Smack.
Shit. That stings. My reflex is to shoot my hand back in both protection and to soothe my ass, but I remember his warning and stop myself. I don’t know how many more I have coming, but I don’t see how they will help me with anything.
“Count dove. You don’t want me to add five more.” He says.
Shit. I forgot.
“No Sir. Sorry Sir. One. Thank you.”
“Good girl.”
How come every time he calls me that, I feel warm everywhere and so proud. Like a preening peacock.
Smack.
Fuck! “Two Sir. Thank you.”
Smack.
Motherfucker. “Three Sir. Thank you.”
By the time he gets to the fourth one, I want to call out Chandelier and run for the door.
Smack.
“Five. Thank you, sir.” I manage to get, even though the tears are now streaming down my face like a waterfall.
“I know this hurts baby and I will stop as soon you have surrendered. There is no stopping until you have let yourself go and have fully surrendered. Only then will we be able to proceed as we are meant to.”
Smack.
Surrender. How much more can I give? Am I not sitting here with snot running out my nose and down my face, while counting as he humiliates me and spanks me like a child? What more is there?
Smack.
“Count Elizabeth. I don’t want to make it harder, but I will.”
“I can’t Fucking count asshole. It HURTS!!!!” I haven’t cried this hard since my dog died and my dad wouldn’t let me bury him in the backyard.
Smack.
“Who the fuck, are you yelling at dove? You want to use your safe word already, huh? Is that what you’re saying? Are you telling me all this time I thought you were a strong woman; who could take anything and wouldn’t let anyone stand in her way is a scared little girl, who needs her daddy to fix everything. Is that what you are going to prove to me right now?”
As pissed off as his words are making me, they also make me cry harder. Not because he is hurting me by saying them, but because for so long that is who I was. I became that girl because it was the only way I could get his attention. Fuck up something and he would have to fix it. I had to become someone the town gossiped about to get a second of his time.
Now, I don’t want to be that person anymore, but I also don’t know if I am strong enough to change it on my own. Let’s be honest, when a person needs to resort to such things instead of being ok not be seen, I must be weak. Maybe I am unworthy of love or affection. Who the hell would want a woman who doesn’t fend for herself?
As more and more smacks reign down on my sore raw ass I cry harder and harder, until finally I go limp in his lap and let it all out. I cry for the life I could have had with different parents and for the decision I need to make for a different life in the very near future.
The weird thing is at some point the burn and hurt from the spanking turned into a warm cocoon like sensation with a tingling in my pussy like never before. I am having trouble believing something that seems, so demeaning can turn into something beautiful and make me feel wanton.
Without warning, I begin a to float to the ceiling, while looking down on myself. The woman laying across his lap looks almost serene, like she has finally found something she has been looking for. I can hear moaning coming from below and to my surprise the woman is moaning; moving herself back and forth as if searching for something. It is confusing with what is happening to me. I lose time, but it couldn’t be much. Seconds, maybe a couple of minutes. I must have blacked out or something, because when I finally come to I hear him soothing me.
“Fuck dove. You are perfect for me. Look at you. Your ass is fucking red and hot, but you still manage to find subspace and let yourself go. There is nothing more beautiful than seeing your sub fly and baby, you are fucking soaring. You’re such a good girl and I am so proud of you. I know you don’t know the significance of what has happened yet, because you still haven’t come down from it. When you are finally on the ground and we have a chance to talk, you will feel it baby.”
I have no clue what he is saying, but right now I have never felt safer and more cared for than right now wrapped in his embrace. As he kisses my temple and nuzzles my face, I can feel myself starting to fall asleep and then awakened by movement.
“Come on baby. Let’s go upstairs.”
The mention of going upstairs is enough to make my heart race out of my chest. I know I am on some sort of adrenaline high with awareness returning, but I am not too intoxicated to know that my pussy is swollen and laden with want. She is pulsing between my legs and beating to a beat only he can hear.
Hell is a rhythm he created. Between the months of non-stop contact, he has been making with me, either by always being where I am or by stopping me from making a bigger fool of myself then I already have. A few months back I foolishly confronted Max Crawford’s fiancé Rosy in the middle of the street. I don’t know what I was thinking because I didn’t even want him. It was just the idea of someone finding something I couldn’t seem to get. It was right after I had my encounter with him at the club and realized what I could possibly feel for him and what he could give me. I wanted to lash out, out of fear I think, but he came and stepped in as usual.
It has been his M.O. since the club and has been waiting for an opportunity to insinuate himself into not just my life, but me. While giving me the time I needed to come to terms. At this point I am not sure I have completely come to terms with it, but I know I am tired of fighting it. I’m on fire right now and not just my ass. Only he will be able put the fire out.