'Spanking, whipping, caning, tying up, tying down, gags, handcuffs. Whatever he's into.' Jeffrey grinned like a kid at Christmas. He was enjoying this way too much.
'No and no and also ... no! I'll just call it o–'
'Oh, no, no, no you will not, Miss Carina. He has January. Ride it out. Hell, honey, ride him out.' Jeffrey threw his head back, laughing. He clapped like a drunken teenager though he was sober as a black suit. His pink lip-gloss glimmered in the diner's neon. The birds on the wire frowned harder. Pretty soon they were going to burst into flames.
'Jeffrey, I did not say–'
He cut me off again. 'He gets
January. No cheating.' 'But–'
'Was the sex good?' he said a bit too loud and this time a murmur ran down the line of women. I blushed so hard I expected to simply dissolve.
'Well, yes, it was ... amazing! But–'
'Have you got anything to lose?' 'No, not really. Unless he's a serial killer and wants to make a suit out of me but–'
'Then no buts. Unless it's your cute, little pale butt all red and
rosy from spanking.' He threw his head back again and roared.
God. He was so lucky I didn't just dump my coffee in his lap.
'Jeffrey.'
'Trust me. Give him a month.' 'Fine,' I sighed. 'But if he tries to spank me, then I'm holding you responsible.'
'OK. Can I watch?'
I threw a grape at him and he smiled. 'No. And he won't do that. You're wrong.'
OK, so he was totally spanking me.
And I liked it.
I gripped the pillow, the lower half of me draped over Stefan's lap as he talked softly like we were at dinner. We weren't at dinner. I was naked from the waist down, save for some fuzzy snowflake socks he'd bought me to wear around the house. My head was on a pillow, my bare ass raised across his lap as he landed another blow and said. 'You didn't come have lunch with me like I wanted.'
'I'm sorry. I had a client who wanted to pick out extra wallpaper and that means a–'
'No excuses, are there?'
'No, sir,' I said dutifully and my pussy fluttered hungrily. I had come to appreciate a good spanking. The feel of Stefan's hands stinging my flesh as he scolded me for something real or imagined. Then he would dote on me. Smooth those strong hands over me and push into me and fuck me. Fuck me until I screamed and cried and begged, and yes, sometimes damn near spoke in tongues.
'No, sir, what?' He landed the sharpest blow yet and my body quivered but inside I went wet, flickering around nothing, wanting the feel of his cock thrusting high into me and making me come.
'No, sir. May I have another?' The punch line was, I did want another. And then another. And then I wanted to spread my legs for him and beg him with my body.
It had become a craving. To be submissive to his kinks and his wants. Because now, I wanted a lot of it too. Especially the days where my mother called and got me on the phone to cry and cry over Jack being gay. Jack being gay was not the end of the world. Hell, Jack being gay wasn't even news to me. Jack had always been gay and that wasn't going to change. He'd just finally said it aloud and good for him!
'You've wandered again, Carina,' Stefan said softly and a shiver skittered up my back like a
butterfly creeping up my spine. 'Sorry.'
'We can't have that happen, can we?'
'No sir.' A flurry of blows landed then. A sharp, hypnotic rhythm that made me think of marching soldiers and jack boots. In these instances I did not have to count. I simply had to endure.
A single tear slipped out and then a rush of endorphins that made my ears ring and my head spin.
'Are you more focused now?'
His fingers traced my outer lips, flicked at my clit and I sucked in a breath while uttering a 'yes'.
'Good girl. And look at this, Carina has found pleasure in her reprimand.' He always feigned surprise to find me wet and aroused.
His fingers slithered along my slit and then he pressed the pads of his fingers into my opening, drawing it out, making me squirm. The fingers were gone as fast as they arrived and I yelped, a precursor to the rain of blows that filled my head with the sharp report of his palm on my warm, flushed skin.
I didn't cry or beg or any of that. That always delays the pleasure. I'd learned to take the bite of pain – to relish it, even – and then bask in the warm attention and severe pleasure that followed.
Stefan flipped me, breathing hard, his cock tenting his jeans so that I imagined being trapped that way was painful. His clothes were off, the condom on before I could wiggle my way to the middle of the bed, both for comfort and to feel the flickers and nips of pain on my bottom. The soothing soft white sheets sliding over my flushed hot skin. He didn't speak. Instead, he spread my legs wide and licked the inside of one thigh, then the other. I squirmed like I could make him do what I wanted. I couldn't. Finally, though, he settled his mouth on me – sucking and nudging my clit with his tongue just enough so that I held my breath, wanting to
come, but not wanting to come. One more good suck and I jittered on the bed even as he raised, pinned me, and slipped inside. His upper body trapping me flat, his hands under my ass tilting me just so. Because Stefan liked me just so. His cock driving home in a slippery hot race to make me come. I've welcomed every single orgasm, especially with the stress that had suddenly blossomed in my life like some late winter flower. January had been a rush of calls from a heartbroken, worried mother and my newly announced gay, out-of-the-closet brother. Who was unable to understand why our mother was distraught.
Stefan bit my nipple just hard enough to make me jump. 'Focus, Carina. Stay in the moment with me.' He pushed his fingers to the hot and throbbing flesh of my ass and I gasped.
'Right. Sorry. There's just so much in my head sometimes I can't – oh–'
He did that thing with his hips that hits all the right nerves and spots and I bit into his shoulder without thinking. He hissed and fucked me harder and just like that I was coming in a great, gripping release of spasms and soft cries. Sometimes the noises he made me make almost caused me to want to love him.
Almost.
Stefan pinned me flat, pulling my knees high so that I was opened wide and bare under him. He fucked me slow then. His eyes catching and keeping my gaze so that I couldn't look away or drift. He rocked and thrust and ground to his content until he lost that fierce focused look of his and his jaw went taut, his eyes darker. And he made me come with him. But he always does that and it makes me grateful.
He had just handed me a glass of nice Pinot Noir and a plate of cheese when the phone rang.
'Leave it,' he sighed. He knew what was going on. He had, in fact, been very patient as more than a few phone calls had stalled our evenings together. He might be a bit Dom but he had a good heart. And as far as non-commitment boyfriends went, he was a champ.
'I can't.'
'We can eat and then we can fuck and then I can tie you up with those scarves you love. Then we can fuck again. And we can drink wine, watch movies and sleep because tomorrow is Saturday.'
The phone continued to shrill and I sighed.
'I'll even throw in the flea market. I know for a fact that the guy who sells the retro pinup girl stuff will be there. I know because I have his card in my wallet. He gave it to me last time.'
He was bribing me. Maybe men had a sixth sense when it came to stuff like this.
'Stefan, it'll just be a minute.' He frowned. 'Carina,' he said.
His voice was full of disappointment and a touch of anger.
'Just one minute.' I held up a finger to prove it.
He groaned, sipped his wine, leaned across the white sheets and navy comforter and kissed my bare shoulder. I shivered and my nipples poked the shell pink nightie I'd pulled on.
'Yes?'
I expected my mother. Or my whining, bitchy, diva brother. But no, Jeffrey said, 'Guess what day it is?'
'Um ...' My mind raced. It was not his birthday. He was born on Valentine's Day. Shocking, I
know. The world's biggest male slut born on the day of love. It wasn't anyone's birthday or a holiday or ... I had nothing.
'Give up?'
'Yes,' I said. Stefan had moved his hand to idly rub the back of my thigh as he watched the History Channel on my bedroom television. The touch was enticing and comforting and most of all, at this point, familiar.
'It's January 31st.' Silence.
Stefan leaned down and kissed
the spot right where my ass met the back of my thigh. My body responded instantly with a contraction and a rush of warm fluid between my legs. ' I said impatiently. And?'
His fingers stroked my other ass cheek and my face flushed with empathy for my bottom. He tickled at my clit with a fingertip and laughed softly. I heard the drawer. The crinkly sound of the condom wrapper. The smell of latex tickled at my nose.
'And it's time to say goodbye to
Stefan the Spanking Dom,' Jeffrey said, laughing.
'But–' One finger slipped into me and I swallowed a trembling sigh so that Jeffrey wouldn't hear.
'But nothing. I told you, no strings. No effort. And absolutely no expectations.'
'But–' Stefan was fucking me with his fingers, moving on the bed so that he could position himself behind me. My voice told him this was not an emergency, but he had no idea that this didn't bode well for him. I didn't stop him, I parted my legs even as Jeffrey spoke.
'But nothing. Now get that last pity fuck out of the way and cut him loose. It's only January! No getting wrapped up in any guy. This is your year to work it, Carina.'
I didn't even get another But – in. He hung up.
Stefan, grasped my hips, thrusting high into me, but holding me stable. Fucking me from behind in a way that never failed to turn me on. There was something primal and animalistic about a man taking me from behind. His fingers, slick with my juices, rubbed greedy, firm circles on my clit. 'Stefan–'
'Shh.' He palmed my ass with one hand, gripped me tight with the other, thrusting into me fast and eager.
'But we have to talk.' I hung my head, an orgasm already swelling in my pussy. Glowing in my womb. I bit my lip, trying to stave it off.
'Later. After,' he said, his voice held no room for argument.
So I let him take me, make me come. I let him turn me, tie me up and fuck me slow. I let him do it all until he finally came, his face gorgeous and determined.
Then we talked. And he wasn't happy. When he left I thought about crying. But just couldn't manage it. I called Jeffrey.
'Done.'
'Good girl.'
'I feel like shit.'
'It'll pass. This year is about you. And just being untethered.
Like a balloon.'
'Balloons are usually tethered,' I said, pouring more wine. I'd finish the bottle and go to bed.
'OK, a runaway balloon,' he said. I heard someone in the background. One pretty boy or another. Jeffrey always had company.
'Yep, that's me. I'm a rogue balloon.'