Is this a nightmare?

The fear became routine, the thing with Mr. Evans became routine, so much so that it now feels completely natural. At work, everything remained relatively professional, apart from the occasional slip of his hand on me. Our colleagues noticed nothing. The initial panic at seeing him constantly turned into habit. Sometimes even relief, but that was almost worse.

I knew it was wrong, that I shouldn't let it happen, but I was weak. Not only because he forced me to and I had no choice, but also because I needed his closeness in a frightening way.

Mr. Evans had been regularly demanding to meet up over the past few weeks. Sometimes for dinner at my place, to watch a movie, but always of course, for sex, whenever he wanted. Each time, I was worried that he would do bad things to me again, hurt me, or simply use me again. But I had no choice to do something about it anyway. It became easier, I probably wasn't getting used to it, but rather I was simply too tired to resist anymore.

But he was actually quite nice to me for the most part. Sometimes it almost seemed like he was taking care of me. He made sure I ate enough, complimented me, and he gave me more time for my work tasks. Sometimes I was even allowed to go home earlier if I did a good job. When he had bad days, the compliments disappeared. I became just his outlet again. He fucked me harder, colder, as if he had to beat something out of himself, and I just let it happen.

On a quiet workday, Mr. Evans approached me from behind and suddenly reached under my skirt. He touched my pussy while whispering in my ear: "This skirt suits you, little one, I like it. But other men like it too, and you don't like them doing that to you. You won't wear skirts like that in public anymore, understand?"

I was briefly startled, as he doesn't do things like that at work, but I quickly realized how wet I became from his touches.

"Mhmm Mr. Evans...I'm sorry, I won't do that again," I said, holding my breath to suppress my groan.

Then he stopped, and I could think more clearly again. At first, I thought he couldn't tell me what to wear! But then I realized he was right, he just wanted to protect me.

I was ashamed that he could now make me so easily horny. And even more so that part of me wanted more.

During my lunch break I spent time with two of my colleagues, we went out to eat together. I usually bring my own food and avoid the cafeteria, but today the company was good for me. For the first time in weeks, everything felt normal for a brief moment. We talked and laughed together.

"You seem much more relaxed today," my colleague Daniel suddenly said with a small smile.

"Do I?" I replied, somewhat irritated.

"Yes. It suits you better than this constant stress, you became more quiet lately."

"Clara, you should come to the cafeteria with us more often, the food here is much better than your sad lunchbox always is," said Alina in a joking tone.

I was surprised that someone noticed something was wrong, but I really shouldn't let on. Still, I was very pleased that they had invited me. I've always felt a bit like an outsider. I'm still quite new and at least 10 years younger than my Colleges.

I was in a good mood for the rest of the day and the work went by quickly, but Mr. Evans seemed somewhat withdrawn. He hadn't texted me in the afternoon either, as usual. I figured he was probably just under a lot of stress. But even on the next workday, he barely acknowledged me, only speaking when absolutely necessary, only about work. That was unusual, I felt a bit sick to my stomach, afraid I had done something wrong. We were supposed to meet tomorrow evening, but he hadn't said anything about it. I could barely calm down, I kept waiting for a message, a touch, or a smile at work, anything to calm this constant tension in me.

It was Friday and Mr. Evans was still so cold. I thought it couldn't possibly be stress anymore, something was wrong. The uncertainty was driving me crazy. I waited anxiously for him to ring the doorbell any minute, he usually came around 7 pm. By now it was 7:30 pm, and I finally got the courage to send him a text and ask if we are even meeting up today.

But then he answered:

"Yes."

Shit… something's really wrong. He never texts so dry. I racked my brain trying to figure out what I did wrong. I was afraid I might lose my job, and I panicked again about him, the monster who'd been so nice these past few weeks.

There it was, the doorbell rang. I swallowed my nervousness and opened the door, trying not to let on. Mr. Evans had a look on his face I couldn't quite read. He came in, gave me his jacket, and hugged me as if he were disgusted by me. We sat down, the homemade pizza was still lukewarm in the oven. The air was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. We ate together and drank some wine, with some almost forced small talk in between.

The uncomfortable silence was almost unbearable, but I didn't dare ask what was wrong. Every now and then he looked at me with a look that almost froze me, and I think by now he could clearly see how uncomfortable I was.

"Do you need anything else? Is there anything I can do for you?" I asked cautiously as we finished eating.

"I saw it, Clara... Is he the reason you were wearing that skirt?" he replied calmly, but with a seething rage inside him.

"W...what? What do you mean, Mr. Evans? I'm really sorry."

"I saw that with Daniel in the cafeteria."

"What do you mean? We were just talking..." I said, confused, my voice trembling.

"Don't lie to me!! I saw you laughing, did you like his attention?!" he said, almost shouting. The dishes clattered as he banged on the table, I jumped and tears started forming in my eyes out of fear.

"No, it was nothing. I'm really sorry, I won't be going out to eat with them again."

"Clara, how can I trust you anymore? You know what's at stake," he said calmly, almost solicitously.

"I'll do anything you want, just please believe me, I didn't mean to hurt you."

Mr. Evans stood up, walked over to me, pulled back my chair, and threw a glass off the table. He grabbed the back of my neck so hard it hurt and stared into my eyes with cold fury.

"You are mine. You need boundaries, I just want to look after you, little one. I will have to teach you how to behave. Its just for your own safety".

I just nodded quickly, tears were running down my face, and this time I wasn't just afraid for my job…

Mr. Evans softened again, as if he had almost frightened himself, and gently wiped the tears from my face. He ordered me to go with him to the bedroom to make it up to him. Without hesitation, I followed him and always did exactly as he told me.

I should lean over my dresser and pull my pants down just a little bit. I saw myself reflected directly in the mirror on the wall in front of me. Mr. Evans was standing behind me, he had started touching my pussy.

Without much foreplay, kissing, or touching, he immediately started inserting his fingers into me. It was almost embarrassing to stand there, my ass exposed in the air, and I had to watch myself in the mirror wincing in pain as he stretched me.

His gaze was cold, it seemed as if he was making every effort not to lose his temper.

He fingered me hard while I started moaning and slowly became wet, which made whole thing more bearable, almost enjoyable. I felt a tingling sensation in my stomach, by now Mr. Evans knew exactly how to make me come, no matter how I felt.

I was just about to reach orgasm, the first drops were already spurting out of me, when Mr. Evans stopped abruptly. 

Everything inside me clenched, desperately trying to come, but all I felt was emptiness and it hurt not to be touched anymore.

I saw Mr. Evans behind me, a smile spreading across his mouth as he watched me struggle to stay standing.

There it was. That smile relieved me, despite the situation I was in.

I wanted nothing more than for him to continue, to maybe save this ruined orgasm.

That he has compassion and saves me.

"No, you don't deserve that... Not yet. I need to see that I can truly trust you first. You will now be quiet, because I will show you what you deserve."

The tone in which he said it gave me goosebumps. He sounded both so angry and as if he enjoyed it. I gripped the dresser tightly and squeezed my eyes shut. The seconds felt endless, I didn't know what to expect. 

But then I felt Mr. Evans slap my ass. His open hand struck me hard, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

A few seconds later, it happened again and again, then once more, switching from the one buttock to the other. The pain silenced every thought I had. I squirmed around in an attempt to cope with the pain and cried out softly with each blow.

My ass was fiery red and glowing hot. He stopped and gently stroked it, but I barely felt it anymore. In a way, I was glad that he was so jealous, it means that I’m important to him. 

I opened my eyes again and saw Mr. Evans briefly leave the room. He returned with something long and ordered me to undress completely. 

At first, I couldn't identify it, but when he swung it through the air, I knew it was a riding crop. The mere sound of it whizzing through the air made me sweat.

"If you're honest with me, this doesn't have to happen. Trust me, I just want to protect you," he whispered slowly in my ear and kissed me on the cheek.

"I...I'm sorry...please don't. I trust you now, I promise Mr. Evans," I stammered, hoping he would have mercy on me.

He gently stroked my entire body with the tip of the whip, drew it between my legs, and caught the drop that gathered at my pussy. I was completely tense, with every movement of his I flinched and felt as if I could already feel the hit.

With a powerful swing, the riding crop struck my back. I jumped up out of reflex and began to whimper. Mr. Evans pushed my chest back down onto the dresser and held me firmly so he could continue whipping my ass. 

Each blow left red, swollen welts, and I simply began to cry. The pain was almost unbearable, hot, stabbing, and it lingered for some time afterward. I felt helpless, like im locked in a small box, filled only with the Sensation of my body. 

At first I tried to defend myself, begged him to stop, but then something changed inside me. I felt like I had failed and I realized my mistake in talking to Daniel. I began to accept the pain, and in a way it calmed my feelings of guilt, as I knew I deserved it.

My face was smeared with tears and my whole body burned, but inside I felt still. It gave me back the closeness and validation I needed from him.

Mr. Evans covered my body with red welts until he saw me soften and collapse. He had achieved his goal to show me who I belonged to. He stopped, and I just sank to my knees and sobbed. 

He sat down on the ground behind me and held me tightly in his arms.

"Everything is okay. You did well, little one, you needed that," he said gently and stroked me.

When I had calmed down again, Mr. Evans picked me up and put me in my bed.

I snuggled close to him, he was so warm, and strangely enough, I felt so safe.

"Thank you, Mr. Evans," I whispered softly.

He looked at me in surprise and smiled slightly. My head felt so empty and I felt so small.

I looked at him for a long time before I kissed him. We made out, and I could feel him getting harder as he rubbed against me. I was so glad he wasn't angry anymore and that everything was okay again.

The remnants of my earlier ruined orgasm were still lingering inside me, and my pussy was practically begging for sex, there was already a wet patch on the blanket beneath me. I started touching his cock and unzipped his jeans. He quickly undressed, and my tongue began to tease the tip. Using plenty of spit, I started giving him a blowjob, occasionally taking his cock as deep into my throat as I could.

His breathing got faster, and he began touching my pussy at the same time, stroking my clit. I was so sensitive that his light touches were almost too much. But I couldn't stand it any longer.

"Mr. Evans….U..hm could you maybe please fuck me? I need to cum so badly," I stuttered, I felt really embarrassed to even say things like that, but I had no choice.

Without answering, he quickly pushed me onto my back, placing my legs on one of his shoulders. With a hard thrust, he entered me, and I moaned loudly with pleasure and relief.

He stretches me so well, every time we have sex I think his cock is made for me. The rhythm quickened and it wasn't long before I felt close to orgasm. We looked into each other's eyes, all my muscles tensed. He leaned towards me and kissed me. In that position, he hit such fantastic spots, I was on the edge.

"Cum!" he whispered calmly in my ear, his cock hammering hard into me.

He just watched as my whole body started to tremble, I held my breath and my eyes rolled back. The orgasm hit me hard, with a loud moan I squirted. He pulled his cock out of me and rubbed it quickly back and forth against my clit, with each movement spreading the squirt that was splashing out of me all over us.

He lay down next to me and hugged me from behind. He kissed my neck. I was still completely out of breath, we were both sweaty and hot. Mr. Evans cock remained motionless inside me while we savored the stillness of our kiss. He slowly began to thrust into me again, with long, slow strokes.

I felt his cock twitch slightly until he came inside me with a soft groan. I felt his warm cum spurt inside me and his twitching

penis slowly soften again.

He held me in his arms for a while longer, his juices running down my leg, and it was quiet. 

It was almost an uncomfortable silence. No one knew what to say. I think we were both shocked by the intimacy. It almost seemed as if Mr. Evans was ashamed of showing his soft side, of letting things escalate like that. He was worried that Clara would lose respect for him after seeing him so weak and passionate.

The welts burned, were purple, and swollen. Mr. Evans stroked them while he stared blankly into space. With every movement, the pain reminded me of what had happened. Nevertheless, I snuggled closer to him.

"James...I like lying in your arms," I whispered.

It just came out of me, I've never called him by his first name before, I didn't even think about it. It's actually strange to say that to him. As if I'd forgotten how it all began.

My words caused him to hold his breath, and even his stroking stopped. He remained silent.

"You... have to work tomorrow, right?"

After a few minutes of silence, I had to break it. I already knew the answer, but I didn’t know what to say.

"Yes," he said.

Then it was quiet again.

Eventually he got up and got dressed again.

"Are you leaving?" I asked him.

He glanced briefly at me, but avoided eye contact.

"You should go to sleep, Clara."

"Mhmm…"

But that was all, he walked out the door without another word.

The next morning I woke up far too early. The side of the bed next to me was empty and cold. The morning sun blinded me, and in that light I saw the welts properly for the first time.

I wasn't sure whether I felt ashamed or even proud that I endured it for him. That I have a trophy that shows how strong I can be and how vulnerable at the same time. Yet a part of me was shocked, maybe even disgusted and thought how sick it was to do things like that. 

I was rather tired all day, but I couldn't stop thinking about how Mr. Evans held me. I felt so light and wanted somehow. The weekend dragged on, I stayed home the whole time. I kept checking my phone, hoping for a

message from him. But there was nothing.

On Sunday evening, a subtle nervousness and doubt crept in. I wondered if he regretted the night, because this time it was different, it was something special.

I saw in the mirror how the marks slowly became colorful, like a rainbow. There were so many of them, spread across most of my back, buttocks, and legs. Despite the warm weather, I had to wear long pants to work to hide them. No one must see them.

I was somewhat happy to see him again, but I was also nervous about what things would be like now. Had anything changed?

I spent the morning in my office, making the usual small talk with my colleague and trying to concentrate on my tasks, but really I was just waiting for him. But he didn't come. During my lunch break I became impatient and knocked on his office door, and after a yes, I opened it.

"He…", I said with shining eyes, but he interrupted me.

"Is it something important, Clara? Can it wait? I'm very busy right now," he said, glancing up at me only briefly.

"Oh, never mind. I'm sorry for the interruption, Mr. Evans."

I quickly left the office again. My eyes glazed over and I felt so embarrassed. I sat down in the break room and tried to eat my "sad bread," as my colleagues call it.

Why does this rejection hurt so much? This has happened so often before. But actually, all I needed was his closeness.

The door opened, it was Mr. Evans. And there we were again, alone. In the break room.

"Enjoy your meal," he said briefly and began to make himself a coffee.

I just grinned at him, took off my jacket, which I was wearing over a tight top, revealing the bruises he gave me and continued eating.

He was standing a few meters behind me, but I could feel him staring at me. I waited for him to come around as usual and say or do some naughty things, like he normally does at work when nobody is around.

But he left again. Panic quietly began to creep back into me. I wondered what I had done wrong. All day I just suppressed the tears, hoping to go home, or even more so, hoping that he would be back and hold me.

"Are you okay, Clara?" my colleague asked a bit concerned.

"Yes, just an allergy today. But it's kind of you to ask."

I couldn't hold it any longer. I ran to the bathroom, locked the door, and the tears just flowed uncontrollably. I was ashamed of myself for making such a big deal out of it. I tried to rationalize things, to explain. I knew he was probably just too busy, but my anxieties were too overwhelming. At that moment, I didn't understand how dependent I had become on his approval.

When someone came in, I held my breath, hoping that no one would see me in this miserable state.

"Clara, is that you in there? Is everything alright?"

“Mr. Evans?” I replied in a tearful voice.

"I've been looking for you for 20 minutes, I was worried. Come out, Clara."

I unlocked the door and came to him, I simply fell into his arms and my tears left small stains on his shirt.

"You wanted something from me earlier, now I'm here for you, what happened, sweety?"

He stroked my hair, I sighed deeply, his touch almost completely extinguished my doubts.

"I...I thought you were angry with me again."

"Oh sweetie, you were just imagining it, everything's fine. You know what? I'm coming back to see you today. I know what you need right now."

I looked at him, and my gaze was answer enough for him. 

"We have a meeting with the others in a bit. Wipe away your tears and bring me a coffee so you have some time to calm down. See you soon."

My thoughts calmed down again, I felt a bit ridiculous, and brought him his coffee. Our eyes met occasionally during the boring conversation about numbers, spreadsheets, and further planning. I didn't even realize that I was neglecting the work I actually love so much. I agreed with him even though I really had something else to say. He turned me into his sweet little puppy, blindly following him around.

I had created a romantic atmosphere, lit candles and put on music, I have to make him proud today.

The doorbell rang again, and I opened the door. There was no hello, no hug. He gently

pushed me back a few steps by the chest.

"Kneel down" he said firmly.

He approached me from behind, placed something around my neck, and tightened it. It was a wide leather collar. I was surprised and had to get used to the feeling.

"I told you I'd take care of you today. I’ll show you something that will feel good for you, that helps you calm down. This collar means that you are under my control now and forbids you from speaking without permission"

My breathing quickened and the collar made it heavier. I was nervous, but I nodded. I promised myself I would listen, because I was afraid of being punished again. I was about to stand up again, but he pushed me back down to my knees.

"And to you, I'll still be Mr. Evans and not James, understand?"

He pulled me up by the collar, and I stumbled after him into the bedroom. I felt a little scared, but strangely enough, that kinda turned me on. When I briefly caught a glimpse of my reflection with the collar on, a wave of shame washed over me. This feels so silly now. 

But as soon as Mr. Evans placed his hand on my neck and kissed me, the thought vanished instantly.

"Stay right there, I have something for you," he said, and briefly fetched a bag from the hallway. He took out a blindfold and put it on me. With a gentle slap on the shoulders, he corrected my posture. It was strange not being able to see anything anymore, now I was completely dependent on him.

I felt something scratchy wrap around my hands, he tied them behind my back with many knots, all the way up to my

upper arms. This made me stand bolt upright, chest out, unable to move my arms at all. It felt so tight, a little uncomfortable.

Mr. Evans spun me around a few times until he suddenly pushed me forward.

I screamed as my body fell helplessly forward. My instinct was to break my fall, but my hands were tied. My heart felt like it was going to stop. Then I landed softly on the mattress. I lay motionless for a moment, completely disoriented, my whole body still trembling from the shock.

Then I heard his soft laughter behind me.

"See, you can trust me, don't be afraid."

I tried to shake off the shock with a nervous laugh.

"You…"

"Ah ah ah, what did I say, don't talk!" he interrupted me.

He moved me to the middle of the bed and also secured my legs to the frame. From then on, there was truly no turning back for me. I couldn't see, move, or speak. I was forced to surrender to him. Yet somehow it relieved me not to have to make any more decisions, not to have to perform, just to be present.

Next, I felt him gently stroke me with his fingers, I got goosebumps. A few seconds later, he took an ice cube and slowly pulled it from my back down to my feet, it melted on my hot skin, leaving a wet trail. I flinched, tried to escape the icy cold, but there was no chance.

He alternated between the ice cube and hot wax dripping down on me from a candle. It hurt, the hot wax that almost burned my skin and the ice that almost numbed me. Sometimes the two sensations blurred together, my body was confused about which signals to send me.

Every now and then he would stroke me again, pull my hair, or kiss me. I felt wanted.

Everything felt so much more intense through the blindfold. I only had to focus on what I felt. Every stimulus felt like it

was directly hitting my most sensitive nerves.

I felt so peaceful and my mind was blank.

But then I suddenly felt him insert his fingers into me, and a numbing pain spread deep inside me. I only realized it was an ice cube when the ice-cold water ran out of me.

That was the end of the peace and quiet. I held my breath and clenched my teeth to be able to bear it.

"Breathe, little one. Just breathe the pain away, it makes it easier," he said, stroking my cheek.

After a few deep breaths, I stopped wriggling my ass in pain. He said nothing, didn't touch me, just watched until the ice

cube melted completely after a few minutes, leaving me lying in a pool of cold water.

"Good girl, look how strong you are."

With these words, I felt his hand on my clit. His fingers felt hot, as if they were burning me, yet at the same time so good that it wasn't long before I could no longer hold back my moans. He rubbed faster and faster, I found it hard to breathe. My face was half buried in the pillow and my chest pressed deep into the mattress, so that my bottom was sticking up a little in the air.

I started to tremble. Fuck, that felt good. He slapped my clit lightly a few times and then rubbed harder than before. My whole body was overwhelmed by all the sensations to which I was completely subjected. But it overwhelmed me in such a good, deep way that it gave me an intense orgasm. My moans stopped as I came, I had forgotten to breathe, it was so good.

Suddenly I was struck by two sharp blows from the riding crop, which made me breathe again and I groaned.

But Mr. Evans wasn't finished with me yet. No sooner had my orgasm ended than he lifted my hips higher and inserted two fingers inside me. He pulled them out and immediately inserted three more, while continuing to rub my clit. After a few seconds of pleasuring me like this, he spat on my pussy.

"Now show me what a good girl you are and what you can take, show me what a slut you can be for me."

Then he took his whole hand and slowly put it inside me, stretching me so that every finger fit in until he was inside me almost up to his wrist. I was glad I'd had the ice cube beforehand, it numbed the pain somewhat, but it also made me feel the contrast to his hot fist. My pussy was fuller than ever, and that hurt in a nice way. 

He started twisting his hand inside me. The silent screams turned into deep moans that burst from me.

He paused briefly to use the riding crop, but his other hand remained inside me and was now fucking me faster. My whole body burned, I was flooded with adrenaline. Panic, pain, but also pleasure and intimacy melted

together.

Everything around me disappeared and became silent. It was all too much and yet nothing at the same time, as if I were helplessly trapped in a trance.

After a few hard, slow thrusts with his fist, he suddenly pulled it out.

Mr. Evans did nothing at all, he didn't touch me, he just watched as I lost control of my body.

I screamed into the pillow with pleasure as everything inside me contracted and exploded with a liberating sensation.

My pussy gaped open and squirted hard. I came without any touching, I only felt the orgasm tearing me apart from the inside, my cum gushed out of me. I pushed against the restraints with all my strength while my whole body trembled and tears already rolling down my face.

I lay motionless, breathing as if I had run a marathon, and I heard a soft laugh.

"That's exactly what you needed. Just stay lying down, I'm here for you." His voice sounded far away, even though he was

sitting right next to me.

My body was throbbing, my muscles heavy and tired. I was shocked by my condition and ashamed that he saw me like this. Tears streamed down my face as I grinned slightly. I was astonished that these terrible and wonderful feelings I had experienced had left me with such satisfaction.

Mr. Evans touched me as if checking what was left of me. He carefully untied the bonds, and the fear returned, but my

body remained lying down as if it had forgotten how to move. I felt as if I was slowly waking up from something that left me feeling empty. 

He rolled me onto my side, cooled and cared for the partially bloody welts. He washed off the wax with a washcloth, revealing the minor burns, little red dots everywhere. He removed the collar, and I could finally take a deep breath. 

With these wounds, he marked his ownership, showing me where I belonged. And the worst part was, he was right, he kinda had helped me today. My thoughts and feelings were gone.

Mr. Evans stroked my exhausted body, and it wasn't long before I fell asleep. He disappeared quietly and secretly, without him, the room was empty. By now, I was barely anything without him, either.

I had learned that his violence was his way of showing me affection. That his control was what made me feel safe. That I needed his permission to be myself, or at least what he had made me into.

It felt as if his violence was his way of showing me affection. Pain and control became something that calmed me down again.

Subconsciously I knew it wasn't right, I panicked. But my body interpreted it differently. The lines between good and bad became too blurred, and I stopped trusting my instincts.

Perhaps it was a nightmare.

No, it was a nightmare, but not one I wanted to wake up from.