I groan into the sheets as his hand slaps my tender skin repeatedly. He pauses to rub my ass, and I find myself moving against him.
“Stay still, kitten,” he says as a warning. His fingers dip between the folds of my pussy.
“Yes, Anthony.” The words fall from my lips with lust. He raises his hand, and another hard spank greets my ass. “Uhh!” I scream out as my body bows. I’ve never felt this before, this heated need for more. I writhe under him, but then remember his command.
Still.
I force myself to remain motionless as more blows rain down on my ass. Right, left, center. Over and over again. Each time he hits the center, his fingers sink lower.
The pain morphs into something entirely different and I feel myself rise higher and higher. My head thrashes as I try to resist, but my body betrays me. I’m fucking soaking wet for him. After a few more hard swats, he stops and leans down, planting a kiss on my left ass cheek.
“What do you say, kitten?” he asks as his hands gently caress my ass.
I have no fucking clue what he’s talking about. My heart beats faster with the desire of wanting to answer him correctly. And then it hits me.
“Thank you for my punishment,” I say just above a murmur.
His fingers travel down my ass and over my puckered hole. My lungs stop as his fingertips hover there. They prod slightly, but only for a moment. Then they travel lower and dig into my heat. The feeling is so unexpected, and so shockingly needed.
I grind on his hand as his fingers pump in and out of me. I moan into the sheets shamelessly. He pulls them out, only to move the moisture to my clit and circle it with no mercy. My back stiffens and my body tingles as every part of me is on edge. And then he pinches my hardened nub and I shatter. I fall off the edge and break, with waves of pleasure controlling every inch of my body. It’s a paralyzing release that leaves me breathless.
It’s quiet for a long moment as I lie limp across his lap. Finally he breaks the silence. “Good job, kitten. You did really well. I’m proud of you.” For some reason his praise makes my heart swell. I quickly look away and try to ignore the warmth I feel in my chest. Not to mention his fucking erection digging into my stomach.
He reaches over me to grab something off the nightstand, but I don’t see what it is. I hear a cap snap open and I hiss as a cool dab of cream lands on one ass cheek and then the other. He chuckles, and it’s the sexiest fucking sound I’ve ever heard. He gently rubs the cream into my skin and I practically purr with affection. Aftercare. A small smile plays at my lips, but then I remember everything. Shame replaces every good feeling. I swallow as spikes seem to grow in my throat. What the fuck just happened?
He reaches over to the nightstand for something else, and this time I look. My brow furrows as I catch a glimpse of something that I'm almost positive is a syringe.
He stabs the needle into my ass, making me wince before I can do a damn thing about it. After a second he pulls it out and rubs the tender spot. “There kitten, now you’ve had your shots.”
I look at him from the corner of my eye as he lifts me off his lap to sit next to him. Fuck, my ass hurts! I’m too scared to ask what the shot was, but I can’t take my eyes off of it. I need to know what he’s putting into my body. I swallow thickly and bite out the words.
“Anthony, what was that?”
“A shot of Depo-Provera,” he answers confidently.
Birth control.
He sits me upright, making me cringe from the stinging sensation and moves off the bed. I keep my head lowered and try not to show how fucking worried I am.
“I’ll be back in one hour. Be ready for me this time.” He cups my chin in his hand. “I’ve been going easy on you, so don’t make me regret that.”
His lips hover an inch away from mine, but he doesn’t lean in. My breathing picks up and I wait for him to kiss me. But he doesn’t.
He drops his hand and walks quickly to the door.
“One hour. Don’t disappoint me, kitten.”
Catherine
I breathe in deep and look at my reflection as I layer on one more coat of mascara. The cabinet is filled with high-end beauty products that are all brand new. It also contains my makeup bag, which he obviously stole from my house.
I’ve been watching the clock like a hawk.
My hair’s tied back in a loose braid, and my makeup is clean and natural-looking, just enough to cover the imperfections.
The closet is stuffed with all sorts of clothing. From cocktail dresses, to slutty role-playing costumes, to everyday pieces that I actually love. He also brought along a duffel bag packed with a few items that I wear all the time.
The variety of clothing, makeup, and accessories is strangely familiar. Some things I recognize as mine, but the new additions are all nicer, more luxurious versions of what I already own.
The one thing he didn’t grab were the owl earrings my mother left me.
They were hers, and when she found out she only had three months left to live, she gave them to me.
They’re gorgeous. I'd admired them since I was a little girl. The earrings are yellow gold with ruby flowers in the centers of the owls, but I’ve never worn them. I was always too afraid I’d lose them. And now they’re gone.
I tilt my head back and exhale, waving my hands around my face to cool my eyes and keep me from crying. It’s almost time, and I can’t ruin my makeup and piss him off.
I don’t know why I was so lackadaisical when he came in this morning. Maybe it’s because I slept so damn well. It took forever to actually get to sleep, but when I did, I slept wonderfully. I guess allowing myself to cry some helped. I'm not sure why I wasn't more alert this morning. Maybe it's because he was so lenient last night, but whatever the reason, I can't let it happen again.
I calm myself down and put the mascara back. Everything’s neat and put away. It makes me feel at ease. I just need to make the bed and then I can wait for him.
I always make my bed in the morning. I think staying at home all day has made me a tidier person than I ever was before. So long as I’m capable of making the bed, I’m able to do anything. I snort a humorless laugh as I move the sheets into place and reach for the duvet. It’s so pretty and soft. It’s off-white, with thin silver threading making a paisley design throughout.
I bend at the waist to lay my head down on the bed and love how I sink in to the mattress and smell the comforting scent of fresh laundry. As I inhale deeply, I hear the doorknob turn and the door slowly open. I quickly climb the bed and kneel at the end of it. I don’t know if this is where he wants me. My heart races. I don’t know any of his preferences. He never told me. He may want my hair a certain way, my makeup to be heavier, or my clothes to be different. I have no fucking clue. I need to ask him. He hasn’t given me anything. He’s not playing fair.
As soon as I find out what kind of mood he’s in, I’m asking. So long as it’s a good mood.
I hear him walk by the sofa and toward the bed, but I don’t look up. I keep my head bowed and wait. I’m on my knees, sitting back on my heels with my hands slightly in front of me, palms up.
I’ve read a lot of books and there are so many damn positions. I don’t know which one he means by kneel. For Christ's sake, in movies they kneel on one foot, but I’m sure he doesn’t mean that though.