Breaking purity: The wolf // Michael Langdon

Snowmen

Day 9 morning

You have slept so little time that the anxiety you've accumulated within your days locked up in the bedroom has knotted in every muscle of your body. He is awake, listening to you grumbling till you open your eyes.

- Good morning.
- It's certainly a good morning for you, Michael, but not for me –you move to your side and hiss.
- What's the matter?
- I already told you last night. I feel stuck, my mind is completely out of focus and my back is all fucking strained. What... what are you doing? Wait! – he is taking you in his arms, getting you out of bed.
- I am making it better. I'm tired of that grumpy face – he sits you down on the floor and you look at him surprised by the rush. He leaves the room but comes back minutes later with the bucket and leans down in front of you – Arms up – he commands and you obey reluctantly but as soon as he takes off your nightgown and the sponge touches your collar bone, you close your eyes to sigh. He continues with your torso and your legs and when he goes to your sex, it's the first time you look at him directly in his iris, like you are having an eye fight with that demure face. He smiles and then goes behind you. The sponge slides slowly down your back and you can feel all your sore knots at the sides of your spine but you don't complain not wanting to stand his proud of thinking he can really make it better. But he reaches a point down your scapula that causes you to hiss again. Fuck. He hears you and leaves the sponge aside.
- Where does it hurt? – he starts inspecting centimeter by centimeter of your shoulder blade with the pressure of his fingers.

- Nowhere. It doesn't matter. Just forget about... ahh! – he hits the right spot where the solid knot is placed.
- Yeah, there it is – he circles the knot with light strength at first to warm it but then he applies more pressure as his other hand starts massaging the other side of your back – Relax, I can tell you're holding your breath in – he says when you start to squirm in discomfort and you let the air out to inhale deep. As soon as you do it, the tension is alleviated and your body starts to feel grateful for being at the will of his touch, shivering underneath it. He is going down with the tip of his thumbs, your lips part open to gasp as your torso balances lightly back and forward every time his fingers leave one specific place of your skin to get another one. As he arrives at your sacrum, your gasps intensify mixed with some kitten whimpers, feeling his mouth close to your nape. He squeezes your hips and you hiss as a magnificent shudder makes your body convulse in electricity, a loud moan escaping from you as you lose balance and lean backwards. His mouth is the first thing you find support in as its flesh brushes your neck and stops your movement with the help of his arms – I want you to stretch this afternoon. Slow and deep – you jaw trembles and you turn around to watch him. He is sit down too, just in his boxers with the pale skin of his torso glistening. You nod with your head and he stands up to get dressed. He takes the cape from the wardrobe but realizes that one of the clips is loosen.
- I can stitch it for you – you hurry to say – So at least I can have something to entertain myself.
He smiles and traces his fingers along the drawer that's under the one which contains the books. It opens for the first time and you try to spy what's inside but he doesn't let you because he closes it as soon as he takes a needle and a black thread reel.
- Thank you – he gives you both items and gets a new suit. When he is all dressed up, he winkles at you and picks up the tray with the bowls, the bucket and your nightgown, then opens the door to leave – Oh, I was forgetting – he says and smiles, turning to look at you – If I find out you touch yourself again without permission, I'll play with your little pussy till it's so sensitive that you aren't able to close your legs for a week, are we understood?

How the fuck did he know? Was it because of the bite marks I made to myself? You touch your arms with your fingers and instantly remember his teeth in your neck. Your hand goes to it and does little massages on your cervical spine as the area is not only contracted but a bit swollen because of the bites he's done to your skin; even though you try to feel disgusted at the discomfort, the heat in your belly betrays you, but his latest warning resounds clear in your mind so you change your focus and start stretching. The tip of your fingers touch your toes as your head slides down relaxed and you hear that nice crack sound that repeats itself every time you flex and extend one of your arms or legs.
The stretching doesn't alleviate the stuck feeling caused by your stay in the bedroom but at least you feel more in tune with your mind and body, although it can be counterproductive. After you finish a can of peas, you sit on the bed and start working with the cape. Maybe he can read my mind. Yeah, I'm sure of that, otherwise I can't explain it. You thread the needle and it easily goes through the fabric. Or maybe I'm projecting something in the way I look at him.
The clip is now perfectly attached to the cape and you put the needle aside. Such a style. You smile and take the garment with curiosity and warmth to smell it. His scent feels like the cold air of the night that blows moving the top of the trees, making branches crunch and leafs swirl, and it goes directly to your core, trapping you in that scenario. But you have to stay focused, so you leave the cape on the bed too and stand up to move around. Your bare feet walk in large steps along every side of the room and soon you feel the need to do some sprints. Despite the reduced space, the burnt energy suits really well to your mind, calming the primitive sexual urges it tries to bury.