Reflecting

He held me in place on my knees, not facing towards him as usual but facing away from him, out into the room.

‘Watch,’ he said, directing my gaze forward.

The hands of the girl on her knees in front of me were behind her head, fingers intertwined; her lips were red with lipstick he had already smeared. I could see the look of desire on her face, even as she found it hard to meet my gaze. This is turning you on, I thought. Isn’t it?

Dirty little thing.

I could practically see her cunt dripping with excitement – and why shouldn’t it? He had been teasing her all day. He had been doing everything he could to make sure that when the moment finally came to play, she would be ready. He had promised her the world in soft kisses and stinging slaps, and she had agreed willingly, knowing there was nowhere she would rather be.

The girl’s body was marked for him, by him: a subtle pinkness on her skin that would blossom into a rich purple given the passage of time. A collar around her neck made it clear that she was owned and wanted, but those bruises were what kept my eye. His love for her was written on her body, a love delivered wordlessly and saved for enjoyment later, if she ever any doubt. She could

‘Don’t you think my little slut is pretty?’ he asked, a low growl in my ear.

I nodded, and I felt his fingers digging into my arm. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Say it.’

‘I think your little slut is pretty.’

He knew how hard that was for me to say, how resistant my body was to admitting that I agreed with him. How much time I spent running away from it, no matter how he pushed the issue.

‘Again, pet.’

‘I think your little slut is pretty.’

‘Again.

‘I think your little slut is pretty.’

‘Look up. Say it properly.’

I lifted my head – I hadn’t even realised I was looking at the floor; it was just easier that way – and the girl raised her gaze to greet mine.

‘I think your little slut is pretty.’

‘Again.’

‘I think your little slut is pretty.’

I could see the girl blushing, unfamiliar with the compliment – especially from me. Oh, he had told her a thousand times. He would never let her forget it, but hearing it from my lips, in my voice? That was something different entirely. That was almost more than she could stand, and he knew it.

‘Again.’

I felt the words catch in my throat, and watched her look away from me. ‘I…’

‘Say it, pet.’ His grip tightened; firm, not painful, keeping me in place.

‘I think your little slut is pretty.’ That satisfied him, and that satisfied me. He leaned forward and kissed me gently on the forehead. ‘Good girl,’ he said, and for the first time I was able to meet the gaze of my reflection proudly, without shame.

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