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It's so hard to find good help (dominant_minded X Nurse_K)

She screeched when he caught her on the stairs, pushing her down so she fell face first. Luckily she caught herself and didn't bash her face in. She just took this as an accident, that he hadn't meant to push her like that. In the next instant he was dragging her to her room, like he was a caveman and she was the woman he'd picked for the night. She whimpered when he grabbed her waist and peeled her dress off of her, most of the romance and playfulness gone from her. This wasn't feeling so right anymore. He wasn't acting the way she thought he would. He was far more animalistic, severe, unforgiving. She screeched again when he shoved her towards the bed, this time she knew it'd been purposeful. She fell on it on her hands and knees, immediately rolling herself over onto her back. She backed up towards the headboard and looked at him in terror. She was left in her black lace bra, matching panties, knee high stockings and garters. She scrambled away from him and said gently, "Nick, slow down a little. We have all night,"
 
It wasn't just that he didn't listen to her; it was more like he didn't even hear her. His eyes still blazed with uncontrolled lust. He kicked out of his shoes and tugged at his tie until it came off his neck. Then he was advancing on her; no, he was stalking her. If she tried to move to the side, away from him, he stepped that direction, cutting her off. He got within a few feet of her and lunged, grabbing whatever part of her he could get his hands on. He caught her by the arm and some of her hair, landing on the bed and pulling her down into it with him. He got to his knees quickly and yanked her hard to the center of the mattress. He shoved on her shoulders until she was face down in her pillows. He didn't spank her, he slapped her on the ass; the difference was subtle but definitely there. He held her down with his weight on his forearm and grabbed the back clasp of her bra. He didn't even attempt to unclasp it, he simply yanked until something broke.
 
She'd never felt this way before. Even the first time in his office hadn't been this way. He was hunting her now, and not in a way she enjoyed. She cried out when he grabbed her arm and wrenched her down, stuffing her face into the comforter so hard that she almost couldn't believe. She choked and sputtered, forcing her head to move enough so that she could breathe. "Nick!" she protested, wriggling in an attempt to free herself from his grasp, "Nick, stop! You're out of control!" when she slapped her ass, it stung, and only stung. It didn't give her any pleasure the way the spankings had before. She whimpered when he ripped her bra open, the straps falling down her arms as the cups released her breasts to dangle. She moved her arms to free herself from the bra only so that he wouldn't yank on them to free it from her. She breathed quickly, wanting nothing more than to run away from him. She thought she'd never want that again.
 
He actually growled at her, not hearing her protests, only the tone of her voice as she uttered them. The next moment he was leaning down and actually biting her shoulder. His hand holding her upper arm was a vise grip, clamping down as she wriggled beneath him. He released his bite and turned his head, spitting in her face. One of his hands was still free, and it started to assault her body. First he was squeezing her ass cheeks, then reaching around her to manhandle her breasts against the comforter. He squeezed them roughly, pinching down on the nipples with his fingernails. But then he moved to her sex and started to violate her through the black lace. There were rough pokes and pinches on her already worn clit, there were fingers pressing so hard into her pussy that the panties pressed into her a few inches. He paused for a moment to yank back one of her garters and let it go, snapping it against the back of her thigh. His face was still inches from hers, his breath hot and urgent on her skin. His eyes didn't look anything like his own. There wasn't a smirk or an arrogant smile on his face... this was a sneer.
 
She shuddered when he growled at her. Tears welled up in her eyes when he squeezed her arm, she felt as if he would actually bite the skin off of her shoulder and chew it. The spit on her face sent her over the edge. She felt it slide down her face and her tears spilled over, pouring down after it. She sobbed and shook her head, turning her face away so she couldn't see his sneer. She sobbed harder when he began to assault her, pinching her nipples and poking at her pussy. She whimpered when he snapped the garter against her thigh and her body collapsed down against the bed. He would have to yank her up to get her into any kind of sex position. She sobbed once more and slowly, tentatively turned her face to look up at him, "Why are you doing this to me?"
 
His eyes met hers, but it was through a hazy sea of lust and pent up sexual frustration. He'd been here before, but never with her. It was all coming out of him. The frustrations of the day, of the past few days. Jennifer, the stupid board members, his father, the pent up sexual excitement from the evening, he was letting it all out at once. He was taking it out on her. He heard the words, pleading words that sounded too much like ones he'd heard several times before in his life. He still didn't hear her. He mounted her, pressing her body into the bed with the weight of his own. She could hear and feel him fumbling with his zipper and then yanking his trousers and silk boxers down, exposing his member so that it nestled between the cheeks of her ass, against her panties. Then he was grabbing her around the middle and tugging her onto her knees, still pressing her face down onto the bed with a hand on the back of her neck. He pulled the crotch of her panties to the side and pushed right into her, burying his entire length into her in one stroke. He let out a loud, animalistic grunt and grabbed a handful of her hair. Yanking her head up he started to pump into her; her desires never even entering his mind.
 
This was not how she'd envisioned this night going, this was not how she'd hoped this night would end. He wasn't her Nick anymore, she didn't know who he was. He wasn't even that man in the office who'd tortured and raped her, this was someone completely different. She whimpered when he yanked her middle up but she didn't really try to stop him. She let him pull her up so that her ass was up, her knees were bent, and her face was pressed down into the mattress, completely submissive. They really were like animals now. He was the alpha male and he was mercilessly mounting his chosen female. She sobbed quietly into her own sheets, hearing him undress himself sloppily and only enough to do what he wanted to do. Then she felt his member press against her, and it was one of the most horrible feelings she'd ever had. He was going to rape her again. The man she loved, the man she'd do anything for was going to rape her. She jumped a little when he thrust into her so suddenly, but the pain was minimal. By now her insides were used to his length and girth and welcomed him, but it hurt her emotionally beyond anything else. When he yanked her head up by her hair she shrieked and let her cries flow out of her, she wanted him to know how much he was hurting her.
 
For several minutes he was single-minded in his assault. He thrust into her quickly and forcefully, using her hair as some sort of handle to make her arch her back and pull her back onto his thrusts. Her cries seemed to encourage him to be rougher rather than more merciful. He could hear the shrieks and wails and they excited him. The part of Nick that knew this was Elsa and that she was hurting at his hands wasn't the part that was running the show. He let go of her hair, her head dropping back into the pillows and grabbed her arms at the elbows. He yanked them behind her back until they were almost touching each other and began to pull her hard back onto him, causing each of his rough thrusts to make a loud slapping sound as his hips slammed into her ass cheeks. As his body started to soak up the pleasure it had been after all evening, it distracted him a little from this all consuming mood. He moaned out loudly in pleasure, his hands squeezing her abused arms in a way that normally would have been a gentle signal that he was pleased with her.
 
A large part of her could not believe that this was happening right now. Her beloved Nick was on top of her, power thrusting into her and hurting her badly. She was relieved when he finally let go of her hair, though he did it so suddenly that her face just bashed down into the mattress, bloodying her nose a little. She sniveled and tried to make it go away, but blood dotted her sheets and smeared on her face. Then he grabbed her arms and yanked them back so tightly that she thought her shoulder would pop out of its socket. She screamed when he pulled them back tightly, hoping that a scream of absolute pain would break him loose from whatever spell he was under. "Nick!" she cried, "You're hurting me!"
 
His eyes were closed in pleasure when he heard her shrieking at him. It caused a cold chill to run down his spine, instead of a tingle of pleasure; he shivered in response and stopped thrusting into her for a moment. Then she screamed out his name, they never screamed out his name because they usually didn't know his name, and he knew something was wrong. He just couldn't quite figure out what. His eyes popped open and her words registered. I'm hurting her? he thought, a little confused. He stopped moving and looked down over her body, recognition washing over him and the accompanying pain and guilt cutting into him, leaving gaping wounds in his chest. It was Elsa; he was hurting Elsa. He held onto her arms, but moved them gently to her sides. He pulled out of her slowly, feeling his arousal die so very quickly into cold guilt and absolute terror over what he was seeing. As gently as he could he laid her back down on her bed. Then he saw the blood and he wailed out, "Oh Elsa... No! NO! I'm so sorry, Elsa!" He was running his hand gently over her shoulder as she sobbed, but pulled it back in horror when he realized it. He was suddenly afraid that she must hate him right now and that any touch of his would be unwelcome, causing her further pain. He knew exactly what he had done to her, none of the clarity of the last few moments was gone from his memory, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to be able to curl up at the foot of her bed and die.

He looked at her, but he couldn't stand the sight of what he'd done, evidence written in bruises, blood and tears that marred the happy beauty he was used to. His chest felt tight, like he couldn't breathe, with gaping wounds torn out of his heart and lungs. It was selfish, he would realize later, but he felt that he had to get out of this room. He reasoned that she didn't want him here anymore, that she couldn't want him here. He got up from the bed and said in a voice barely above a whisper, "Elsa, I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry." He turned and rushed quietly out of the room and down the stairs. He collapsed on the bottom step and buried his head in his hands.

He was a monster. He had done this before, he knew, but those women had known what they were in for. More importantly, he didn't love them. Even more importantly, they didn't love him; they didn't trust him. How could he have let himself do that to her, to his Elsa? How could he have been so careless? He felt like a wretched animal. He sunk further down on the step, his body slumped forward until his head was almost touching the knees of his slacks, his hands pulling tightly at the hair on the back of his head. He gasped for air as soul racking sobs threatened to over take him. There was no room in his heart in that moment for anything but the deepest of self-loathing.
 
She felt him stopped moving and knew that he had finally heard her, or that he had finally cared to listen. He slowly moved her arms back to a normal place, and at least the pain from that was gone, though she still had a great deal of residual pain and she was sure her shoulders would hurt for days. Then he pulled out of her and her body collapsed down onto the bed once more. Her fingers were clutching the bed sheets so tightly that she thought she might actually rip them. She heard him apologize over and over but didn't bother to look at him. In this moment, she didn't believe that he was sorry. She just wanted him gone. She partly blamed herself, she should've kept with her original plan to sleep alone tonight. But no, she'd wanted to please him, she'd wanted to play with him...and she got this instead. He was obviously pleased with her, but not in a way that she had wanted.

She heard him run out her bedroom door and was glad. She knew his clothes were still strewn across her bed and floor, so the likelihood of him actually leaving was minimal. She didn't hear the front door open and knew he was still there, in her house somewhere. Part of her wanted to get up and throw his clothes into the hallway and lock the door, but she couldn't move. Instead she just lay there, collapsed, on the bed, and sobbed. She didn't even bother to try to conceal her wails of pain and sorrow. Eventually she fell asleep like that.
 
He sat on the step for well over an hour. Tears eventually came between the deep sobbing gasps, aided along by the wails he could hear from the angelic creature he had tortured in the room above him. Painful as it was to listen to, he found the silence that followed, once she finally fell asleep, even worse. The only sounds were the ones coming from himself. He was exhausted but his mind wouldn't let him sleep, intent on stabbing him with thoughts and sorrows that cut like knives into his very marrow. Eventually he stood, desperate to dull the raging torrents of his emotions and thoughts. Je searched the downstairs bathroom for medicine that would dull his senses. Finding none he searched the kitchen for alcohol. He found some Reynolds' beer, but wouldn't even look at the label. It only increased the pain to think about the fact that she was someone's daughter. He found a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels and didn't even bother to get a glass. He pulled the cap off and chugged as much of it as he could in one drink. In ten minutes he had finished the rest off. He went back to the step, unwilling to give himself the comfort of the couch. Slowly he felt his mind struggle to keep it's thoughts as he began to get drunk. He rarely drank more than a little for this reason; he didn't like his senses dulled. It was too much of a disadvantage, but he welcomed it now. Sleep finally found him on the step as he slumped against the wall. It was torturous, just as the night before had been, but far different in its form.
 
Elsa slept fitfully through the night, constantly waking and feeling like there was something on top of her. Every time she realized that there wasn't and quickly fell back asleep, only to have it happen again not ten minutes later. It was only in the wee hours of the morning that she finally got a continuous sleep. She woke when the light poured in through her window, demanding wakefulness from her. She began to roll over but felt all the pain in her body. She opened her eyes and sat up, looking at the smeared blood on the sheet. Then she remembered everything. She looked around her room, seeing the clothes thrown all over the place, her beautiful gown crumpled up in a ball. She slid off of the bed and went into her adjoining bathroom, taking off her lingerie and getting into the shower. She took a long excruciatingly hot shower, getting out only when she felt that she had some semblance of clean again. She got dressed in simple weekend clothes, leaving her room to go downstairs.

She saw him crumpled there against the wall, dead asleep. She also saw the empty bottle of Jack lying on the floor next to him. Anger surged up inside of her but she didn't move to touch him. She just walked passed him and into the kitchen. She made herself breakfast and sat at the table to eat it, contemplating the night before and all the mixed feelings she had about it.
 
Nick woke when he heard the sound of dishes clanging in cabinets. He had a headache, but not a full on hang over. He rubbed his temples for a moment, yawned, and took stock of his situation. His back felt sore from the way he'd slept. He was wearing his tux pants and not much else, and he was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, Elsa's stairs. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes again, wishing the memories were a dream that he was still in. It wasn't. He could hear her in the kitchen, making breakfast. She had to have passed him on the stairs, and she hadn't woken him. A flood hit him. He hadn't known what he was hoping for, but maybe he had stayed on the step last night for a reason besides wanting a bad night sleep. Had he subconsciously been hoping that she might come down the stairs and take pity on him? Obviously he had no right to even hope for that.

He took it as a clear sign that she didn't want to talk to him. Talk to you? Please, she doesn't even want you around here, he thought dismally. He had no one to blame but himself. What he had done to her last night was unforgivable in his mind. He needed to leave. Quietly, he went back up the stairs to her room. He grabbed each article of his clothing that he'd left there. He picked up her gown and put it on a hanger in her closet. He saw the blood stained sheets and pulled them off the bed, taking them into her bathroom to wash the spots, by hand, with cold water and soap. He didn't know where her linens were so he put them back on the bed with water spots where the spots of blood had been. He looked around the room for any more evidence of his presence, anything that might hurt her again when she saw it. He found nothing as he slipped his shoes back on. Quietly he went back down the stairs. He would have to get past the kitchen door to leave her house, but hopefully she wouldn't notice him. He really didn't think she would try to stop him, only he didn't want her to see him awake and feel the fear or pain that might come with that.
 
She had figured that when he woke, Nick would do one of two things: one, come and try to talk to her or two, try to leave without her seeing him. She obviously seen him already and ignored him, but as the minutes wore on she began to feel bad. She was still incredibly angry about what he'd done to her, but she knew that there had to be some reason why he'd done it. He wouldn't just be rough and callous like that for no reason, there was a deeper need. She didn't really understand what that deeper need was, but it was clear to her that he'd been hiding it for a long time and that when it finally came out, it was worse than it needed to be.

As soon as she heard him get up and go upstairs, she got up as well. She'd finished her own breakfast so she quickly set about making hers. She didn't know why, but for some reason she felt compelled to make him breakfast. She felt like it was the right thing to do, regardless of what had happened the day before. She made him an egg, a couple pieces of bacon, and a slice of toast. She put it all on a plate and set it down at the bottom of the stairs along with a glass of orange juice and a note. Your breakfast, the note simply read. Then she disappeared into her downstairs that she knew he didn't even know existed.
 
He was so focused on listening and looking towards the kitchen that he almost stepped right into the plate of food. He leaned down and picked up her note. He couldn't decide what to make of it. The brevity of note, and the fact that she hadn't come to bring him the food personally, seemed to say that she was still quite angry and didn't want to talk to him. But on the other hand, the fact that she had made the gesture at all made him think maybe she didn't absolutely hate him. There was certainly no way she could feel she owed him breakfast, he thought. He stood there for a second, trying to decide what in the world to do.

He finally decided that if she didn't want to talk, he would go ahead and leave. He wasn't going to leave the food untouched, though. He didn't think that the message that would send was what he wanted, although part of him thought that might be easier for her. Make a break now, let her think he was angry, make sure he never hurt her again, but he couldn't bear considering it. He quickly stacked the egg and bacon on the piece of toast and carried it with him, moving towards the front door again.
 
She came back upstairs only when she heard her front door shut. She saw that the plate was empty and was relieved by it, glad to know that he'd at least taken the food with him. She had so many mixed thoughts about him right now, she wasn't really sure what to think. She hated him. She loved him. She needed him. She never wanted to see his stupid face again. But she knew she couldn't live without his stupid face. She didn't know what she could possibly do with the rest of her day after he left. It was Saturday. What could she do? She could go out or something, but lord knows she didn't want to go anywhere. She didn't think it would be productive to stay locked up inside all day though. What she wanted was to be with Nick, except she knew that if she saw his face she would burst out into tears.

Her solution was to plop down onto her couch and call her mother. She ended up talking to her for almost two hours, spilling out all of her guts to her. She left out some things, of course (like the leash and collar), but she told her how she had fallen for this man so quickly and how she felt that he was absolutely perfect in every way except that sometimes he got a little rough. Her mom basically told her that her father was just like that, but that he'd learned to try to curb it with her. That they loved each other so much that they made sacrifices for each other and their marriage had always been the better for it. She hung up with her mom and laid down on the couch, trying to decide if the conversation had made her feel any better. She didn't know if it did.
 
Nick drove home without putting his shirt on, but found he couldn't go in the house. He didn't know why, probably because he felt like torturing himself, but the car seemed to drive itself down to the beach house. he parked and didn't bother going into the house. He grabbed his cell phone and his breakfast, which had ridden on top of his shirt and tie for the whole trip, and headed down to the beach. He ate hungrily, his head still pounding lightly, and then sat down in the light brown sand, probably ruining the expensive slacks. He looked at the waves and felt the breeze. He wanted to cry, to sob out, but there was nothing left in him. He pulled the cell phone out of his pocket and stared at it. He knew exactly why he had brought it with him: to play this game for the next hour. He composed 4 different text messages that he didn't send, found her number in his phone and hit the call button over a dozen times and pressed the cancel button before the system could dial her, and spent the moments in between staring at the phone and begging it to ring in his hand. Finally, he talked himself into sending something simple and to the point. He typed out "I can't possibly tell you how sorry I am or how much I hate myself for what you're going through. I'll give you as much space as you want, even if that means I'm out of the picture." and hit the send button.
 
Her phone vibrated next to her and she glanced over at it to see that it said "Nick". She sighed and turned away from it, not wanting to read what it said. But she was pulled to it by something, by her heart. Her heart told her that she had to read it, she had to know what he wanted to say to her. But she hated him. She couldn't care, he was an asshole. But...she squirmed a little and finally rolled over and grabbed her phone. She clicked the "Read Now" and read his message. Her heart swelled when she saw it, her chest tightening. What could she possibly write back to that? She opened a message box and stared at the blinking line for a few moments, trying to come up with something good. "I miss you," was all she could think of. So that's what she wrote, and that's what she sent.
 
When the phone gave a little ring signaling her return message, he was still holding it. It made him jump and he dropped the phone in the sand. He scrambled to grab it and flip it open, his fingers trembling as he pressed the 'Read' button. His whole body went limp as he read her short message. He fell back on the sand and wanted to cry again. She was too good. He didn't deserve her. But he could be better, he told himself. He wasn't going to hurt her again. He'd do whatever it took, even if it meant he didn't have sex with her ever again, he'd find a way. He was in the car and driving before he even knew he had left the beach. He hit the Martin's bluetooth button and said "Call Elsa Mobile". The car answered him saying "Dialing". His heart pounded a little as he hoped that she would answer. He was driving in the direction of her house, but even with her message, he wasn't sure he was welcome there yet.
 
She jumped too when her phone began to buzz again. At first she thought it was another message, but she saw that it said "Nick calling,". She hesitated, unsure that she really wanted to hear his voice. After three rings she picked it up and held it to her ear, but didn't say anything yet. Her mouth was open but no words were coming out. Finally she cleared her throat and said, "Hi, Nick." her heart was pounding wildly, almost out of control. She didn't know what he was doing, what he would say, or even where he was.

(Short, I know.)
 
"Hi Elsa," he answered on the car's speaker phone. His voice felt incredibly shaky, and he was sure it sounded just as bad. He couldn't quite decide what to say next and the pause started to stretch to an awkward length. "I... um... got your message," he started but felt that it was coming out wrong, "I want to say again... I mean... Elsa, I'm so sorry." He paused, but didn't give her a chance to answer. He didn't want to give her any pressure to offer him any sort of forgiveness. "I'm in the car driving, but I don't know where I should go... I was wondering... if you could help me out with that."
 
She blushed when she heard his voice. It melted her heart completely. She was ready to forgive him for absolutely everything, one hundred percent. How did it do that to her? She had no idea, but he did it every single time. "You can, um. Come back to my house. I'm still here. The door is unlocked too." but she didn't say that she forgave him, she didn't even tell him that she wanted him to come back, just that he could. She didn't think that she could handle being on the phone with him any longer without completely giving in. "Bye," she said sort of awkwardly and clicked the end button, tossing the phone away from her before she could pick it up and dial him again.
 
He noted that she hung up rather quickly, which concerned him, but he couldn't hold back the utter relief that rolled over him from being invited back into her house, back into her life. He drove faster. He didn't notice how fast he was going until he saw the red and blue lights in the rearview mirror. He pulled over to the side of the road, actually grinning. When the officer got to his window he was still so happy that he rolled down his window and greeted the officer with a smile, "Howdy, Officer sir... ummm... I mean ma'am." He choked back a laugh, figuring that she would definitely not understand that he was just giddy and not cocky. She glowered at him and asked him what the hurry was. He couldn't help himself, it just came out of his mouth. "Oh nothing, Officer, I'm just in love with this girl..." he stopped himself, and then realized he still wasn't wearing a shirt, "sorry, I'm sure that sounds a little silly. Why don't I just keep my mouth shut." He handed her his license and then turned to look politely at the road, putting both his hands on the steering wheel. The lady cop looked at his license and then looked at him, trying to figure out if he was drunk or on something. He seemed steady enough, but he couldn't seem to stop grinning. She sighed, he was a little too cute and obviously being honest. She told him to slow it down and let him off with a warning.

Nick grinned the whole way to Elsa's house, but stuck to the speed limit. He walked up and was about to knock when he remembered she said the door was unlocked. He opened the door and walked in, shirtless and shoeless. The instant he saw her he felt both better and worse. He was relieved, and also felt so terribly guilty. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but stopped. He just looked at her, a mixture of relief and anguish on his face, and hoped that she would find words that he couldn't.
 
She heard him come in the door and turned to look at him. She stared at him for a moment and then looked away, down towards the ground. She cleared her throat, unsure of what to say to him. She searched her wood floor for answers but didn't come up with any. She slowly looked back up at him again, tears welling up in her eyes. She wiped them away hurriedly, the last thing that she wanted was to cry right now. She gave him a little timid smile, "Come sit. We should...we should talk."
 
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