by W Winters
He has to look away, back to his drink that’s empty when he tells me the last bit. He just wants me to listen. He stalks off, leaving me naked as he goes back to the kitchen, feeling miles away.
He thinks if I’d listened things would be different. The whispered explanation brings a new hurt and new guilt.
“Stop it. Stop thinking. Do what I tell you to.” Seth reappears without a glass in hand.
So many years have passed but I still want to please him. I wonder if that will ever change.
“What do you want?” I ask him as calmly as I can. I can still remember the first time I was conscious of that desire. I wanted to please him.
As I watch Seth push the coffee table toward the fireplace, I recall that night.
It was at the old bar, the one my father used to leave me at all the time growing up. And it was just after his funeral. Derrick called me “Babygirl.” Derrick did. I knew him to be a friend of Seth’s. I even liked him. He would look out for me. It was he who welcomed me into the bar to wait for Seth.
I wasn’t Derrick’s Babygirl and my reaction must’ve told him as much. “Oh,” he’d said with a smile. “You want that just for Seth, don’t you?” His question wasn’t teasing, only knowing. At that moment Seth walked in. Everything was chaotic back then, after Vito was killed. Seth’s father was in charge; he hadn’t been murdered yet in the war for that territory. Still, Seth was needed and commanded more than anyone else. It was like his father was grooming him.
Seth came in and needed a beer. Looking distracted, he kept heading to the bar but man after man stopped him. They needed him and he gave them the time they wanted. Those days, he still walked me to and from home at night. Just me, not letting anyone come with us. He made time for me. We hadn’t even kissed, but he liked to touch me when I was around him. He always held my hand, touched my back; he’d run his finger down the back of my neck absently when Derrick talked to him. He hadn’t done a damn thing sexual, but it felt like everything to me that he wanted me near enough to touch. He never made the first move though. Not that quickly after things changed, and not for months later.
I was no one when it came down to it, and he was going to be everything. I could feel it.
I would only be his Babygirl. With that thought in mind, I got a beer for him and put it in his hand as he talked. I wanted to please him, and I had. The way he looked at me, ignoring whoever had been speaking, did something inside of me.
I can feel the same stare now as Seth rounds me years later. He did exactly what I expected him to; he ruled, like the king he was meant to be.
Myself, on the other hand? I wasn’t even strong enough to be his Babygirl.
“Did you sleep last night?” Seth’s question brings my gaze to his, makes me focus on the present.
“Some,” I answer honestly. He doesn’t look in my eyes when he stands in front of me, because he’s focused on my chest. It’s not until his hot touch grips my right breast and my head falls back just slightly that his gaze reaches mine. With his thumb and forefinger, he rolls my nipple and I have to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from moaning out at the sharp pleasure.
“Did you touch yourself?”
“What?” My eyes widen as I betray myself. I know it’s obvious. I’ve never been a good liar.
“You used to. You used to punish me with it too. Taking care of yourself and letting me know you had.” He squeezes my left nipple harder than the right, causing me to lean forward until he pulls back. A wave of pleasure rushes through me, stirring in my belly when he releases his hold.
With my lips parted, I breathe in deeply, sucking in a breath when Seth does it again. Both of my nipples, both at once.
“Look at me,” he commands and I do. Staring into the depths of his eyes as he rolls my nipples between his deft fingers. “Did it feel like this?”
“No,” I answer immediately.
“Did you think of me?” he questions and I hate to admit it, I hate knowing I thought of the good moments with him. All the nights I gave myself completely to him.
I can’t answer verbally, so I only nod.
He plucks them both at once and the hot sensation is linked to my clit. I nearly stumble from the pleasure.
“You’re a bad submissive.” Hearing him say submissive forces a smile to grace my lips. He turns away from me, moving to a chest that sits by the fireplace, just under the painting hung on the wall. Standing there, watching his muscular shoulders, I dare to toy with him. “You’re not my dom.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Babygirl.” He stands up as he breathes out, holding a leather paddle in his right hand and slapping it down on the palm of his left. I instantly clench, feeling how hot and wet I am already. His burning gaze heats my own as he tells me, making his way to me, “Your body knows it. One day you’ll get it through that thick skull of yours.”
My body’s tense with the sight of the paddle. Braided strips of black leather are wrapped around the entire length. His gaze is heated when he tells me to bend over and grab the back of the sofa, but not to rest my knees on the cushion.
It’s awkward to stand like this, since I’m so short. I listen though, knowing full well he plans to use that paddle on my ass.
Thwack! He doesn’t waste any time. The moment both my hands grip the sofa, he spanks me with it. The burning pain ricochets through me, starting at my right ass cheek, and I swear, by the time it returns to my core, it feels like heaven. The pain and pleasure are braided together as tightly as the leather.
Seth takes his time, kicking my clothes out of the way before touching his palm to my heated flesh. He squeezes my sore cheeks and in return, I moan a strangled sound. Leaning my forehead against his sofa, I try to keep still when he smacks my ass with the paddle again.
“Three times,” he tells me before quickly bringing the paddle down again. The pain is more intense this time, the strike unexpected and I scream out in brutal agony as my legs buckle and beg me to brace myself on the cushion of the sofa. I don’t though; balancing on the balls of my feet, I make sure I stay where I am. My face is contorted until the leather slips through my thighs, brushing against my clit. He rocks it, letting the pleasure build as he wraps my hair around his other wrist and pulls back so I can no longer rest on the back of the sofa. “No more touching yourself or all of your punishments will be as hard as that last one was. Understood?”
With my eyes closed, I agree. “Understood.”
He’s never been like this before. Never with me. The control, the patience, I know that is his nature, but this is so much… more.
He releases me too quickly, far before I’m ready to let go and fall from the cliff of my release. The pleasure wanes, the pain of my punishment returns and I find myself needy and turning around to see what he’s doing.
I turn at the perfect moment, seeing him in all his naked glory as he kicks off his pants, the last remaining garment covering him from me. Every inch of his body reminds me of Adonis. He is sex personified. My inhale is sharp when he turns around, and his gaze is narrowed as he tsks me.
“I didn’t say you could turn around,” he scolds me, although the lust in his voice and the desire in his gaze are so clear, it feels nothing like a reprimand.
“You didn’t say I couldn’t,” I argue lustily, setting the side of my head back down, taking him in and letting him know just how much I want him. How much I need him.
“Keep your eyes on me then,” he speaks calmly as he walks behind me. With one hand stroking himself, I can already see the beads of precum at his velvety head. “How many men did you fuck?” he asks and I blink twice, rapidly.
Hesitating, he urges me to answer with his hand splayed on my lower back. He brings his knuckles up my back to my shoulders and then back down.
“It’s been eight years,” I tell him as if that’s an answer. His erection presses between my folds, thick and hard as he rocks against me. The groan he lets out, fuck, I could cum to that sound any night. He bends d
own when I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation. With his hips pressing against my ass and his cock nudging my clit, the pleasure builds again.
“Open your eyes,” he commands, his stubble brushing against my shoulder and I watch as he closes his own and kisses the crook of my neck.
I miss this.
I have dreamed of him doing just this for years.
“How many men did you fuck?” he asks me again, this time in a whisper, his warm breath sending shivers of want down my body.
“Many,” I answer him and remember how none of them compared. How at first it was hard trying to find someone who I could hide my past from, but share my present. Then it was simply about trying to find anyone who could fill a portion of the void.
Seth chuckles, deep and rough, his chest vibrating against my back. “You’re my little slut now.” His comment only makes me hotter for him.
“So tell me, my little whore, how many pricks got to play with what’s mine?”
“Not whore,” I argue, barely able to get out the words as I shake my head against the fabric and practically moan my reply. “Slut.” I repeat the word, clenching around nothing again and imagining him inside of me.
“My little slut,” he whispers and the feel of his warm breath along my skin brings the pleasure closer to the surface, closer to igniting all of me.
“How many pricks got to play with what’s mine?”
I stare back at him, unable to answer as he grips my hair at the back of my neck, still rocking his hips, still playing with me. Still wanting me.
I can’t speak as the pleasure builds.
“You’re not allowed to cum until I know how many times to deprive you. I need to know how many times.”
Defiantly, my back arches as my orgasm rips through me.
Seth stills behind me and I clench against the shaft of his cock. It’s a blinding pleasure. I can barely breathe.
“Ever defying me aren’t you, Babygirl?” Seth scolds me, taking more of my hair in his fist and pulling back when I look away from him. The tight grip sends a stinging pain along my skin, but it only heightens the pleasure.
“Does thinking about being punished get you off?” he asks.
“Thinking that you cared who I fucked… that gets me off.” The admission comes out willingly, easily.
Seth King still wants me. He wants me to be his. That realization comes with one of my own. I want to be his. I’ve been waiting to be his again.
Seth
It takes every ounce of control not to cum with her. Her cheeks are flushed, as pink as her ass where the braided marks have left impressions on her skin. She’s everything I remember and more.
The memories don’t do her justice.
Knowing how easy it was to get her off drives me insane. How much she still wants me, enough to let this strong woman, want to be called my little slut… fuck, I could cum without even entering her.
The fire at my back is nothing compared to the crackling air between us.
“How many?” I question her. Ignoring the screaming rage in my head, demanding she be punished for not listening to me. She wasn’t allowed to get off until I’d punished her for each and every one.
“Not enough,” she answers, her eyes closing but the moment I pull back on her hair, just slightly, just enough to control her, her baby blues sink into mine and she adds, “I tried to fuck the memories of you out of me.”
“Did it work?” With the question lingering between us, my heart slams against my chest, racing to get out of me.
“Not even for a single moment,” she whispers, and the pain creeps back into the depths of her gaze. The longing, the need.
I slam into her, my plan, my control, completely gone. I can’t restrain the need to have her, to take her and make her mine like she ought to be in this moment.
Deep inside of her, to the hilt, I watch as her neck arches, her head falling back with a wretched scream of pleasure. Her cunt spasms around my length, the warmth and heat stroking a desire that forces my balls to draw up. I could let go just like this. Gripping her hair, feeling her curves, hearing her screams and buried deep inside her as she orgasms from the forceful thrust.
A cold sweat breaks out along my skin, every inch of it covered, trembling with the need to move. I wait, letting her adjust, refusing to give in to the baser need.
A second passes, Laura’s body sags and that’s my cue to piston my hips. Control and desperation are at war with one another as I fuck her with complete possession. Pulling her hair back, I whisper along the crook of her neck, “You are mine,” never pausing the steady pace of my thrusts.
The sound of it, of my hips meeting her ass, mixes with the short moans that slip out of her parted lips every time I sink inside of her.
This. I have missed this dearly. I ravage her and nothing has given me more meaning in my life. Harder, faster; I fuck her more and more ruthlessly until Laura’s grip slips, unable to hold on. Letting go of her hair and wrapping my arm around her waist, I shove her to her knees, mine resting just on the outside of hers on the sofa cushion. I don’t miss a beat as she thrashes under me, screaming louder and with a frenzy she can’t control. Even the sound of her nails scratching against the sofa fuels me.
She screams my name. Mine.
“You’re mine,” I remind her. Whispering the heated truth. “You’re mine.”
“Seth,” she begs me, but I haven’t a clue what for. She could beg for anything now, and I wouldn’t stop. I can’t. But when I’d finished, I could have promised her the world, just to keep her under me.
“You’re mine.” The savage words are gritted between my teeth before I rake them down her slender neck. Her lips never close, her screams of pleasures and heavy breathing never pause. Her nails claw down my thigh as she reaches behind her and the hint of pain urges me to fuck her harder and faster.
She’s lost in the pleasure, limp and sated, but on the verge of cumming yet again. Her body trembles with the need but her glazed gaze and whispered pleas prove to me she’s uncertain if she can take it.
“Take it, Babygirl. You. Are. Mine. Take it.” I can’t stop. Not yet.
I can’t let go. Not until she admits it.
I won’t tell her to though. I won’t command her to acknowledge what I deserve to hear.
With both of my hands gripping her hips to keep her upright, she takes it all. For over an hour, I refrain, letting her cum time and time again.
I don’t let go until Laura screams out, pulsing around me, “I’m yours.”
She’s limp on the sofa, her thighs pressed together as she turns from side to side. Her skin is a beautiful pink, her hair a messy halo. She’s a vision of beauty and nothing less. “Mmm,” she moans, biting her bottom lip as she rolls onto her side again, swaying her legs and moving her hands to rest between her thighs.
“Did I break you, Babygirl?” I ask her.
“Hmm,” she breathes, her blue eyes searching for mine when she finally looks up. “Seth? You ruined me long ago.”
Her body trembles, even as she clings to me when I lean down to pick her up. The evidence of her giving into me surrounds us. From the damp spot where she was just laying, to the clothes strewn around the room.
Her cheek rests on my shoulder as I walk down the hallway, to my bedroom. “You’ll stay here tonight.” The statement seems to wake her, to make her more sober than she’s been for the last hour that I’ve had her at my mercy. Her grip slips on me, but I hold her just the same.
With a short intake of breath and a hesitancy in her touch, I expect her to protest. She doesn’t though. She doesn’t do a damn thing when I pull my sheets back, slipping her into the large four post bed and then covering her small body.
“Sleep.” I give her the command and her wide doe eyes stare up at me. The look in them is resistant and questioning, but she’s quiet.
It’s not until I’m leaving the room, until my back is to her and my hand is on the doorknob to close it behind me that she s
peaks up.
“Seth,” she calls out.
“Yes?” I question her, waiting for her defiance so I can shut it down. She will stay here tonight and any other night I want. She’s mine.
“The other notebooks… I brought the photocopies in a file box.” Her voice is clear and I debate whether or not she’ll even be able to sleep until she blinks. It’s slow, sleep longing to keep her eyes shut. When I don’t respond, I simply watch her figure, the moonlight playing with the shadows along her curves under the white comforter. My gorgeous girl. Then she adds, “It’s in my trunk.”
“I’ll get them. Go to sleep.”
She doesn’t agree. She doesn’t protest either. She simply watches me as I close the door, making a mental note to reward her in the morning.
Laura
Even though I’m not there anymore, I can’t help thinking: it’s been a long damn time since I’ve woken up in someone else’s bed. I like to leave in the middle of the night, if I bother staying after a round in the sheets with a man. I only remember staying with one of the guys I’d actually slept with in his bed till morning.
And I never bring them back here. Never. My loft is my safe place.
So as the hot water sprays against my skin, feeling especially brutal against my ass, I think there’s only been one other time, one other guy who I’ve laid in bed next to and slept till morning.
I don’t even remember that poor guy’s name. It was a decent night, but I only stayed because I’d come off a long shift before the date. It was just fine. Everything about every other guy is always… just fine.
Turning around to wash away the soap that’s lathered on my front, I open my mouth and drink some of the hot water. The steam fills the stall and I stare absently at the grayish-blue subway tile. I thought about objecting more than I thought about sleeping when Seth was there, staring at me expectantly. The moment the door closed and I closed my eyes, all I could smell was him. That woodsy, masculine scent that reminds me of home.