Title: Five Minutes
AN: This story is intended to be enjoyed as a fantasy by persons over the age of 18—similar actions if undertaken in real life would be deeply unethical and probably illegal. © MoldedMind, 2020.
Kate dug in her purse for her keys as she walked up the stone steps to her townhouse. The porch light came on automatically when she reached the door, illuminating the night surrounding her—worth the investment in every way, she thought—and she spotted her keys shimmering in the bottom of her purse.
She reached in and retrieved them, slipping her house key into the lock and letting herself in.
In the dark, she dropped her purse on the glass table in the front hall. She kicked off her shoes, and then pulled her blouse off. She left it on the hall floor as she began to climb the stairs to the second level of her house.
“Alright, Kate,” she said to herself as she climbed. “It’s do or die time. If you can make it through the next forty-eight hours without calling, talking to, or seeing Alexandra, you’ll be cured. Just got to make it forty-eight hours,” she repeated to herself as she reached the landing and turned toward her bedroom.
Every time she tried to break it off with Alexandra, she was most vulnerable to relapse in the first forty-eight hours—this she knew from experience. The few times she’d managed to stay broken up with her for longer than several weeks had always been because she’d followed the forty-eight hour rule.
“Just forty-eight hours,” she repeated. Thank god her phone was downstairs in her purse, she thought, as she approached her bedroom door. No matter how much her fingers itched to call Alexandra, or text her, her phone was out of reach—she was protected from herself. “Just forty-eight hours,” she repeated, taking the door knob in her hand. She could do this. “Just forty-eight—”
She crossed the threshold into her bedroom, and her words died in her throat.
Lying before her, stretched out and displaying herself in the nude, was Alexandra.
“What are you doing here?” were the first words out of Kate’s mouth. She hadn’t even turned on the overhead light yet—and she wasn’t planning on doing it any time soon. The moonlight coming in through her blinds was already giving her too clear of a picture.
It was bright enough in her room to see Alexandra’s grin—confident, inviting, secure in herself. It was a look that said, I’ve already seduced you—let’s just accept the inevitable, shall we?
“I came to apologize to you,” she husked, shifting on the bed from a lying position to a more upright position—moving so her back was propped up against two of Kate’s pillows, and her head touching the head board. Kate had thought the first position she’d caught her in and had been ideal for maximizing the view of the dildo Alexandra was sporting, but this position beat it. With the pillows pushing her hips forward, it was thrust out at the ideal angle for someone who might want to position themselves on it.
Kate drew her eyes back up to her. She’d been weak to allow herself to look at it for as long as she had. “I told you already, Alexandra, I don’t want your apologies anymore. You apologize every time, but it’s only ever lip service. You apologize, I take you back, and then you get me in trance again, and have your way with me. And then I tell you that I don’t like what you’re doing to my free will, I don’t like how you’re eroding my limits, and we break up, and then you apologize, and it starts all over again. No more. We’re broken up for good this time.”
Kate’s voice was shaky to her own ears… Alexandra had a quality about her she often found difficult to put into words, but she practically dripped sex. Every action she took, every physical movement she made seemed to echo it. She had thought so ever since she met her—it had only become clearer when she’d gained actual images of her during sex to compare against.
Right now, the way she was sitting so still was bringing to mind images of times she had thrust into Kate so slowly… those type of thrusts that were perfectly meant to reduce her to insanity, with long, unbearable pauses between them, and then the sudden, overwhelming satisfaction of being deeply and completely filled…
Kate reminded herself that she needed to get Alexandra out of her bedroom and out of her house.
“Alexandra,” she said again. “Leave.”
Slowly, Alexandra insinuated her way from leaning back against Kate’s headboard and pillows into a kneeling position on her bed—it sparked a jolt of pleasure between Kate’s legs, and simultaneously seized her by the heart.
“Would you really send me away?” She purred, and Kate swallowed hard. Her hands were shaking.
Just keep your eyes on her eyes, she reminded herself helpfully. It was her only hope.
“I’m here at your disposal,” she went on. “You can do anything at all to me… I am totally at your mercy.” She spoke, and then she let the words hang in the air for a minute. Kate found keeping her eyes on hers wasn’t helping at all. They were too open, too wide. She felt caught in them, and powerless to escape. She was starting to think she wouldn’t be able to look down now unless she released her, unless Alexandra spoke her benediction and set her free.
And Alexandra’s offer was a trap, like always. She knew that the second she got Kate in bed, she could get her into trance. Kate’s conditioning was too strong—there were too many years between them, in which Alexandra had blurred the lines between pleasure and trance, and between consciousness and unconsciousness.
“You would really throw this chance to have me away?” Alexandra asked.
“Yes, Alexandra,” Kate said, quietly, and realized it was a mistake too late. The question itself had been a trap. How good it felt to say yes to her… all Alexandra would have to do was change the question, and she’d enjoy saying yes to it all the more… in five minutes she could have Kate screaming ‘yes, Alexandra’ with abandon in time to her movements inside of her, and it would drive the memory of this conversation out of Kate’s head—as well as anything else Alexandra wanted cleared out of there.
She shook her head, as if in disappointment. “Why do you throw away my love? I just want to share it with you… Just express it to you physically. Show you how good it feels when you give in and let yourself take it. Why are you so afraid to accept love from me, Kate?”
The question was too naked, too piercing. It made her feel fragile, about to break.
Stay strong, Kate… Kate tried to encourage herself. I love you, you’ve got this. Who cares if she has abs like a… greek… statue…
She thought that had to be a bad sign—even her conscience was trailing off into a haze of lust.
“I’m not afraid to love you, Alexandra,” she said. “I have loved you…” here, in this room, in your apartment, in a dozen other places… “But I’m asking you to go, to protect myself. You’re chipping away at who I am, and I don’t know what’ll be left of me when you’re finished.” She finished, trying to get her sense of clarity back.
It didn’t come. Everything felt hazy to her. Kate’s bedroom was too small with Alexandra in it, drawing in all her energy. “I can’t allow you to continue behaving this way. To keep... changing me, erasing thoughts and feelings you don’t want me to have. It’s unacceptable. I won’t…let you do it.” She finished, with some effort. Alexandra’s eyes seemed even brighter now in the moonlight, cat-like, a tiger stalking its prey. It felt like her eyes were the only thing in the room.
Alexandra’s smile widened. “Then punish me for it. Show me how bad I’ve been… or do you want me to punish you for hurting my feelings?”
“Hurting your feelings?” She echoed, loosely. She could feel she was already losing or had already lost.
“You know how much I care for you...” Alexandra hummed. “And you know how I want to help you be the best version of yourself. You can say all of those things about not wanting me to hypnotize you, or change you, but part of you wants it very much. Do you know how much it hurts to see you turn your back on yourself this way? How much it hurts when you reject me, and tell me you never want to see me again?”
Alexandra switched her slick grin out for a look of practiced pain Kate was well familiar with. She could recognize the manipulation on her face. It didn’t make the pitiful sadness any less intoxicating. “I tried to call you to help you see reason. To apologize for pushing you farther than your conscious mind was ready to accept. But you won’t listen to my apologies or explanations. Did it ever occur to you how hard that might be on me?” Her voice was so silky, so smooth, an outsider would have missed it. It so perfectly, so deftly lashed Kate with the force of her own self-guilt and self-recriminations. Alexandra knew her too well.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you… I just needed…” Kate couldn’t find the end of her sentence.
Alexandra shook her head, held up a hand. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “You did. Say you’re sorry.”
Kate couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here from ‘get out.’ Alexandra had already twisted her mind through more than one loop, and as always happened when she was speaking to her like this, in her dizzying, intoxicating circles, Kate was losing the thread of the conversation. She often thought recording her would help her keep it straight—or maybe not.
The fact was, she understood what Alexandra was doing to her on a primal level. She was twisting everything she said and did away from the truth, turning it to fit the narrative that served her, and making her forget her own history. It wasn’t new.
Understanding didn’t make her any better at guarding against it.
She only knew that now, if she apologized, she’d be in bed with her in thirty seconds or less. She’d already ceded too much ground. That kind of admission functioned as an unconditional surrender, and Alexandra was very good at taking advantage of those.
“I won’t apologize,” Kate said, trying to steel herself. “I don’t care if I hurt you. I want you to leave.” All of these phrases were ash on her tongue. They tasted like lies when she spoke them, in a way that made her feel grimy.
Alexandra grinned again. She cocked an eyebrow at her. “You feel how untrue each of those statements are, don’t you? You do feel bad that you hurt me—it makes you feel guilty, and angry at yourself, and confused, doesn’t it?”
She shook her head, but it did. All it took was a few choice words from Alexandra, and she could conjure each of those things in her. She was feeling them now: how could I be so careless how could I have broken up with her and said all those things that’s so extreme that’s so harsh it must have hurt her so much how could I be so mean… and on and on.
It had gotten to the point where it just ran through her mind like the news headlines scrolling across the bottom of tv screen. She didn’t even have to pay attention to it.
“All that self-anger feels pretty bad, doesn’t it, Kate?”
Kate nodded, already feeling her resolve crumbling away. It was too late: she’d never be free of her. She was addicted, plain and simple.
“Now, apologize to me for breaking it off again,” she encouraged. “As soon as I forgive you, we can put all these unpleasant feelings behind us.”
The truth was, she was already feeling high on her. It was pushing in from the edges of her awareness, creeping in from all sides around her. And she was already so horny.
“I’m sorry,” Kate said, her voice clipped.
“Sorry for what?” Alexandra pressed, and Kate knew the humiliation wouldn’t be complete until she repeated her phrase exactly. Alexandra was always very precise with her words.
“I’m sorry, Alexandra, for breaking it off with you,” she parroted.
“I forgive you, my love,” she purred, her voice warmly wrapping itself around Kate’s thoughts, and ending the stream of anger and blame. It was like a balm on her soul.
“Will you let me love you now?” She asked, her voice earnest, and Kate could feel her knees shaking now. The struggle to keep standing was too much to bear.
She could already feel the rush of Alexandra’s presence pouring through her veins, the high of being with her. It was like sinking into water, and she could feel it clouding her mind, crowding out her thoughts.
She’d never been one to abuse substances, but in that last moment of clarity, she felt perfectly like a junkie.
She welcomed the twist of self-disgust as her next words formed on her tongue. They underlined the ecstasy, and made it shine that much brighter.
“Yes, Alexandra…” she exhaled, and the words felt just as pleasurable, just as delicious as she’d known they would when she had said them just five minutes before.