Love In The Trenches - Sex Stories

Love In The Trenches

... especially when she was pushing me over the edge the way she liked to do. It was fear. Yet she had always found a way to bend me to her purpose. I had always ended up doing exactly as she’d wanted me to, overcoming my initial reluctance and doubts. ‘More than afraid to lose control, you’re afraid that someone might not like you. You’re afraid of rejection.’ ‘I’ve had nothing but rejection in my life.’ ‘No. You’ve sought out rejection all your life.’ ‘It’s not like it’s a matter of choice. Rejection is all around. It finds you without you having to look for it.’ ‘You’re just more sensitive to it. You see rejection behind every corner. You go out of your way to please people so they don’t reject you.’ ‘They reject me anyway.’ ‘That’s because you insist on pleasing the wrong people.’ ‘How’s that?’ ‘You seek out people who can’t be pleased.’ She had a point there and I knew it. ‘I have always wondered why I do that.’ ‘Because you’re a masochist.’ ‘I am not!’ ‘Of course you are. You love to suffer.’ ‘I don’t. I hate it.’ ‘You get off on it. The mere idea of being used gives you a hard-on. That’s exactly what attracts you to me. I am selfish and I use you. I use you in every way possible, in ways you have no imagination for. And you don’t even need my gratitude.’ She paused to see if I was listening. ‘I am mean to you but you forget the moment I call on you to satisfy a whim. I am cool and distant after using you and you still come back the next day, eager to please me. No matter ...

... what I use you for, you always accede to being used. I even abuse of you, physically and emotionally, and you’ve never said no.’ Yesterday’s scene in the bathroom was fresh in my memory. She had abused of me all right, and I had let her despite the grossness of the act. ‘I guess you’re right.’ ‘Of course I’m right. I’m always right.’ There was no glee. She was serious. I had an impulse to lecture her on the subjectivity of truth, but repressed it. We sat in silence for a while. A couple walked by, tightly embraced and laughing. A question popped in my mind. ‘Where are we going with this?’ Susan turned to me with a quizzed look on her face. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You and I. What are we? Friends? Lovers?’ I paused. ‘A couple?’ ‘Hmm. I don’t know. I haven’t made up my mind about that. You’re a new book and I’ve hardly written the first page. It all depends, I guess.’ ‘On what? On me?’ ‘No. You’re not a factor. I’ve taken care of you.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I own you. I don’t need to deal with you because I control you. You’re mine. I just don’t know what to do with you yet, now that I have you.’ There was an arrogance to her statement that pissed me off. ‘You don’t own me. I am a free person, I make my own decisions.’ ‘Not anymore. Not since I got inside you and messed you up. You’re mine now, and you’ll do everything I want you to do.’ ‘That’s what you want me to believe. I can walk away any time I choose to.’ ‘Of course you can. But you won’t.’ ‘What makes you so sure?’ ‘Go ahead. ...