EroticReverie

Anastasia 

It’s the middle of the night when I wake up. Saint spent all day “making love” to me until he took mercy on me to let me fall asleep, exhausted with a pounding ache between my legs that was currently still there. Alisa never came back to the apartment. I was sure that Saint was responsible, unsure of what he’d said to her but knowing him well enough that I’m sure there was some kind of threat given. 

I push up to go to the bathroom when I realize he’s not in my bed. My brows furrowing with….disappointment. God, I hated myself. I hated HIM, for making me nearly as fucked in the head as he was. Or maybe I always was, and he was just making me realize it. 

I get up and pee, and clean up the dried semen between my legs, cursing him it soft quiet mutters as I do.

I go to the kitchen , drink a small glass of water and then return to bed. Looking at my empty bed and my lips tightening. Why was I so pissed that he left ? I shouldn’t want him here. It wasn’t fair that he just showed up whenever the fuck he wanted to and left just the same. Was it just another way of showing me that HE was in control? That I had no say in anything ?

——one week later—-

No notes. No roses. And a thousand pestering questions from Alisa asking me where he is and when he’ll come over again. I’m not sure if it’s so she can make sure she’s not here or if she wants to be here to see him again. Because she’s made more than several comments about him being “so attractive” “so intense”.  I change the subject everytime. Because admitting I had no idea where the fuck my “boyfriend” was made me feel like an idiot. But I AM an idiot , because I’m truly pissed and truly …worried? What if he disappeared for months again? What if he never came back? I didn’t have a number. Didn’t have a fucking last name. Didn’t even know a damn thing about him other than the fact he was crazy.

I spend extra time in the studio after classes. I shower at the school. Trying to control the ache between my legs as the water sprays over me and I for some reason think of Saint, that first time. Coming into the shower. Taking me against my will. Taking me without my consent. Raping me. Hard. Taking my virginity and slamming his cock so fucking deep inside me that I’ll never forget the pain of it. 

My hand slips down between my legs and I lie to myself as my fingers brush my clit , that I’m not turned on. Who gets turned on by a man sexually assaulting them? Me that’s who. Because my fingers stroke my clit again, and again as I pant under the spray of the showers thinking about him “making love” to me that day. My core begs for him, where is he? It seems to ask as it throbs longingly for him. My walls clenching around a phantom feeling of him inside of me. His big hands grabbing my body and pushing and pulling my cunt back and forth and up and down on his cock. 

My fingers are frantic. Rubbing my clit as my cunt fucking begs for him.  I cum hard. Shame immediately prickling my skin and heating my cheeks as I pant. Legs shaky and breath uneven. 

I shut off the shower, grab my towel and dry off. Getting dressed while I internally curse him for disappearing. For not leaving me notes and roses. I curse myself for even wanting them. I should be happy that he’s leaving me alone. Maybe he got what he wanted out of me and was done. Why do I hate the thought of that?

I stop by the pizza shop that he took me to when he first told me I needed to start eating more. I ignore my reason for coming here instead of any place else as I sit in the seat that I know he sat in that day. Ignoring that I’m here simply because it makes me feel like he’s near. But was he? Has he still been watching me? Does he know where I am right now? What I’ve been doing? I look down at the greasy pizza.  One single bite taken from it. I push my plate away and decide to test my theory. If he was watching. Then I’d make sure to stop behaving like he wants me to. I’d purposely starve myself to drive him out of fucking hiding. 

I don’t eat dinner. I go to bed , another day without a rose or letter. I wake up. Skipping breakfast even though my stomach rumbles. 

I go through my day of classes. I push myself to stay after and practice longer. Then I go home and refuse to eat dinner even as my stomach angrily growls at me to feed it. 

No rose. No note. I lay in bed and listen to the sound of Alisa banging her boyfriend in her bedroom. My body aches for him. Fuck him. 

I pull my covers up and hate that tears fill my eyes as I close them to protest their escape. I shouldn’t miss him. I shouldn’t fucking want him.

I wake up. It’s Saturday morning. And I don’t even notice the note and rose on the window sill till after I’ve taken a shower and gotten dressed.  My heart pounds and I have to actively fight walking over to the window. 

I just stare at the rose and note. My fingers itching to snatch up both. But. He’s watching. I don’t look around my room to try to figure out where the camera is. I’ve given up on that. 

I walk over to my bedside table , and grab my phone. I don’t know where I’m going. But know I want to get out of here. Go somewhere where he can’t fucking watch me. 

I go to the kitchen. Grab a water bottle and fill it, apologizing to my still growling stomach as I forfeit another meal in order to piss him off. I was mad. And now, he knows it. 

—

I spend the morning and early afternoon doing whatever I can to take my mind off of him and my hunger. I feel weak from not eating , so I chug water for the sensation of feeling full. 

When I get home. There’s a second rose. A second note. On my bed. I push them off and let them fall to the floor between my bed and side table and collapse onto the bed. I had no energy. I had plans to get in at least a few hours of ballet practice this afternoon but I fall asleep in my bed. 

In the morning there’s another note. On the pillow beside my head. There’s not one single rose. There’s twelve. Again I have to force myself to deny the urge to grab the note. 

Instead I grab the rose and the note and dump them in the trash just like I used to. Knowing they’ll be back on my bed anyways at some point. 

Sure enough when I come home later that night. I gasp as I open my door. 

Alisa is coming out of her room and stops when I gasp and runs right over to see what has me stopped in my tracks and mouth hanging open. 

“Oh wow” she swoons. 

There’s roses. Fucking. Everywhere. Some loose. Some in giant bouquets. There’s got to be at least thousands. 

“Damn. What did he do? This is quite an apology.” She says and leans down to pick up one of the roses and lifts it to her nose and inhales. 

I snatch the rose from her hand and she blinks. 

“Ummmm okayyyy. Geeeze” she says and tosses her hair and sniffs with her nose in the air. 

“Did he cheat?” She asks. And she sounds all too hopeful for that. 

“No.” I say and shove past her crowding my door way and then kick a space clear of roses and then shut my door in her face. 

“You don’t have to be so rude!” She says and I roll my eyes as I stand there just looking around my room. 

I move the larger bouquets to the sides. Sweeping my foot across the floor to push the loose ones aside as well. God. The scent was strong. My room smelled like a florist shop. 

I clear my bed and then change into sleep clothes. When I draw back the covers my lips tighten. 

A black sheet of paper with gold pen used to write a note I can’t ignore because it’s not in an envelope. And beside it. A fucking dildo. 

“Eat. The gift is since you miss me so much.” The note says. 

I look down at the dildo. A plain flesh colored dildo. That looks all too similar to the one that my body craves. Did he…fucking make a mold of his dick? My teeth grind. Oh. I’m fucking pissed. I snatch it up and throw it across the room. The silicone thwacking against the wall and then plopping to the floor with a heavy this and rolling for a second before it stops. I crumple the note and toss it. And get into bed. 

——-

I can barely stand the next morning. I haven’t eaten in multiple days and I feel it taking a dangerous toll. 

I’m dizzy as I walk through the doors of the academy. Ben is there when I enter the class and frowns. 

“You feeling okay, you look…not well” 

I grumble and he says nothing else. 

Halfway through class I collapse. Fainting. Being crowded by several other ballerinas and our teachers. Ben is beside me and calling my name. I’m lifted up. Told by my teacher to take the rest of the day off. 

Ben tries to talk to me. Asking me if it has to do with me and Saint. That Alisa told him that he cheated on me. God. That fucking bitch. I’d wring her fucking neck. 

“He didn’t cheat. We’re fine and Alisa needs to mine her own fucking business” I say as I lift my bag to my shoulder. It’s not even that heavy but feels like ten thousand pounds on my shoulder. 

“Do you want me to walk you home?” He asks and I shake my head. I hadn’t forgotten yet about his advances on me when I was drunk. Trying to get me to go home with him. Telling me that my boyfriend didn’t have to know. I’d defended him up until that point. Because I thought he was a good guy. But I should know better. Because I clearly only attract sleazes and Saint, a fucking psycho stalker rapist. 

I walk out of the doors and onto the sidewalk. My eyes down and I still feel so dizzy. I’m walking towards the subway entrance steps when I finally look up. Leaning against the rail of the entrance is Saint. Arms crossed. Glaring. I barely have the energy to fucking glare back. But I do. And continue walking and he grabs my arm. 

“Let go of me” I hiss. But he grabs my arm harder. 

“Enough.” He growls. I don’t even have the strength to pull away no matter how much I want to fight him. 

“Youre fucking stubborn.” He says as he pulls me with him across the sidewalk to a cab that’s already waiting with the back door open. 

“Fuck you.” I whine and he gets me into the back of the cab. 

It’s silent the entire ride and he pays the driver and then is helping me out of the cab and I stumble and he growls. 

“Youre going to be punished for being stupid.”

He growls.

I lift my head and glare. 

“Fuck you.” I say and he sucks his teeth. 

We stand there glaring at each other as the cab drives off. 

I yelp as his arms swing and he scoops me up in them like it’s our fucking wedding night. 

I don’t tell him to put me down though. Because I’m so fucking weak and tired. 

“You ever pull this shit again Anastasia and I’ll fucking-“

“What? Kill me?” I hiss as he walks up the steps to my apartment building. 

“See. Stupid.” He says and i give a weak growl. 

“Quit calling me stupid” I say as he opens the door with a key and I grit my teeth. Of course he has his own key. 

“Then quit acting it.” He growls as he carries me to the elevator as I pout. 

“Youre going to eat.” He says and carries me right in my apartment and sits me down at the table as he goes to the kitchen and starts pulling out food. 

“That’s Alisas” I say of the vegetables he starts pulling out. 

“I don’t care.” He says and slams down the clear Tupperware of precut veggies all mixed in together. 

“That’s hers too” I say as he takes out two portions of already cooked chicken. 

“Shut up.” He snarls and I huff. 

“You disappear for a week and think YOU get to be pissed?” I hiss. 

“I said shut up” he growls and keeps moving around the kitchen. 

“No I won’t shut up!” I yell weakly and slap my hand to the table as I go to push up to stand. The top of the Tupperware clattering on the counter as I fall back into my seat too weak to even fucking stand. Saint is right there. Hand on my shoulder to keep me from tipping over and out of the sear and his large hand grabs my jaw and he jerks my head towards his. He’s right in my face. Glowering. 

“Sit. And shut up.” He growls. 

“I hate you” I whimper.

“Yes. I know.” He says and then looks at my mouth. I don’t have to long for it anymore, I don’t have to want it , he pushes his mouth to mine and kisses me. He exhales hard. 

“Don’t you ever do that shit again. Do you understand?” He breathes. His hand trembling on my jaw. His breath shaky. 

“You disappeared. I was angry.” I say. Nearly in tears. 

“I never disappear. I’m always with you. Always watching you.” He says and my brows pinch. 

“I hate it.” I whine. 

“Too bad , I’ll never stop watching you.” He says. 

I shake my head. Maybe my lack of eating was making me even more stupid because I’m whiney and too fucking honest when I open my mouth. 

“No” I whine. “I hate when you disappear” 

He pauses and looks me in the eyes. A small smile on his lips.

“I don’t want roses. I don’t want notes. I want..” I trail off because some fucking sense kicks into me. 

“Tell me Little Ballrina, what do you want?” He asks and his thumb strokes my cheeks as he presses his forehead to mine. 

I shake my head. 

“Me? Do you want me? Hmm?” He asks and nudges my nose and my eyes water.

“You know I do.” My voice cracks and he exhales hard. His warm breath against my mouth. 

“I’m going to cook you some food. I’m going to feed you. Then take you to your bed and eat your pussy.” He says and I whimper. 

“I’m too weak” I whine. 

“Youre going to lay there. You’ll be fine.” He says and I whimper. 

“Now. Be a good little ballerina and sit here till I’m done cooking. Don’t try to stand. Just fucking sit. Okay?” He says and strokes my face and I nod. 

“Good girl” he says and kisses my forehead.