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He led me to his car and made me sit. His hands left me and I sat there feeling utterly alone as the driver took us back to King’s apartment.
When we arrived, I nearly toppled over on my way to the elevator. The drunkenness was starting to fade, but I felt terrified.
We arrived in the apartment, and as soon as the front door closed, he slipped his jacket off and rubbed his wrists. He wouldn’t look at me, but my heart was pounding needily, because it had been four days and I wanted him so fucking badly, despite what he might do to me.
“Strip,” he told me.
I’d never done anything faster. Dress, lingerie, jewelry, until all I had left on were my heels.
“Those too,” he growled.
I hesitated.
“Did I fucking stutter?”
The heels followed. Usually he liked it when I kept them on.
He didn’t look at me as he sat down on the couch. I stood frozen to the spot.
“Lie down on the floor.”
I did, with my heart pounding.
“Spread your legs.”
They were spasming hard from my nerves, but I did it, my eyes on his.
“Wider.”
Wider.
“Fucking wider.”
Even wider.
“Hold your pussy open,” he told me, and I did. “One hand only. With your other hand, slap your clit.”
I made a move to do it, but he stopped me by holding up a hand.
“Not like you’re fucking playing. I want to hear the slap. I want it to fucking hurt.”
“S-so you do it,” I whispered, and he stared at me.
“You think I feel like touching you?” he asked me. “After all the shit you’ve done?”
Tears sprang from my eyes and my palm shook above my pussy. Despite everything I was fucking soaked. I’d never wanted him more.
“Seven slaps,” he told me. “As I count you down. You better make them hurt if you want to make it up to me.”
I whimpered and waited for the first number. He was torturing me to the point I craved those slaps, craved any sort of contact with my needy clit.
“Seven,” he said.
My hand shook as I slammed it down. Too gently. It barely hurt.
He kneeled down next to me, his fingers grasping my throat so softly I cried out, because I needed so much more.
“Do you understand this is a punishment?” he whispered against my lips, and I couldn’t stop nodding. “Why aren’t you treating it like one, then?”
I trembled.
“Six.”
His fingers didn’t move from my throat as I slapped myself harder. This time, it made me cry out.
“Five.”
The slap echoed around the room and my body twitched.
“Four.”
I bit my lip so hard I felt blood trickle down my jaw. That one really hurt.
“Three.”
I arched my back off the floor and howled like an animal.
“Two. Pet?”
My eyes found his through the haze.
“You’re going to come with the last one, Pet. Yes?”
I nodded. My clit was on fire.
“Do it!” he said and my breath hitched as I slammed my palm down again, and my clit begged for more.
But he waited.
He waited for ages, until my whole body was shaking, trembling, eager for the last number, eager for him to just. Let. Me. Fucking. Come.
“One,” he said. His voice was gentle, but his grip tightened around my throat.
I watched him as I brought my palm down against my pussy, hitting myself so hard I screamed.
He put his mouth on mine and tasted my tears and my blood and my screams, and I came crashing down with only one thing on my mind.
Please don’t let this be the end for us.
I’d never had an orgasm that long. It wouldn’t stop.
He caged my body under his and pinned me down. He licked the traces of my tears from my cheeks and pinned my hands above my head when they sought him out.
“You’re fucking killing me,” he groaned against my throat. “You’re making me… so fucking weak.”
I mewled and his free hand found my ass, lifting me up until my pussy was pressed against the bulge in his pants.
My clit was pulsing from those slaps, I needed him so badly I could beg for hours, if only for one taste.
“I should let you go,” he muttered against my chest, and my nipples tightened at his breath.
“Don’t,” I begged, feeling delirious. “Please, don’t, I’ll do anything. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry…”
His hips started grinding against me and I cried harder. We were so fucked up. This whole… relationship, or arrangement, or whatever the fuck it was, was going to destroy us.
I was never going to leave, though.
“You should go,” he said. His voice was rough.
“I won’t. I’m never going to leave.”
His fingers found the zipper of his pants and he pulled out his cock. I almost cried with relief.
“You need to go,” he said again, and I grabbed onto his hair as he pushed inside me.
“I’ll never leave,” I said. “I’m never fucking going.”
