To Hell & Back

I opened my eyes to the feeling of someone gently grabbing hold of me while I was lying on my stomach. I could feel soft, silken sheets on my bare skin as I let myself be turned around onto my back. It took me a moment to realize I was in a new memory, and when I heard Sasha mumble something under her breath, I realized what was about to happen.

I was in bed with Sasha. This was only months before the present day. She had just demanded a new level of intimacy, pressuring me to bare it all for her. After a tense discussion, I did strip, but I demanded concessions of my own. In exchange for slowing down, respecting my boundaries, and just generally pressuring me less, I would let her in more, both physically and emotionally.

My face suddenly got extremely red, both in the memory and not. Sasha paused, trying to decide what to do now that she had my consent, but I knew where her hands were going to go. While part of me wanted her hands to go anywhere and everywhere they wanted, another part of me wanted to jump out of the window and just run away.

Compromise is the most important part of a relationship. Wasn’t that what Mother said? Something like that, I thought, trying to avoid flinching as Sasha’s hands started tracing my body. Your own damn fault for loving a blind girl, and for leaving for so long…

Before my mother had butted into my upbringing, I hadn’t been self-conscious. After my mother talked to me about being a woman, I became intensely aware of myself. Her talk, along with puberty, had opened a floodgate of insecurity. The ensuing years of early teenage life hadn’t been kind. My mother had taught me just enough to be conscious of what I wore and how I looked, but she didn’t get to spend enough time with me to make me confident in my choices.

The extreme emotional stress surrounding my parents’ deaths hadn’t helped me figure out my developing body and mind in the slightest, but I was working through that ever so slowly. Part of my returning to Sasha was to try and fit myself back into a “normal” life. It was a bit of a catch-22. I’ve been growing less compassionate and more distant as time has gone on, which has made living my life on the road easier, but it feels less and less worth living in the first place.

The United States, my country of birth, had a new president who promised an end to the unfair persecution of the supernatural community. His rhetoric made me wonder if I could live openly again. Even the Witch Hunter Organization appeared to be turning a new leaf, if the media was to be believed. I didn’t believe any of it, if I was completely honest with myself, but it was worth a shot. I certainly had had enough of acting like a wanted criminal.

It sure would be nice to have a cell phone and an email account, I mused. I haven’t even gotten close to being caught doing anything illegal, so I shouldn’t have to hide, dammit.

While I was busy drifting around in my thoughts, Sasha stayed busy exploring my body. She poked, caressed, and bit, marveling under her breath all the while. I knew she was trying to build my confidence back; she wanted to return me to the confident girl she had met years ago, instead of the cold, shy woman I was becoming. We had practically switched personalities, she the brash young woman, while I became the shy one.

“I think they’re nice,” Sasha said, tracing the edge of my breast with her finger, taking me out of my thoughts. “You’ve still got a few years to—”

“I’m sixteen, getting close to seventeen, Sasha. How much more are they going to grow, seriously?” I snapped, immediately regretting my tone.

She is just trying to help and you agreed to this; don’t be a bitch, I thought, chiding myself. You’re lucky to have someone that wants you so badly she literally can’t keep her hands off you, so don’t screw this up.

“What size again?” she murmured, ignoring my comment.

“B,” I replied evenly.

“But you’re so skinny and athletic… You still get them super snug? I bet you’d fit into a C…” she said, trailing off.

“I’m not going to buy a bigger bra just to make myself feel better,” I muttered, trying not to be frustrated.

Unless I got fat or pregnant, I was sure my breasts weren’t going to grow, so I didn’t see any point thinking about it, even if I did feel jealous about other women’s chests at times. I often consoled myself by thinking about how flat my stomach was, or something similar to that.

When we were a bit younger, and it became apparent I was a late bloomer at best, Sasha noted I could have other women jealous of me by staying fit. While I was determined to stay fit for survival reasons, other people being jealous of how I look was a motivating factor some days. Knowing Sasha liked my flat abs helped too.

“That’s not what I said to do,” she muttered quietly after a moment of silence.

“It’s what you meant,” I retorted.

“I like them just the way they are, that’s all I’m saying,” she said firmly. She cupped my breast and said, “They’re nice the way they are.”

“No, they are not,” I said, trying to ignore the feeling her hand on my breast produced.

“Yes, they are,” she insisted.

“No, they are not,” I told her, just as firmly.

“Any guy that doesn’t ask you out is an idiot. You’re hot,” she said, changing to a different strategy.

I pushed her hand off of my breast and said, “One, that would mean all men are idiots, as no one has ever asked me out; and two, Sasha, you’re blind. Literally blind.”

“That means I can’t think you’re hot?” she asked with a frown, as if the idea was new to her. Maybe it was, knowing her.

“Kind of, yeah,” I replied.

A sly grin took over her face and she whispered, “If thinking of your body gets my panties dripping, then that means you’re hot, no?”

“Now you’re just being crude and teasing me,” I complained, moving away from her. My face was burning with embarrassment.

“I wasn’t done,” Sasha complained right back. “Your butt was next!”

“Well, stop teasing me,” I told her. “And leave my butt alone.”

“But I like your butt, always have,” she said, coming over to me and resting her hand on my hip. “Admit it, you like knowing that I like your butt.”

When I didn’t reply, she reached over my hip and deftly pulled on a strand of pubic hair, making me yelp. She jumped on top of me, pushing my back flat onto the bed. She had a wide grin plastered on her face as she said, “Admit it!”

“Sasha, get off of me,” I said, my voice quivering. She straddled my waist and grinned down at me. The heat from her body did uncomfortable things to me. It was getting hard to think or speak, but I did manage to add, “Please.”

“Nope,” she replied, leaning down to get directly on top of my upper body. She changed to a mock evil voice and said, “You’re just stuck with me. Stuck with me forever, muhaha. Submit, or I’ll um… I’ll do something… I swear I had something for this…”

Wanting her game to end, and not wanting to fight again, I said, “Fine. I like it.”

“Like what?” she pressed.

“When… when you give me compliments,” I muttered.

“Hah! I knew it,” she crowed.

I smirked a little and added, “Even if you’re blind so they don’t mean anything.”

Sasha groaned at my stubbornness. Switching gears again, she pushed me back onto my side and snuggled up close, spooning against my back. I closed my eyes and sighed, trying to enjoy the feel of her body against mine, but something wasn’t quite right. I was getting anxious. My gut was telling me to leave. I had the urge to hop on the next bus to the other side of the state, if not country. I have since decided to stop ignoring gut feelings, regardless of how much my crotch complains. Granted, at this point in my life, I didn’t know what exactly my crotch actually wanted, but it sure wanted it. It made thinking difficult, that was for sure.

“What if I got my sight back and I could see everything?” Sasha asked. When I didn’t reply, she broke me out of my silence by biting my shoulder.

“Then you’d realize I’m ugly,” I replied before I pushed her face away from my shoulder. “Stop biting.”

“But I like biting,” she said, nuzzling my neck and shoulder.

“It’s weird,” I whispered as I tried to get my body to relax.

“I know… but I like it,” she replied. “I like biting and licking and… Can I…”

“What?” I asked when she didn’t continue. “What is it?”

“You wouldn’t let me. Forget it,” she said.

“Sasha, don’t you dare try and guilt trip me, not after all this,” I warned.

“No, I’m not. I won’t. The mood isn’t right anymore, anyway. I’ll do it next time, it’s okay,” she said quietly.

“Sasha?” I probed. It wasn’t like her to not even ask.

“I mean it. It’s okay. The anticipation might even make it better… I don’t want to jump the gun,” she murmured.

“You don’t want to jump the gun, but…” I trailed off, making it a question.

“Sometimes… sometimes I get really weird thoughts,” she said.

“Like what?” I asked, turning around to face her.

“Like wanting… wanting things, things I shouldn’t want,” she whispered.

“You can still ask me, Sasha… I’ll try my best,” I reassured her, but she shook her head.

“No, you don’t understand. I… I love you for doing this for me,” she said, running a hand over my hip. “You have no idea how nice it is to finally get you to stop hiding from me… but…”

“You want more?” I asked.

She swallowed and said, “It’s good that you stand your ground against me sometimes, because I think… I think I would do bad things if you didn’t. I… I think you should stop me sooner next time.”

“Sasha, have you…” I trailed off, hesitant. She had always been more than a little weird, and she matured sexually much faster than I did, so I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to know what she was talking about. Thinking about it, I really didn’t want to know.

She shook her head again and said, “No, I haven’t done anything bad, not yet. I mean, OK, sure, I masturbate like crazy thinking certain things but… I don’t really want to do them, I think? It is sick and gross but it turns me on, I can’t help it. Sometimes I’m not sure about myself…”

“I… don’t know what to say to that,” I admitted. I turned onto my back and added, “I’m sorry.”

She laughed and edged closer for a second. After maneuvering us around so she could spoon against my back, she held me close, burying her face in my hair. After a few minutes, she sat up, unsatisfied. I let her push me onto my back. I was too stunned by the sight of her nakedness to do anything but stare as she decided what to do next.

“Staysa,” she murmured, suddenly moving over top of me and nuzzling my neck. “Is this—”

“It’s okay,” I said, interrupting her. I put my arms around her back and held her firmly. Growing up, this had been her favored position to sleep in. “Just because you’ve grown big tits these last few years doesn’t mean you can squash me now.”

“My Staysabear is so strong,” she said with a giggle.

“And don’t you forget it,” I told her, smirking at her nickname for me.

She fell asleep a few minutes later, sprawled over top of me. She had one hand in mine, with her other in my hair. I could never understand how she slept like that. I stayed awake, unmoving for over an hour, before I got out of bed and wrote her a note, promising her I would return soon.

Seeing her lying face down on the bed made it really hard to leave, but I knew I needed to get moving. Of course, I didn’t realize how right I was, or I’d not be where I am now.