are fixed. Inch by inch I lower my lace panties to the floor and then straighten to remove my bra.
I stand taller, determined not to cower under his gaze. I want him to smile or laugh to break the tension but he doesn't. His face is all shadows and harsh angles. Cold, detached, eyes like aggregated diamonds.
He gets up and walks towards me with measured steps. I can feel my jaw tense as I grit my teeth, forcing myself to remains as passive as possible. As he passes me he gives me a dark cold look, which makes me shudder inside. Outside I remain statuesque, shoulders back. my hair is up in a knot on my head exposing my neck.

I can feel the anger burning inside me, I'm going to make him pay for this. I swear it. He thinks he's all clever and powerful but he'll be on his knees soon. The thought makes me feel better and I suddenly find my resolve firming up quicker. I am instantly calmer. I close my eyes to centre myself It's all a game! I tell myself. He's playing games with you, pushing your buttons. Don't let him get you all flustered and riled.

I hope he can conduct some of the hate radiating off me. It is the searing kind that can strip paint off walls, but as Adam comes round I notice his eyes are as unrelenting as my own. we glare at each other. A few inches apart. Face to face, passive expressions- but fire in our eyes. I can't look away, won't. but he's not interested in making me submit quickly, that would be too easy. A little voice in my head tells me I'm playing right into his hands. He's going to enjoy breaking me.

I feel the cold metal of the cuff as it clicks around my wrists and resist the urge to look down at my hands. He looks amused enjoying my nonchalance no doubt, which ofcourse I'm feigning because inside I'm seething.

His smile is acerbic, acrimonious even, I feel like he's mocking me and I want so badly to slap his face, wipe that smug nascasisstic smile right off it. He cares only for himself and now he's about to make that clear to me.

'kneel' he says firmly.

Slowly, I go down to my knees in front of him. Looking straight ahead. I want to flinch when I feel his hands in my hair, but he pulls out the pin and it unfurls in thick curls around my shoulders. A single strand of hair falls down the front of my chest, across my nipple. I try not to respond because I know exactly what he's going to do before even he does.

I steel my face, focus on the wall ahead of me as he comes round to admire his work. Then, still watching me, he traces a finger around the curve of my breast and moves the hair, grazing my nipple in the most excruciatingly gentle way. Instantly it peaks in response and I shut my eyes, mortified and furious with myself.

Everything about this situation is frustrating. He smells so good, but I want to glare at him, he feels so amazing but I want to slap him, he looks so sexy when he's serious and yet I want to call him every rude name under the sun. My body is treacherous.

'open your eyes' he says more forcibly, his voice cutting like chipped ice. I do but very slowly- looking ahead, trying my best to ignore him.

I can see the grove of his adonis belt and inwardly groan

6 years ago. .
'inguinal ligament, internal obliques and. . . . transverses abdominus (TVA)' he reels off - 'I could show you mine if you like' and then leans in flirtatiously. I roll my eyes and turn away to someone on my left

'Adam would like to show you his abdominal v!' I say mockingly.

'Not them- you!' he says loud enough for the whole group to hear and there are a few 'get a room' cries and sniggers and a couple of fist pump. I sigh and look at him 'stop playing the rascal!' I say and turn the pages on our text books, blushing furiously.
.

Now here I am staring straight at them and they are beautiful. I want to run my fingers over them and . . . .

I feel his fingers on my chin lifting it up towards him. His eyes are hooded against the light and he has a dark look on his face that speaks of a man who has a wining hand and knows it.