are you still in bed?
waiting for you…i–thought you were coming
I did cum…*laugh*…can’t find my car keys. still searchin…don’t give up hope…
okay. Ummm….want me to come and get you?
I just want you to cum…
such a diry man…
now who’s spelling is shot to shit?
all your faul, Sir…
FOUND THE FUCKING KEYS! Sooon…
i’m thinking of touching myself while i wait…just to warm up..
You’re plenty warm. Don’t you dare. NO touching.
*pout* I had no idea you were so mean.
I am a sadist, after all. I feed off your piteous moans. Okay no more texting. In the car.
She lay back against her pillows. It would take Michael about 10 minutes to drive here. Her pussy throbbed. The orgasm had almost been disabling…a thought which made her laugh. A disabled person having a disabling orgasm? Still, it had been *that* powerful.
Her phone chimed.
fucking car won’t start. can’t fucking believe it.
oh no! I can come and get you…will take me a while.
Her phone rang, even as her heart sank.
“Hi. Sorry about this. Fucking thing has been acting up for weeks, but I walk just about everywhere I go…”
“I’m so disappointed, Michael.”
There was a knock on her door. She struggled to the edge of the bed, wondering if it was her mom.
“Hang on Michael. No wait…I’ll call you right back.”
She disconnected the phone, dropping it on the bed behind her, and reaching for her chair. With a grunt of effort, she slid off the bed, suspended for a few nervous heartbeats between the two. It wouldn’t be the first time she had missed the chair and fallen into a heap on the floor. Sliding into the seat, she gave a quick smile, until she realized that she couldn’t reach the phone from here. Shrugging, she figured she’d deal with the door, then call Michael back. He’d get it, get her, or he wouldn’t. This was part of her deal.
Rolling to the front door, she opened it.
“You hung up.” He stood, wagging the phone in front of her, brow raised.
Her heart raced wildly. Her eyes and mouth were all perfect “o”s of surprise. He stared down at her, trying to look stern, then laughed.
“Don’t you think you should look out your peephole first before opening your door? I could have been a stranger, stopping here to ravage you and eat all you cinnamon buns…”
Shae felt panic dissolve in humor, with a dash of irritation.
“I told you I walk everywhere. I’m only a few minutes away by foot. Silly girl. Remember? I told your momma I walk past the bakery every day?”
“No…and you’re still a bastard.”
“I’m a bastard who is going to ravage you! And later?” At her questioning look, he continued, his voice fallen into a deep pirate tone.
“I’ll eat your cinnamon buns, arrrrh!”
He stepped into her foyer, closing and locking the door. Shae backed her chair up, as he slowly stalked her. The smile on his face was a combination of sexy and serious-the hunter after prey.
“You stutter. I had no idea, little girl.” The voice now was silky. Dangerous. His eyes never left her face as he paced slowly forward, keeping the same distance between them. Suddenly she didn’t think he was an overgrown puppy dog at all. He looked…hungry. Determined.
Spinning her chair quickly, she rolled for all she was worth for her bedroom. Before she reached the side of the bed, he caught her, stepping between her chair and the bed.
“No. Not here.” Gently but firmly, he scooped her up, her left foot hanging limply, her right kicking outwards.
“No kicking the Dom!” he growled, biting her earlobe.
Torn between laughter and pain, Shae settled on a moan. She felt his teeth clamp down, but the throb settled in her clit. He carried her to the kitchen, where a low, long counter separated the living area from the cooking area. Low, because it would be the perfect height for her to work at while sitting in the chair, he knew. And yet, it was also the perfect height for her to lay across for a paddling.
“You can lay on your belly?”
“For a while.” Her voice was soft, breathy.
“I like kitchens. Kitchens are like a Dom’s playground. Pervertables aplenty. All it takes is creative vision…”
“oh…oh…” Shae couldn’t seem to put two thoughts together in anything resembling coherency. He’d already knocked her into some sort of pre-subspace.
He lifted her up onto the countertop, ignoring her soft hiss as her warm body made contact with the cool marble surface.
“M…Sir….it’s so cold!”
“I’ll warm you up, subgirl.” His voice had changed, too. Gone was the teasing Michael that she already felt she’d known a lifetime. And here was the firmer, surer Dom she’d always craved. She shivered. Not from the cold, but from the effect he was having on her.
“Tell me what I can not do, what might harm you?”
He wanted her to think? Now? She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until he answered her.
“Yes, I want you to be clear-headed, always, about your limits. Your body will continue to change as we play. And I need to know always where your head is, where your body is so that I do not deepen your injury.”
That he accepted her as she was-well, it was nothing less than a miracle. That he understood…amazed her.
“How do you get this? Get me? Get…all of me?” She looked back over her shoulder at her leg, crooked somewhat out to the side. She’d lost any embarrassment about her body in the rehab hospital. Her mental healing had continued as she worked with Doms who understood the extra care needed for a submissive with her issues.
His hand stroked her “bad” leg, leaving a trail of goosebumps. He traced up over her hip where the long scar from the accident curved, a long red weal that ended near the base of her spine. He kissed the top of the old wound, then trailed his tongue down to where it curled and ended, at her hipbone. Some of it she felt, with a shiver that centered between her legs.
“I was in the service. Some of the guys I served with wound up in Walter Reed, in chairs. Some could cope, some couldn’t. But I kept going in every day, because together we could get through the effects of what we did, what we saw. We were still a unit. It’s …. it’s a bond that goes deep, little girl. Just as our bond will.”
There was much to learn about this amazing man. She told him then, about the accident, about losing her husband, about her injury. As she spoke, he rubbed her ass, pressing her head down onto her folded arms. He pinched her skin, gave slow and steady smacks to her bottom. It was an erotic, cathartic moment. Time seemed to fade away, until all that was left was his hand on her body.
There was no telling when she stopped talking, when he stopped spanking her. Dimly aware that she’d been crying, she took scant notice of the sound of a drawer opening and closing.
“Ting!” The sound of the spatula hitting her bottom brought her fully back into awareness. She hissed out a breath, then another as he struck again.
She grunted. The vibrant ‘ting’ echoed in the room as he worked around her ass. Sometimes she felt it more than others, when he added a sharp “SMACK” to the chorus.
The yelp popped out of her mouth at the unexpected assault.
“Tisk,” he murmured, his breath warm against her cheek. “Such language. Why, I’m sure this,”
“Smack! SMACK! Smack!”
“….is your favorite wooden spoon, am I right?”
“Fuck, fuck FUCK!”
He’d managed to find the sweet spot where pain erupted, just at the juncture of ass and leg.
“Sweetly pink here. There may be bruises…oh yes, we do need bruises, don’t we, subgirl?”
He struck with the spoon again.
“Oh, wait..!” She barely heard him move away before he was back.
He set a beat on her ass, her thighs and calves. Taking one ankle in his hand, he smacked the bottom of her foot sharply, heel, center, toe, then back up and around to her calf.
She yelped. She cried. She begged.
He did it again.
And then his mouth was against her ass, his teeth worrying the flesh, as his fingers slid deeply into her slit. His laugh rumbled against and through her buttock.
“So wet, you little slut,” she felt as well as heard the words. And then she was up, over, almost through the orgasm. With a lurch, she remembered she wasn’t alone…
“You better, slut. Cum hard for me!” His fingers curled against her spot as her one fully-working leg pushed her ass up, seeking to impale his hand deeper into her pussy as she came. Wetness squirted from her cunt, soaking his hand, her thighs.
As she came he bit her ass.
There was no clear memory of him taking her from the counter, nor of being put into bed. At somewhen during the night, his body behind hers had bucked into her, fucking her back into subspace. She’d fallen asleep, his shaft still buried inside her.
The sun streaming through the windows roused her, just enough to feel his warmth behind her. She realized why she’d awakened. His morning wood was lodged into the crack of her ass. She yawned, wiggling her bottom just a smidge closer, and fell back asleep, smiling.