Page 64 of Monarch
“They’re so vocal,” Mother Maria says from somewhere behind Roos. “I love it.”
“I do too,” says Roos, and she holds my stare as she says it.
It’s not just that Roos is topping me that makes this feel different. There’s been more of that. Eye contact. And more words that could have double meaning. Words that are made of hope and the future. In my blissed-out state, I take each one to be a sign. A good sign.
“Oh, God, yes,” I groan at the idea of us having a future.
Every single day since my first night at QISS, I’ve wanted to ask Roos if we could try again. If we could pick things up where we left off, or fuck that, start all over again. After the three times we played together prior to tonight, I’ve rehearsed speeches where I would declare my intentions, my hopes, my dreams for us. I even wrote one of them down. All my thoughts and my feelings. But that letter was ripped out of my notebook and ripped to shreds. All of my speeches have gone unspoken. But maybe tonight… Maybe tonight really is different.
Roos rolls the head of the vibe down over the curve of my breast and over the soft rolls of my stomach. I twitch with anticipation. She has to take pity on me soon. She has to let me come.
“You’re doing so well, Mari.” She leans in closer again to whisper in my ear. “Such a good little plaything for me.”
“Slut,” I spit out as the vibe slides over the flesh covering my pubic bone. Praise is too gentle for me right now. And I don’t want gentle. I want to feel. I want to be pushed, shamed, humiliated. I want pain. “Call me your dirty little slut.”
Roos’ face breaks out into another evil smile. “Oh, yes. I can do that. You dirty whore. You greedy little slut.”
I moan as I close my eyes with pleasure. The words, the degradation, in her accent, are heavenly.
“Open your eyes,” Roos insists. “I need to see what you look like when I tell you something very important.”
“What?” I ask hungrily. Does she have a speech for me? Does she want a future just as much as I do? Has it been enough time?
The vibrator skips over my clit, not stopping, and Roos thrusts it between my legs, grazing my labia, which are almost as sensitive as my clitoris.
“You like being watched, don’t you?” she asks.
“Yes.” I nod. “I really do.”
“You’re such a slut for the attention. You like to turn all these strangers on, don’t you?”
“Fuck, yes, I do. I do.”
“What if I told you they weren’t all strangers?”
“What?” I open my eyes wider and search the crowd.
“Remember your safe word,” Roos says, her playful tone slipping into something more serious. “But I wanted to do this for you. For us.”
“Do what?”
Roos draws in a sharp breath, and her eyes search my face, uncertain, a little afraid. It’s the first crack in her composure all night.
“Do what, Roos?” I repeat.
“Lex is here,” she says.
I open my mouth. Ready to shout, to cry, to safe word out. To make all of this stop. But no words come out.
“I think it’s good that xe is here,” Roos explains, holding my eye contact and still moving the vibe back and forth, back and forth with only the briefest touch to my clit. To the audience, it looks like we’re having an intimate conversation while she fucks me.
“Why?” I ask, incredulous. Why would she want to do this?
“To show xem how strong we are,” she says, her tone all solemn and pure now. “To show xem that we don’t need xem. That we have each other.”
“Do…do we have each other?” I ask.
“If you want me,” Roos says, and finally – finally – she moves the vibe forward and keeps it right there against my swollen clit.
