Control (The Protocol, #1)

by Lasairiona Lewis

We haven’t had a repeat of the kitchen-fucking incident, or fucking anywhere for that matter, but we both want it. It feels like it’s simply a matter of time before my clothes fall off, and his dick makes its way inside me again. I wouldn’t complain. In fact, it would be like stepping outside after a thunderstorm.

I spend seventy three to eighty two percent of my time trying to convince the child to put clothes on. He hates how they feel against his skin, and unless I can convince him of the logical reason as to why he needs to wear them, he opts to not. Always.

My day to day life has become about taking the logic and reason aside and analyzing what Matthew needs. It’s not about what I, or even Thor thinks he needs. It’s about what Matthew actually needs.

It’s hard as an empathetic human being not to try to fix a child you know is struggling sometimes. It’s even harder to have learned that I’ve been wrong this whole time. Matthew doesn’t need to be fixed. He doesn’t need to be wrangled into my, or societies ideals of what normal is. He’s perfect just how he is. And the more time I spend with him the more I utterly adore him.

When we’re out and about, other parents of autistic kids see similar behaviors and relate. I do it too. They are far more likely to approach me and start a conversation than neurotypical parents. I’m making fast friends with a couple of the neurodivergent parents at the park, an...

This morning was the worst morning since I came to work for Thor. Matthew became upset and lay on the tiled floor banging his head off of it. When I tried to intervene, he hit me instead. I’m pretty sure I have a shiner, and I have some scrapes and bruises from him clawing at my arms while I tried to keep him safe, but mostly I have a heavy and disappointed heart. In moments like this, I feel like I’m failing him.

I’m bone-tired, my soul aches for the little boy who was abandoned by his mother, and the mother who reached the end of her rope enough to leave her little boy. It’s so sad and heart-aching that I almost can’t breathe around the tightening in my chest.

Temptation tickles my fingertips. I want to arch my hips, dig my fingers into his hair and hold his face against me until I come enough times that my muscles turn to jelly, or he drowns from my cum. Whatever comes first.

But I want him to be proud of me, to praise me for following his instructions without question. Most of all, I don’t want him to stop. I want him to make me come apart at the seams.

Any trace of my brat has been replaced by a needy, fraught woman who just wants the beautiful man between her legs to tell her she’s amazing, and he’s so proud of her. Can brats have praise kinks?

“You’re going to need to use your words, Addison.” I don’t think I can. I don’t have any words left, they’ve all trickled out my pussy. There is only demanding need.

“Then come for me kitten. Come so hard you soak my face like the good little girl you are.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, three things happen at the same time. His mouth closes over my clit with a ferociousness he hasn’t used since he spread my legs for him. His fingers grab my g-spot with such pressure my limbs turn to jelly and white spots prick the edges of my vision. And when he rams his finger deeper into my ass, I’m a goner.

I’ve been with men who couldn’t ever get me off before. I’ve been with men who took a while to get me off, or who got me off pretty quickly, but I’ve never before been with a man who could make my body perform like a marionette doll the way The Viking between my thighs can.

My knees tremble, toes curl, and back bends even more as he doesn’t give up, determined to tear my soul from my body through my clit and not willing to settle for anything less. The man is possessed.

When the next orgasm hits, I bolt upright, my legs tensing, clenching his head against my body. I expect him to pull back, but he slips his fingers out of my holes and grips my hips, jerking me toward his face. He’s going to die, he’s going to suffocate himself and the medical examiner is going to find his entire face blocked up with cum. The man’s unhinged.