MEERA
The following Monday, I found myself sketching on my MacBook in my office. Friday felt like a century ago but also like a couple of minutes ago. That's how much I could still feel him on me, and in me. It was irrational that I was stupid enough to lose my senses and sleep with him without a condom, but it was even more ridiculous that I couldn't get him out of my mind.
He was there when I closed my eyes, and he was there when I opened them. He was everywhere, and for the past two days, my desire has been growing so much that it is becoming hard to ignore. Touching myself was something I used to do once in a while, like once every two months, but now, I've touched myself twice in two days.
One in the bathroom when my head was filled with the memories of how he took me against the bathroom wall, and the other in my room when I woke up from a dream of him chasing me around a compound, then finally catching me and fucking me like a wild animal on the floor. I even had to use my low-efficiency dildo when touching myself didn't make me cum.
It was intense and overwhelming. And even now in my office, I had to slightly rub my thighs together to soothe the ache between them. If this was how it was going to be, then I might have to get a better dildo since sleeping with another man was out of the question.
I now lowkey regretted not taking him up on his offer.
Someone knocked on my door and I asked them in. It was Didi, one of my attendants, holding a package.
"This came in for you."
"Really?" I was surprised because I hadn't ordered anything and was expecting nothing from anyone.
Could it be Christian? Did he send something to make me feel better? My heart raced and my excitement grew as I opened the package. He knows I love chocolate and cookies, so he must have sent some to cheer me up. Was there hope afterall? Was he…
A yelp left my mouth as soon as I opened the package, and I bolted up in shock.
"What is it? Are you okay, Meera?" Didi stopped just before she opened the door and started walking back towards my table. I covered it and forced a smile at her.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little bit shocked. You can go." I dismissed her and rushed to lock the door securely. I walked back to my table and opened the package gingerly, like it was a ticking time bomb going to detonate any minute now.
But it was just a dildo. A long, curvy, and thick golden dildo. It reminded me of a dick I saw just two nights ago, and the thought of it was enough to make my mouth water. I didn't know anyone who'd send this kind of gift. I wasn't even in a relationship with anyone to warrant this type of gift. And there was no note with it. Not even a return address.
The tone of the delivery and even the package reeked of possessiveness, and it reminded me of just one person. The stranger from Friday night. He was sure we'd see each other again, but how could he have possibly found me? I made sure his driver dropped me far away from my office and home, and I was sure I didn't carry any complementary card to the club so that he wouldn't have found any, even by mistake.
I stared at the dildo, surprisingly not annoyed by it. I was definitely going to trash it, but not at work, in case anybody goes through the trash can. I'll trash it at home.
I casually asked Didi with faux nonchalance how the package was delivered, and he said it came from a logistics company. I took it home and dumped it inside my drawer, intending to trash it the next morning.
I woke up the next morning to the sound of the doorbell, and I paddled barefoot to the door where a delivery guy was waiting for me.
"No, I'm sure you have the wrong address," I insisted until he showed me my full name and address.
My heart picked up, and shivers ran down my spine. He knows my full name, my full address, and even my office address. I should be scared. This was a cause for alarm and bordered on stalking me, but I wasn't scared. I couldn't deny the rush of excitement I felt. I couldn't deny the thrill. It was primal and dark.
I took it and opened it once I locked my door, and inside was a pair of black silk bonds. I gasped, heat surging through me as I examined the silk bonds. A vivid image flashed through my mind, and it was one where he bound my hands to the headboard while he took me over and over again till I was nothing but a boneless mess.
I took the silk of bonds and threw them inside the drawer with the dildo. I'll throw them all away later.
The next day, another package, a black blindfold, was delivered to my office.
Another one was delivered to my house the day after. It was a black whip. Staring at it made me snap—not in anger but in the frustration of the need that had been building up since our night together. I returned to my room, threw the whip in my drawer, and my eyes lingered on all the gifts. They were now four.
I stared at the dildo longer than necessary, and I didn't know when I picked it up or when I went back to my bed. It made me cum in less than 90 seconds.
The day after that, another item was delivered to my office: five mouthball gags.
Then clamps.
Then spreader bars, electric wands, chokers, and clamps. Sometimes, the gifts would come multiple times in a day, and even my staff started whispering who the new man was and that he was romantic enough to send gifts to me every day.
I didn't know when I started looking forward to the gifts, and on the 7th day, I was eager to hear one of the attendants walk in with another box in hand, but nothing happened. All day, my eyes remained on my door, and my ears strained to hear a knock, but none came. I couldn't believe how bad I felt that a gift didn't come in. I should be glad that I wasn't being stalked again, but the loss I felt was so palpable that I felt the bitter taste in my mouth.
It wasn't until towards the close of the business hour that I walked out of my office to the store where clothes of various types, from gowns to tops to lingerie to pants, and all. It was on a Friday, and I always close up on Friday evenings, so most of my staff had already left. I told the last two that they could go when ready, and I walked to the only customer in the store.
A man in a black suit is on the lingerie row. I've always found it cute and romantic when men shop for lingerie for their women. It's too bad I might never experience what that felt like.
I remembered that the stranger had sent me a pair of lingerie too, and I fleetingly wondered if he shopped for them physically or if it was a random online order.
I walked closer to the man, smiling persuadingly and ready to make suggestions based on the size of the lady he was shopping for. When I saw who he was, my smile died on my lips.
Shivers broke down my spine, and my heart pounded faster. Out of excitement? Fear?
"This would look good on you, don't you think?" he held up a pair of pink lingerie. A pair that could be worn as both pants and a bra.
"What are you…" He moved closer without a care in the world and pressed the lingerie against my body. He stepped back a little to assess how it looked on me with his finger still pressing the strap of the underwear to the shoulder. Despite being clothed, my skin burned where he touched me.
"It will look good," he affirmed, "Now I can't wait to tear it off you and fuck you to make up for all the long days."
Heat pooled in my core so much that my pussy gushed. I slapped his hand off me with so much force.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
His reply was a low smirk, and his eyes dipped lower to check out my exposed cleavage, the swell of my boobs, and my gown that stopped above my knees.
"And how the hell did you find me?"
"Do you like your gifts, Meera?"
I was about to ask him how he knew my name, but it would have been futile and stupid. Of course, he knows my name. He knows everything about me—my home address, my office address, my name, and all.
"I couldn't file a restraining order against you because I didn't know who you were, but now that you're here, I should call the security and have them hold you till…"
"Were you thinking about filing a restraining order against me when you used the dildo I sent to fuck yourself?"
What the hell? Goosebumps, the bad kind, broke out on my skin, but he wasn't even done.
"Were you thinking about filing a restraining order against me when my dildo made you cum so hard you made a mess all over your bed?"
"How do you know that?
He shrugged casually, like this was the most random thing in the world, "How do you think?"
My mind was still scrambling to string words together when my eyes landed on the massive TV in the store. It was just a brief mistaken glance, but what was showing on screen made me return to it.
It was a picture of the club I went to seven nights ago. One that started the genesis of what I now share with this stranger.
And the club wasn't on the news for a good thing. It was on the news for a very terrible thing. A murder happened there seven nights ago. The same night I was there.
My body shuddered at the fact that I was there when it happened. That I was in that kind of proximity with a gruesome crime like that.
I looked at the stranger, and he looked at the screen with a calm disinterest that shouldn't be directed towards something like this.
I looked back at the screen where the journalist was announcing that the victim of the crime was a serial rapist who had managed to evade the law for over five years and had even gone so far as to record his victims and blackmail them with the videos to get to sexually assault them over and over again.
It was sickening, and he deserved to be murdered the way he was murdered, or even worse.
The TV changed to the picture of a blurred man exiting the bathroom where the rapist was murdered, and the camera zoomed in enough to show his wristwatch and a slight reddish stain on the sleeve of his white shirt. It was announced that they were looking for the man in the picture because he was the only suspect, and I considered it ridiculous that they were looking for a man who did the world that kind of favor until I took a closer look at the wristwatch.
I knew the wristwatch. It was a unique one, one that I've never seen before until a week ago. I looked back at the stranger who was still looking at the screen, and my eyes dropped to his wrist.
He was wearing a different wristwatch today, but I knew what I saw.
Last week in the bar, he wore the wristwatch that was now showing on the TV. And the stain from last week that I wondered what it was, was actually a blood stain from a murder he committed.
A murder he committed the same night I followed him to his house and allowed him to slut me out like that was the only thing I was good for.
I covered my mouth to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape and when I raised head, he was looking at me with the corner of his lips curved into a a dark and twisted predatory smile.
I staggered back.