HIS CURVY OBSESSION

Post climax

ELEANOR POV

I can't walk. If that was f*****g, then I’ve never been f****d. Here is the absolute, painful truth: Until you get f****d by a man that f***s like war, don't think you've been f****d.

If I wasn't the only one scheduled for the shift, I wouldn't be at work. It has been four days of me working day and night. In a literal day and night. I have no idea what Banks is high on, but he doesn't get tired, and he is always, always hard.

And now, I can't sit properly, and I'm supposed to go to him again tonight.

"Are you sure you're fine?" a friendly, regular client ask as he checked out.

"Yes, sir. Just menstrual pain," I say, offering a tight smile. It isn't entirely a lie; the pain is in the same general area.

This is just inflicted by a billionaire, not biology.

I'm close to kneeling. I can't even stand without a sharp, throbbing reminder of last night. Even this morning, he didn't let me go. He didn't sleep with me, but he stopped me from leaving the red room.

"I’ll finish work by four a.m.," that's what he had said, which I found out was code for,

"I’ll be f*****g you afterwards"

"I wish chemists could find a permanent cure for it," my client offered sympathetically.

"My daughter visits the hospital sometimes," I mumbled, trying to be polite. I might actually need to visit the hospital myself, considering this pain. But there's a sweetness to the pain. Like each move I make reminds me of him whipping me. Of him clamping my nipples..

Of him.....

ELEANOR!

I gulp. Fuck

"I'm sorry to hear that about her," I say and he laugh. "Don't be. She gets treated like a queen." He say, dropping a twenty-dollar bill onto the counter.

"Get a drink or some chocolate."

I can hug him. A twenty-dollar tip for doing nothing? Banks had already deposited the first installment, but there's something about this hard, physical twenty dollars that felt nice.

Earning money is hard and he just considered me worthy of his hard labour

"Thank you very much, sir." I clasped my hands in gratitude and he head out, chuckling

I see my reflection on the register screen and chill rush through me, my cunt throb.

Images of the mirror last night comes flooding back.

He had made me lick his c*m off the mirror while he f****d me.

He released on my face and some of it had remained on my lips- smeared and white. Then he turned me to face the mirror, and smeared the my c*m face against the cool glass.

"Be a dirty w***e and lick it off." He had said in a deep, hot and hungry voice.

I clench my thighs as the memory burns real again

The sheer brutality of those words. The intensity of that f*****g.

"Shameless man" I whisper when my phone ping

"Who knows me?" I ponder reaching for it.

It can't be Banks. It shouldn't be but it is.

And my lips curved up at his name before I could stop them.

Banks: Why did you get PEP?

I freeze. PEP. Post-Exposure Prophylaxis.

My blood turn cold. How the f**k did he know?

Me: Are you stalking me?

Banks:Answer.

Me:You cannot do that. You paid for my body, not my privacy.

As I send it, I realize how stupid that sounded. Technically, he owned my private parts. Parts, plural.

Banks:Why.

Banks:Did.

Banks:You.

Banks:Get.

Banks:PEP.

I roll my eyes at his texts.

Me:You f****d me without a condom. I cannot risk getting HIV.

Banks:typing… appears, then stops. Appears again.

I had been overwhelmed with him. He had used condoms our first day together, but ever since, he didn't. He had f****d me raw. Came inside me multiple times.

I have plans for my life, so the moment I left, I visited a 24/7 pharmacy, explained the situation, and was given the PEP regimen and morning-after pills.

Banks: I’m clean. The text appear

Banks:So are you. He adds.

I look around the empty shop. Stalking is an understatement. This is surveillance.

Me:Did you slip a chip in me?

Not like that's possible but I need to know how he knew what I did.

No answer.