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Except this time, the fantasy didn’t stop with the spanking. It started to take on new life. It started to expand.
Suddenly, I wasn’t just being thrown onto the bed, my pants ripped off. No, now, I was pinned beneath his naked body, bracing myself for the moment his cock ripped into me. Possessing me, owning me.
He owned me from above and below, inside and out. And not once, not even in my wildest fantasies, did I ever try to stop him.
It’s only after I’m coming down off the high of my second orgasm that I remember Bee. And that’s when the shame hits.
That one lasts every bit as long as the need does.
So for the three days that follow, I actively avoid Dmitri. Per the terms of the agreement I laid out—well, “agreement” is a strong word since he never actually said yes, but whatever—I don’t look him directly in the eye and I don’t speak to him unless I’m forced to.
I’m prepared for blowback, but to my surprise, he doesn’t give me any. He even arranges for Aleksandr or Pavel to drive me to and from work so that we don’t have to carpool.
It’s what I wanted. And yet…
I hate it.
I’m back to feeling incredibly lonely. I’m not talking to Dmitri. I can’t talk to Bee. I’m not allowed to talk to Syrah about any of this. My only solace is food. Which is why I’ve become a serial snacker.
A bag of Doritos will never let you down.
A tub of Ben and Jerry’s won’t freeze you out.
A carton of cookie dough will never make you feel powerless.
I’m in the kitchen, trying to finish my cup of green tea before Aleksandr shows up to escort me to the office, when Bee walks in. She’s wearing a pretty floral negligee that dances on her milky skin.
“Morning!” she chirps. I manage only a tight smile in response before I bury my face in my cup. Bee sighs heavily. “Do you want to tell me why you’ve been avoiding Dmitri and me for days now? I thought we made some headway in our last conversation.”
How on earth do I explain to her that Dmitri made good on his threat to spank me? How do I explain that I liked it?
Actually, I’m not sure I even need to. She basically figured that part out for herself. Still—it hadn’t actually happened at that point.
Worse—I’d promised her it never would.
“I just, uh, can’t talk right now,” I mutter, abandoning my half-empty cup in the sink. “I’ve gotta get to work.”
When I turn around, Bee’s standing directly in front of me, blocking my path, arms crossed. “What happened?”
That’s it. She’s seen the guilt and shame all over my face. She knows that I crossed a line with Dmitri. A big one.
“W-what did he tell you?”
Bee’s eyes go round. “Did you sleep with him?” She doesn’t look nearly as outraged as she should be.
“No!” I gasp. “Of course not.”
“Hm. Well, something happened. Dmitri’s being annoyingly evasive about it, too.”
“He’s trying to control my life,” I say, doing my best to summon up some indignation. “That’s what happened. And any time I push back, he…” I trail off.
“He gets all controlling alpha douchebag on you?”
“In a word, yeah.”
She nods. There’s a slight smile playing across her face. Why isn’t she more affected by this conversation? This is her fiancée we’re discussing! “There’s no point doubling down with Dmitri, hon. I appreciate your fire and your fight, but it won’t work with him.”
“For the love of God, what will work with him?”
