Page 27 of Payback
While a rhetorical question, I opted to answer regardless, “I had intended to exploit you, Alison. You were meant solely for my amusement. I presumed I could elicit embarrassment by subjecting you to things you hate. But hatred is an easy emotion to feel. Despising a touch can evoke repulsion and anger, yet it won’t evoke that profound mortification that comes with yearning for something you inherently shouldn’t. Hatred comes too easily, yet yielding to forbidden desires mirrors an addict's plea for 'just one more time’. However, they always land in a stranger's bed, drowning in humiliation, as their own weakness dawns upon them. The ease with which they succumb to the seductive abyss of addiction fits our dynamic, Alison. You crave the pleasure I can provide, yet you’re filled with shame because you never fathomed a scenario where you’d desire me. The thought of us being intimate likely never entered your thoughts. That’s why my plans have evolved.”
“It’s merely a... chemical reaction in the brain,” she whispered, her voice void of conviction.
“Consider this: had you never discovered my true identity, and I hadn’t come to ‘collect’, wouldn’t you have fantasized about me fucking you on your desk?” I challenged.
“Absolutely not!” she retorted, her head lifting as she shot me an intense glare. “I’m married!”
“Quite loyal to someone who doesn’t reciprocate the sentiment, aren’t you? It seems image is everything to you,” I remarked.
“He promised to change,” she asserted.
“But your regular testing speaks of your doubts. You can’t trust his loyalty, can you? And witnessing how far you’re willing to go for him brings me a peculiar satisfaction,” I confessed with a sinister edge.
“It will change,” she repeated with conviction.
“Oh? Is he attending a rehabilitation center for sex addicts?” I taunted.
“Once we have...” She halted mid-sentence, though I had a clear sense of her implication. Yet, Alison was deceiving herself. Watching her go to such lengths to maintain a façade only fueled my satisfaction. If that wasn’t the epitome of pathetic, I didn’t know what was.
“A child?” I added.
She heaved a sigh, leaning her head back.
“It doesn’t matter...”
“After your extensive efforts to conceive, it’s almost laughable to think it might happen,” I chuckled, knowing the impact of those words would wound her deeply. Predictably, she squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to conceal her yearning, yet biology seemed to conspire against her. However, I knew an even more effective method of wounding her, so I extended my hand and placed it on her stomach.
“Or what if I succeeded?” I posed.
She raised her head, her expression morphing into shock.
“What if I impregnated you and sent you back carrying my child?” I continued.
The shock turned to unadulterated fear, her head shaking involuntarily.
“No...”
“We both know that despite your resentment toward the one who might father your child, your desperation to be a mother might override that feeling,” I pointed out.
“Well, it’s fortunate you mentioned the unlikelihood of me conceiving,” she growled, attempting to ignore the fear that I could see flickering in her eyes—fear of the possibility of me succeeding in impregnating her.
“Sometimes that’s all it takes—new genes,” I taunted.
“You’d never want me to bear your child.”
“You’re correct. I don’t desire that. However, knowing that I’ve disrupted your world by fathering your child, now, that’s worthwhile.”
“That’s sick! You don’t play with a child’s life!” she spat.
“Why not? You did that to me. Worse, even. I wouldn’t subject the child to torture. You’d simply have to live with the fact that it’s mine. You’d forever be linked to me through that child. Wouldn’t that be intriguing, Alison?”
I could perceive the depths of horror she felt at the thought of being forever tied to me through a child. Anger replaced the fear, and she attempted to squirm away, likely aiming for a kick. Amused, I caught her thigh and shifted her slightly, delivering a hard spank to her ass.
“Ah!” she protested, attempting to maneuver herself around again.
My hand maintained a firm hold on her thigh, keeping her legs immobilized.
“You’re under my control for a month, Alison. Technically, that leaves the possibility open,” I remarked, noting the icy fear returning to her eyes.
