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Oh, jeez. My middle heats with embarrassment, but I’m also turned on to no end.
Jud sweeps me up against his chest and takes me to the chair behind his desk. He turns me so my back is to his front, and he sits down. I feel like I’m on Santa’s lap until he roughly spreads my legs and drapes them over the padded arms of the chair. I’m spread wider than I’ve ever been before, and Jud’s hand comes down to cup methere.
Immediately, I try to close my legs. I’m whimpering and squirming, and it’s not from excitement. Blackness is coming. It’s closing in from the edges of my vision. Jud’s manhandling is too much.
“Settle down, kitten.” He punctuates his command with a slap right over my crotch. It doesn’t hurt, but it startles me enough that the blackness retreats. “Daddy’s not gonna hurt you. Never gonna hurt you.” He says the last part quietly, as if he’s talking to himself.
I’m too intrigued by that little spank—and my reaction to it—to keep squirming. I’m also intrigued by Jud’s firmness that somehow comes across as tenderness, and by the way he talks to himself about never hurting me.
He cares about me.
“Good kitten, settling for daddy.” His heavy hand rests possessively over my area. Now that I’ve stopped fighting it, I realize it feels good to be spread open for Jud like this, to be held and possessed like this.
I’m still afraid, but it’s not because I’m expecting violence. It’s because I don’t know what Jud will do next.
What he does next is pet me all over while he talks dirty to me. He pets my legs, my arms, and my stomach while he tells me about going to bed last night and realizing there had been a naughty kitten rolling around in his sheets. Both hands come up and seize my small breasts as he speculates about why I began touching myself. Was his kitten horny? Was she thinking about daddy’s dick? Did she miss daddy?
I decide not to tell him it was another man on my mind in those moments. Even though this whole sharing thing was Jud’s idea, he’s the one who seems to have the most trouble with it. One thing’s for sure. Jud is the only man on my mind right now.
He ensures he stays on my mind by popping the button on my jean shorts—my favorite daytime bottoms—and sliding his hand inside. It’s a tight fit. His hand is huge, and my shorts aren’t exactly roomy.
“Does my kitten think she can spread her scent all over my sheets and not face the consequences?”
The pad of his finger makes contact with my clit, and I just about shoot off him like a bottle rocket. But since he’s holding me down, all that energy crackles inside me, and I cry out.
“Shhh, kitten. Don’t want the others to know you’re being punished. Not a sound,” he commands, and he massages circles on me, going first in one direction then the other, alternating speeds.
I have to choke back the sounds that naturally come from me when I’m being touched like this. It makes what he’s doing to me that much hotter, knowing there are men on the other side of the door alert for any sign of my distress, wondering what kind of trouble I’m in. The answer to that is: the best kind.
It’s not long before the sounds claw their way out no matter how hard I try to hold them in. Jud has a handful of one of my breasts, and his other hand is driving me wild. To stop my keening, he seals his mouth over mine.
He devours me and ignites me, and it’s not long before pleasure grabs hold of my body and makes it bow off his lap. When it’s all over, he zips up my shorts and sets me on my feet. “Now get to work, kitten. Shep’s got a lot to do today.” I am dismissed with a pat on my butt, and I stumble out of his office in a daze, glad there’s no one left in the common room to see how disheveled I am, inside and out.
It’s only once Shep has me wrapping balls of dough for freezing that I realize I could have made more of that opportunity with Jud by asking him to push my boundary. He would have been happy to penetrate me with a finger or two. Darn.
I try to sound barely interested when I ask Shep where I might find Doc.
“Ah. He took Scrap and went to Boseman for a mini-scavenge,” is his cheerful answer. “They’ll be gone until dinner time.” He lifts his arms to re-tie his manbun, which puts his crazy-huge biceps and triceps on display. “Is there anything you need that I can help you with?”
Gah.He has no idea how sexy he is.
“Maybe.” I lick my lips, imagining Shep helping me with my little problem. I could ask right now, and he’d most likely be more than willing, but I think I used up all my confidence with Brawn last night. I also feel wrung out from that little discipline session with Jud. All I can do is stand there over my dough balls with heated cheeks and bold desires. “I’ll let you know,” I manage, and I get back to work.
Later, Shep sends me to one of the storage cabins for some twine. He needs it to “dress” the goose he’s thawing for tomorrow’s dinner. This cabin is one of the farthest from the lodge. It’s one I haven’t explored very thoroughly. Inside, it reminds me of a dollar store. There are stacks of home and kitchen items, organizational things, like Tupperware containers, storage cubes, and boxes upon boxes of wire-rack shelving kits like the ones the supplies are stacked on. One whole shelving unit is piled high with crafty things. I see crayons and markers, glue, pipe cleaners, colorful pom poms, plastic bags full of different sized googly eyes, clothes pins, thread and needles, and—my heart jumps for joy—yarn!
I learned how to knit when it was a trend, but I never really did anything with it other than make a few crooked scarves for my family and friends. I was always too busy to sit still for the hours on end it takes to actually finish more than a simple project. But on a rainy day or when I was bored, I remember finding peace and relaxation in creating something from nothing more than a ball of yarn and some needles.
This shelf has everything I need to pick the hobby up again. There are even some books with patterns for knit and crochet. I’ve never crocheted before, but I’d like to try. My eager hands fill two medium sized storage bins with yarn, needles, crochet hooks and how-to books. When I get back to the lodge, I realize I forgot what Shep sent me there for—the twine.
Shep laughs as he appraises my haul. “Do not worry, my flower. I can use this.” He lifts a ball of cotton yarn from one box and tosses it lightly from hand to hand. “I’m glad you’ll make use of these things. I gathered them in case we found a woman one day. Or a child—you saw the arts and crafts do-dads?”
“I did. So, that cabin is your doing, huh?” I definitely approve, and I show it by kissing Shep’s bearded cheek. I consider kissing his welcoming mouth, too, and asking for his help with my boundaries, but I’m too excited about my find.
He can tell. He gives me a squeeze and tells me to go have fun with my treasures. He also promises to get me more yarn next time he goes on a scavenge.
Sitting on the couch by the cold fireplace, I lose myself in my new favorite activity. I pore over the books, experiment with different stitches and color combinations and plan out a simple hat and scarf project with a thick, wooly yarn. I’m halfway done with the hat when Shep announces dinner’s ready.
I apologize up and down that I did absolutely nothing to help him, but he waves it away with a smile. All too soon, it’s time for me to take my seat with my companion for the night. God help me, because my last hope for overcoming my fear of penetration is the Reverend.
