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...9...
CHEESE IN THE TRAP🧀
She was quick to sense the thick ominous atmosphere the moment he took her into his bedroom. He set her on her feet with a delicate gentleness that didn't match his anger, slightly shocking her. He went around her and undid the zipper of the dress. He tore the sleeves off her body, ripping it to rags with none of the gentleness that he had displayed earlier. The gown stubbornly hung at her waist. He ripped the dress off her in one swift smooth move that made her gasp. He flung the shredded material away from her, far away from her. She whirled around, surprised enough to look at him, forgetting her fear for a moment. He had a satisfied look on his face despite his rage. He ran his eyes over her seminude -for she was in her underwear- body once, twice and then turned away from her, raking his hands through his raven black hair. She forefelt his outburst during the foreboding silence that followed the ripping off of her dress, a silence that nearly easily stretched across an ocean. And then, it came, unrestrained, flat-out.
'You were bound to your words! How on earth could you go back on your words?!' he demanded turning his ferine gaze on her. 'How the fuck could you do that?! What in the bloody blaze did you think you were doing trying to leave? Do you know the implication of what you have done? Do you?!' he asked her in a sharp tone. She flinched for his voice was loud and dreadful leaving her terror stricken by it.
'I do not think that I did anything wrong. I, I only wanted to be free,' she said to him, 'of you.'
'You wanted to do so at whose expense, at whose expense?' he demanded of her. 'It was at my expense, my expense! You made a mockery of me! You disobeyed me! You deceived me!' he said to her with the ferity of his anger.
'I am sorry,' was all she could say to him at the moment.
''You are not! I will make you sorry, I promise!' he screamed at her. She began to weep again. This was the heavy comeuppance of her conatus to hegira. She reviewed her unfortunate concatenation within her. It left her tired, worn out, completely willess, dispirited, unimpetuous.
'Please,' she pushed out.
'Do not plead,' he advised her. 'Don't you dare think to shake me with your pleas for I will not be moved Mine. You should save your voice for your screams,' he said wickedly. 'Come here,' he ordered. He drew her to him, ripping off all of her underwear. She cowered in fear.
'Please,' she told him again, 'have mercy. I am really sorry. Do not do anything to me,' she begged him, terrified. She had never seen him as he was now, thrice as beastly as she had always thought he was. She was really afraid that he would do something to her.
'Shut up!' he barked, baring her nude form to him. She drew her hands over her body to shield it from him as much as she could. But, she noticed that his gaze did not seem to linger on her in any way that was considered immodest. He easily raised her naked form into his arms.
'What are you doing?!' she asked him frightened by his rashness. He gave her no reply. He set her on her feet in the bathroom and began to unbutton his shirt. Her heart leaped out of her chest as she began to panic. 'Do not!' she yelled. 'Noli me tangre!' she warned him, backing away from him quite slowly as if there was really somewhere to run to if she wanted to do so.
'I will do so,' he told her, 'nolens-volens.' His terse reply caused her heart to jam in her ribcage, intercepting its earlier flight. It was even on the verge of malfunctioning if not total shutdown.
'Don't you dare!' she screamed, 'or I'll yell so loudly,' she promised him.
'Try it,' he said giving her a very evil smirk, one that made her blood to congeal quickly. 'No one can save you from me.' She swallowed at his words. This was really her punishment, what she was getting in return for her concupiscence for escape, freedom. She was cornered, like a taken sheep, subdued, at the mercy of a force majeure. She understood the phrase "dolce far niente" in that instant. It would have been far better if she had ignored temptations, sat still and done absolutely nothing. She would have completely avoided this catastrophic concatenation.
'Please,' she found herself entreating in a broken voice, one that did absolutely nothing to move the beast staring daggers at her.
'Shut your mouth,' he thundered as he threw his shirt over one of the towel rack in the Hwang jang sil. He lifted her compliant form into his arms once again and immersed her into the bath tub, staring pointedly into her eyes. The warm water welcomed her weary body, encasing her in its relaxing and soothing transparent cocoon. She returned the stare, tensed and frightened beyond measure of his unknown intentions.
He knotted her hair expertly at the top of her head. She reached for the high bun after he was done, touching it. It was firm and skillfully done. He was a cognoscente in a lot of things. But this, hair? It surprised her. Where had he learnt to do such and so well at that? It was a question that she dared not ask at that moment -the timing was wrong- and it was one that she could not also answer. She watched him carefully; apprehensive as he took the wash clothes, puzzled by his actions. He ignored her eyes on him and began to bath her gently, better than he always did before as if she was a delicate vase. Her eyes widened in a mixture of shock and pleasure; shock at the fact that he could be that gentle, his fingers whispering over her bronze skin almost like a caress and pleasure in the sense that his fingers caused desire to awaken swiftly inside of her.
'What are you doing?' she asked him, springing forward, alarmed by the sensations that ran through her as the wash clothes circled her shoulders.
'Stay still,' he hissed, glaring at her in fury. She knew better than to disobey him. She resumed her former position, as tense as she could be. She watched him intensely before her gaze shifted. She followed his hands as the wash cloth travelled down her right hand. He took her palm in his and washed it thoroughly as if it had been contaminated earlier. He repeated the superfluous gesture on her left arm. Heat was beginning to rise in her, dimming her fright. She gasped softly as the washcloth came atop her breast, covering the full high moulds of flesh. Her nipples tightened instantly and embarrassment washed over her, causing her to redden. 'Will you be still,' he said to her in a very stern voice.
'I, you,' she looked away unsure, having nothing to say, embarrassed. She still couldn't believe he was doing this, bathing her so thoroughly. He had never done that before. He only helped her to scrub her back but mostly watched her bath whenever he assisted her to bath for he let no one else do so. He carried on, disregarding her. He bathed her full moulds lightly, flippantly, purposefully -holding her gaze- in a circular sequence. Her nipples knotted and she bit her lower lips to stifle an implicating moan. He continued with what he was doing like he didn't notice, lingering languorously on her peak, running the washcloth over it, teasingly, tortuously, convolutedly. She closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure, unable to suppress it anymore when his fingers replaced the wash cloth, tracing, feeling, and kneading.
'Oh!' She muttered in an uncontrollable voice. She bit her tongue softly to muffle the sounds of delight she was creating as his fingers travelled over her thick pebbled areola. He carried on with his erotic task indifferently. She arched towards his hands, quite needy, wanting his touch, accepting his strokes of pleasure, unable to turn away, completely drunk on it. His hands left her breasts for the quarter of a second and his fingers were quickly replaced by the wash cloth. She bit her tongue yet again, harder this time to prevent any sound whatsoever from slipping out of her betraying mouth. She shuddered when his fingers went on a wendy over her body, his hands also travelling lower with his welcome ministrations -cleaning her body, familiarizing all of her body, seducing her with his touch. 'Sweet lord,' she rasped, her eyes flying open as his fingers trailed her thighs. He ignored her reaction, continuing with what he was doing, scrubbing her softly and gently, acting oblivious to her naked want. He washed her legs in the same manner, caressing her foot and receiving moans after moans of candid pleasure. He dropped the wash cloth then and lifted her to her feet by the waist. He proceeded to scrub her back down to her buttocks and then her legs with perfect ease. She bit on her tongue hard to smother a moan which still emerged, victorious.
'Touch you toes,' he commanded in a thick voice that sounded nothing at all like him. She gasped at the command. 'Do it yourself or I will make you do so,' he threatened her. She stared at him for but a moment and then she turned around before she bent over slowly, reaching for her toes, giving him a good posterior view of her molten core -which was glistening with her juices of want, need, desire and a full frontal of her ass -ass cheeks and butt crack inclusive. 'Spread your legs,' he continued in a hoarse voice that betrayed his emotions, the fact that he was also turned on by it all. She complied his instructions with him assisting her to do so. He planted both of her hands on the edge of the bathtub to give her leverage, balance and she came to appreciate the gesture for she needed stability lest she tumble when his hands came on her anew.
Now, the washcloth resumed its duty, cleaning her in the most intimate of places. And when his fingers replaced the wash cloth in that area, over her vulva, she moaned hard and long, needy. When his fingers found her clitoris, she arched into him. He stroked her clit expertly, building her need. She cried and moaned, softly, panting as it built. He slid a finger into her, and then another. She met his thrust with a loud cry of pleasure. He pumped into her quite slowly, lackadaisically with his fingers, enjoying the feel of her around him. He built the pace rhythmically until he was pumping faster, at a speed that left her mumbling nonsensical things. She rode his fingers, frenzied with need, hazy with lust. Then, her orgasm hit her, hard and clear. She cried out as the delight of gratification washed over her. She tightened around his fingers -even as he kept thrusting into her- and came again, lavishly, coating his fingers with her ester like liquid. Her legs wobbled critically, completely incapable of bearing her weight. He caught her and straightened her. She stared at him thankfully. She heaved as he lowered her once again in to the water and began to deal with her beautiful face, proceeding to wash off all her coatings of make up. He washed her hair next with a sweet smelling shampoo.
Afterwards, he thoroughly rinsed her, the whole of her, from head to toe. Then, he went to retrieve a towel from behind him. He towel dried her and wrapped the towel around her before lifting her out of the bathtub and carrying her gently into the bedroom. He set her down on the bed before he let himself lose it. He tore the towel away from her body in that instant of uncontrolled rage and flung it far away. He drew her to her feet, ignoring her gasp of bewilderment as he closed the gap between them. He stared at her for but a moment before he lowered his lips ever so slowly to the spot between her right ear and her shoulders. He planted a kiss ever so softly on the smooth flesh of her skin. She purred as he bit gently into her flesh, making a Hickey.
'I will make you sorry Mine,' he suddenly said to her, causing her to stiffen, her pleasure hot blood running cold in that instant. His tone caused fear to clog her throat. He straightened and lifted her then, out of the blues. He strode towards the other end of the room and set her atop his huge mahogany writing table. It was currently devoid of a thing. She nearly choked on her fear when she realized how he wanted to make her pay. He drew a line from her neck with his fingers, down to her back, following the outline of her spinal cord straight to her buttocks. She shivered with a mix of fear and pleasure. 'You were bound to your words,' he reminded her before his palms descended with brute force, slamming its target hard. She screamed at the impact. 'Did you or did you not give me your words?!' he demanded. 'Answer me!'
'I did,' she answered in a tremendously trembling voice. The second spank wrenched a pained scream from somewhere between her tight throat and upturned stomach.
'Did not you promise not to ever do such again? Did you not?!'
'I did, I promised!' she forced out. The third spank was with a lesser intensity, yet she wept, still.
'What did I tell you?' he questioned her. She didn't answer for a moment, sobbing to her heart's content.
'My last warning, you said it was my last warning,' was her reply.
'I told you not to blame me if it happens again, did not I?'
Her answer was low and very meek. 'Yes, yes you did.' The fourth spank was a notch harder than the third, concoursing with the fifth, the sixth, the seventh, the eighth, the ninth, the tenth, the eleventh and finally the twelveth. It amplified her piercing screams of pain, her cries and pleas for mercy, for a second chance from the hard hearted devil. He stopped then and stared at her red ass which was bearing his palm imprint for a moment. 'Please,' she begged in a shaky voice, 'please.'
'This should never happen again,' he said in a commandeering voice, hard as steel, terrifying, capable of infusing fear into anyone that listens to it.
'I won't,' she begged. 'I promise you that it won't happen again.'
'I am not asking you to refrain from it Mine, I am ordering you to do so. If this should repeat itself one more time, I shall give you a punishment so severe that you will never be able to endure talk more of surviving it. Be warned!' He threatened. He raised her into his arms once again and carried her tear shaking form to the edge of his bed where he set her on her feet. He retrieved one of his white shirt from his wardrobe and helped her into it. It ended halfway down her thick lovely thighs. He did the buttons and then made her sit at the dresser where he combed her long oxblood hair as she cried her eyes out, their eyes meeting occasionally in the huge clear mirror.
When he was done, he put the almost dried hair into a knot like the one from earlier but made it a little loose to allow it to completely dry.
'I am sorry,' she whispered one last time, looking at him in the mirror. They held each other's gazes for bit a moment.
'I shall not warn you anymore Mine. I shall act,' he said. He turned away from her then. 'You are not allowed to leave my bedroom lest I shall punish you.' Then, he began to walk away from her, leaving her at the dresser. He left the bedroom without a backward glance. When he was gone, she broke down and cried out her eyes, profusely. She had become the cheese in the trap, tied to a spot, a slave to the overbearing beast.
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...OmaPhinaPhire🔥