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All Of Me	By : StrawberryWine36 Category: -Movies Misc > Het - Male/Female Views: 2033 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Kingsman movie or the characters.This is a work of fiction and I am making no money from this.

Chapter List
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Over the next few days I found something I had not had for a while, the time to be me. I missed my work passionately but apart from that I was in a good place. I got up when I wanted and I did not have to make tea, I did not have to worry about housework or walk on eggshells in case Rafe was in a foul mood. I missed Toby of course, his loss burnt like a deep pain in my heart but I spent my days writing and wearing my hair how I liked it, my make up as wacky as it made me happy. I had learnt to accept the fact that I wasn’t able to return to Lowther and that there were certain things about Harry’s house that took a bit of getting used to. For example, the freaky stuffed dog in the downstairs bathroom which had disturbed me for the first forty eight hours but now just seemed a quaint eccentric decoration. Harry had been busy most of the time; he would leave late morning, only returning to the house in the evening. I had strict instructions not to open the door to anybody whilst he was away, I could however go out into the garden and enjoy the sunshine whenever I liked. So in this time I had spent some precious time rediscovering myself. My love of baking had come back, with no one to criticise my creations or throw them in the bin. My time was my own for the first time in a long while and it was heaven. Harry had promised to take me shopping for some clothes at the weekend since all I had was the garments I wore when I arrived.
Tonight I was curled up like a contented cat in my favourite armchair, a bag of monster munch on my lap and a large glass of chardonnay which was going down far too well. The lights were low and I was engrossed in a book, ‘The story of O’. Harry was sat opposite, a pile of papers in his lap which he was absentmindedly flicking through.
“Are you enjoying that?” He said eventually, after glancing over at me for a few moments.
“This?” I raised the book. “This is freaky shit but I can’t stop reading. Why do you even own this stuff, you look so...so normal.”
“It’s not a case of being normal or not normal. If you read a crime novel it does not automatically make you a murderer, likewise a novel of erotic devolution does not make you a deviant. I acquired that book a long time ago from a very dear friend. It is considered a classic in its genre. What you make of it, is entirely up to you.” He explained without looking away from his papers.
“It’s very....well let’s just say it’s an eye opener.” I replied, not lifting my head from my book.
“I take it Valentine never opened your eyes in quite the same way?” He put down his papers onto the table and looked over his glasses at me.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, in the bedroom.”
“What? You mean as in what O goes through?” I smiled, waving the book at him. “She’s a tad extreme for me I’m afraid. I mean the things that happen to her...”
“Which she permits...” He added
“Does she?” I frowned, thinking back to the horrors that I had just read.
“Of course, that is the whole point of the story. She wants that completely, if she did not want to commit she always had the option to walk away. Such is the way the relationships work.”
“I suppose so.”
“Either way, it doesn’t make it right...or wrong. It’s a work of fiction and if it does make your mind question things then it can only be a good thing. We must always question everything! “He tapped on the table accentuating his statement. “Anyway, back to my question...”
The concept of the whole thing confused me and intrigued me, O was a woman used for sexual gratification by many men, yet maybe that was what she wanted. I read no evidence of her having any negative emotion, she found pleasure in pain. But there was at no point that I had read so far that she had refused, tried to escape the situation. She felt shame but was that the shame that fuelled her sexual desires?
“Question?” I stuttered, snapping back out of my thoughts and seeing that he was awaiting my response of some sort.
“Yes...”
“What?” I thought back for a moment to what he had said. “Oh you mean sex...Rafe? Ha, no.” I closed the book and placed it on my lap. “Rafe had his own ideas about that sort of thing. It was all on his terms and very selfish, I got bored to be honest. I know that sounds bad but it’s the truth, I did!”
“Did he not ask you what you liked?”
“Oh god no, “I laughed, leaning forwards and putting the book down on the table. “Do you really want to know about all that?”
“Yes, do indulge me.” He leaned forward, watching me intently.
“Ok,” I downed the whole glass of chardonnay in preparation for explaining in slightly tipsy terms. “Well, if Rafe wanted sex he would let me know, it was usually every two or three days. he would lay in bed on his back and make this sort of groany noise until he had my attention, then I would start doing the things he liked, namely a forty minute blow job and then when he had had enough we’d just do it. Not much else to it really, I know it sounds really boring and drab but I was glad when it was over with. Sex doesn’t really interest me, it’s over rated.” I made a face as I finished my speech and refilled my glass.
“Well you have obviously never had a gentleman take you to bed.” He replied with a smile as he got up to leave the room. I sat for a moment thinking over what I had just heard.
“Would that be different then?” I asked, chewing my lip thoughtfully.
“A gentleman would never force you, or make you feel obliged to do something you did not want to do.” He explained, turning a moment later to add “Unless of course you wanted to be forced into doing something and that would be a whole different thing all together and quite acceptable.”
He gave a laughing smile at my blushing face as he left the room. I hadn’t exactly expected that answer.

I had just taken a shower, as I emerged wrapped in a towel and headed back to my room I realised that I did not have a clean top to put on. Harry had promised to take me shopping at the weekend since all I had was the garments I had been wearing when I arrived. Wandering past Harry’s room, I wondered if he would mind if I borrowed one of his shirts for the day and on presuming he wouldn’t, I sauntered into his room. Opening the wardrobe I flicked through garments before noticing something on the floor. It shone shiny and metallic against the white paintwork. I picked it up, carefully, the cold metal felt harsh against my hot hands. My fingers ran caressed each part of it, from the handle right down to that deep dark hole that the bullet would emerge from. I turned it over and over and pointed it at the window, narrowing my eyes and taking my aim. How many times had I daydreamt about this, gripping the handle and pointing it at Rafe when he was being at his most cruel. The sensation of the ultimate control, I can take your life! I can end your entire being, your memories, and your thoughts, all gone. I don’t know what came over me but I held that gun and walked away, right over to my room and placed it in the top drawer of my bedside cupboard. I thought about it, my body ached with the urge to hold that weapon. Murder my dog you fucking bastard, well how about this! My hand holding the gun at Rafe’s forehead. He would be on his knees, shaking, his eyes full of fear. Uttering apology after apology and begging for me to spare his life. Him, begging me, a nice little turn around that one. This is for all the things you said, all the promises you gave me, all the times you told me everything would be ok.
My finger caressed the trigger, small, cold, hard against my finger. I’m keeping this; I’m keeping this for my moment. My moment when I get the chance to see you sobbing on the floor, each tear hitting the floor louder than your voice. My sweet revenge. I pulled one of Harry’s shirts up over my shoulders and looked at myself in the mirror, the pure white cotton hung loosely against my chest with my bare legs beneath the soft fabric; I pointed the gun at the mirror and lowered my eyes with intent. There was nothing sexier than feeling a man’s shirt draped over your skin with nothing underneath. Nothing more powerful than holding that gun in my hands.
Two days later it was a Friday night, all quiet as always but I was buzzing with happy vibes. Today’s thought was brownies, I had the recipe on memory for the things and I craved them. I busied myself around the kitchen, collecting ingredients and weighing them out. I laid out all my bowls and lit the oven. Busying myself whilst listening to some Lady Gaga and singing along with actions. I was stirring the mixture and singing aloud as I felt a pair of hands on my gyrating hips. I stopped immediately and he moved his hands, one either side of mine on the counter top as he leaned in close, I could feel him behind me.
“If you wanted to see my gun you only had to ask.” He said softly into my ear, the cold touch of the metal made me jump as I felt it against my thigh. He moved it upwards until it was resting on my waist, I sighed as it moved on, sliding underneath my shirt and up underneath my bra. I wasn’t afraid, if anything it was turning me on, the sensation of the hard metal against my warm skin and the way he was holding it, sliding it against me, playfully, he knew it was arousing me. I said not a word but my mind was screaming out ‘Oh god, I know you’re probably really angry at me for taking it but please just fuck me over this counter whilst holding that gun against my arse’. I jumped out of my inner daydream as it fell to the floor with a clatter.
“I’m sorry.” I whispered. He spun me around so I was facing him. My hands against the counter, he moved closer to me so that our faces were inches apart. I waited for him to get angry, to be furious that I had taken something from his room.
He stared at me intently, no sign of the dark anger in his eyes that I was used to seeing in Rafe.
“Stop apologising.” He leaned down to kiss me softly on the lips and then more urgently as I responded, pushing my lips back against his. His breathing heavy with desire he suddenly flipped me up so that I was sitting on the counter, my hands fell to the side, spilling the mixing bowl, the liquid pooling around my fingers. He kissed me more urgently, his hands in my hair, pulling me close. ; My hands ran down under his jacket, feeling his body beneath his shirt. My hands sent the brownie mixture across the counter, pooling around me and saturating my hands. That was a kiss like no other, his hand held my cheek as our lips locked. I could feel from the bulge from his trousers that he was feeling the same. I pulled him closer so I could feel him against me, my hands in his hair, feeding on his kisses. The brownie mix from my fingers smudged across his cheeks, through his hair.
He pulled away suddenly. Pulling his hand to his mouth and turning his back to me.
“Shellie, I’m so, so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, you really should!” I enthused.
“You’re vulnerable and in my care, that was very wrong of me.”
“Wrong? Harry that’s not fair! “I pouted, frowning at him from the counter.
“No, it was wrong, your uncle is arriving today “
What the hell did that have to do with anything? I sighed heavily. He stood back, slightly awkward looking.
“Did you enjoy that though?” I asked as I turning to wipe the mess that surrounded me.
“Oh god yes, Shellie I wanted to do that since the moment I saw you in the cemetery. I wanted to wipe those tears away and kiss your beautiful lips but a gentleman never takes advantage of a lady, and especially when she is in distress.”
Oh if only he knew how the way he spoke was literally turning me to jelly. How he stood across the other side of the room saying those words when I wanted to pull him close and show him how he had just made me feel. Call me a love starved little housewife if you will but I needed him to come back over and kiss me like that, just one more time. I couldn’t even look at him.
“What if I said that ever since I met you...” I did not get the chance to get any further as a loud knock on the door broke us both from the moment.
“Who’s that?”
“I might be wrong but I’m thinking that would be your uncle at the door.”
“Shit...” was all I managed, hopping down from the counter into a pool of raw brownie gunk and handed him a tissue to wipe the chocolate fingerprints that I had left on his cheek.
“Not a word!” He warned, pointing his finger before turning to the door. “I mean it!”.
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All Of Me