by Measha Stone
“Go on.”
“I was argumentative, and I didn’t give you my phone when you asked for it.”
“Oh, you didn’t just not give it to me. You threw it into the back of the car, and then you dove back there to get it. Isn’t that right?” The sound of his belt buckle being undone echoed his question.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” He paused, the leather belt halfway through the loops already.
“Sir! Yes, Sir,” she corrected quickly when his booted feet approached her again.
“Better.” He placed his hand flat on her back. She closed her eyes, knowing it was coming but not sure if she could stand to see it, just as the belt lashed across her thighs.
She jumped up, or at least she tried to. His hand pushed her back down and he brought the belt across her ass again and again. A steady pace to the whipping didn’t make it easier to handle. She hopped from foot to foot, as though the little dance could do anything to escape the fire-breathing belt or to ease the burn in her flesh.
He kept his hand on her back, holding her in place as he worked his way up from her thighs to the top of her ass, then made his way back down to her thighs.
“Oh! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she cried out, tears dripping from her eyes to the carpet in front of her. “I’m so sorry!” Her hands wrapped around the wood horse, but she couldn’t get up with his resistance keeping her down.
“Learn from this, kitten. I don’t accept disobedience or disrespect. And while you’re under my protection, you’ll obey every rule, every direction, every order or you’ll pay the price.” He annunciated each dictate with another stripe of the belt. “Now. About your disobedience just a few minutes ago with using my name.”
“Oh, gawd, please,” she sobbed. Her ass throbbed. A pain unlike anything she’d ever felt before pulsated through her flesh. Her rapid breathing burned her lungs, her eyes hurt from crying, and her mouth dried from screaming. And she screamed with each new lick of the belt. But he stopped now, no rubbing or comfort coming from him as he stepped back from her.
She didn’t move to get back up, even when she heard the jangling of his belt buckle as he put it back in place.
“Kneel in front of me,” he ordered.
Pushing up from the bench, every muscle in her body ached. She wiped her hair from her face, strands sticking to the tear tracks left behind, and folded her body down to her knees before him.
“Open your pretty mouth for me.” Another order given. The sound of his zipper being undone punctuated it.
She gazed up at him; he still had a firm set of his jaw. The tension hadn’t eased off yet.
“You said—”
“I said you weren’t getting any satisfaction. Said nothing about me. Since you used my name when you weren’t supposed to, I’m washing your mouth out.” He pulled his cock free of his pants, wrapping his hand around the thick base and stroking himself slowly.
“Most guys use soap,” she whispered, unable to keep her sights off the long dick in front of her.
“I’m not most guys. No more talking, open up and stick your tongue out.”
Scraping her teeth over her bottom lip was the only hesitation she gave before prying open her lips and putting her tongue out as he demanded.
He stepped forward, running the round, glistening head of his cock over her tongue before he shoved it fully inside her mouth. She gagged as he hit her throat, trying to push away from him, but he held her head in place. He pulled back enough for her to take in a breath before thrusting back inside.
“Swallow, kitten,” he ordered when his cock pushed back her tongue and went down her throat. She struggled, but focused enough to work her throat muscles, making it a bit easier to take him.
He used her mouth hard, unrelenting. She held on to his thighs, gripping his jeans in her hands as he moved across her tongue. A grunt erupted from his chest, and his cum burst from his cock, spilling onto her tongue. He pulled back just enough to keep the salty, warm liquid from slipping down her throat.
“Hold it,” he ordered through his clenched teeth. “Do not swallow it.”
As the last drop of his orgasm unleashed, he pulled free of her mouth. Quickly, he tucked himself away and righted his clothing. “Hold it,” he ordered again while he buckled his belt.
She was no newbie when it came to swallowing a man’s ejaculate, but she’d never held it on her tongue before. Feeling it start to move, she curled her tongue to keep it in place. Her hands fisted in her lap, her eyes pleaded with him to let her rid herself of it.
“Tongue out, and don’t you dare drop any of it.” He squatted down in front of her.
With extreme care she stuck her tongue out, curling it again and tilting her head back when she thought she’d spill.
“If you use my name again before you have my permission, it will be something much less appetizing then my cum on your tongue.” He flicked the name tag dangling on her collar. “Swallow.”
She gulped it down and licked her lips.
“Now, crawl to the crate. There’s a pillow inside, you’ll be comfortable enough for your nap. When you wake up, we’ll go over your papers.”
The urge to argue danced in her chest. But then she moved and remembered the pain in her ass. She was tired enough; she could sleep anywhere. And if it would clean the slate with him, she’d take her nap in the damn crate.
Once she crawled onto the large black pillow, she heard the metallic click of the door shutting. She wouldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. Not like this. Not locked in a damn crate, so she curled up on the pillow and closed her eyes.
He left her alone in the room. She heard him puttering around in the kitchen. He had said she had another lesson coming. Did he mean to spank her again? How long would she have to stay in the crate?
But the pressing question. Why did she wish he’d come back in and fuck her senseless?
Chapter Nine
John sat at the kitchen table with a cup of water listening to the sounds coming from the back room. It had been an hour since he left his naughty kitten in her crate, and in that hour he’d relived her spanking, her cock sucking over at least a dozen times. He had expected a fight when he punished her, when he ordered her to hold his cum on her tongue, but she had surprised him. The spanking had eased her, sent her into a submissive state.
It didn’t surprise him to see her melt beneath his dominance, but it had been her first punishment. She’d taken more stern lashings than he originally intended, but when he recognized her submissive response from his hand spanks he knew he could—and should—go harder with his belt. It was a tricky thing to spank a submissive who enjoyed the pain play aspect. The pain needed to be rationed, not too little as to not make an impression, but only a hair more than she would enjoy during a play session.
She responded beautifully to his displeasure, he could see it in her eyes when she knelt before him. His irritation with her sat heavily with her. Good. No. Fucking perfect. His kitten. And for the time being, she was exactly that—his.
Julie had woken; he could hear her twisting and turning around in her crate. A few grumbles and a heavy sigh made him smile. She hadn’t called out to him; that was a good sign. He still needed to teach her a lesson in patience and obedience, but he needed to ask her a few questions about her mother first. Kat’s brother, Chris, would be able to do some digging for him while he kept Julie safe at the cabin, but he needed to give him a direction to go.
John walked into the back room with a bottle of water. She was on her hands and knees, facing the door, looking up at him with her large caramel eyes. Her cheeks were flushed from her nap, and her messy hair framed her face. The tears from her punishment dried, leaving thin streaks down her cheeks. Holy fuck, she was gorgeous.
“I thought you might be thirsty.” He squatted down in front of the crate. Her thin fingers wrapped around the bars.
“Let me out, J—Sir. Please.” The quick correction saved her from a
mouthful of hot sauce, but he wouldn’t comment.
“Not yet, kitten.”
He uncapped the bottle and held the opening between the bars.
“It won’t fit.” She frowned, trying to grab the bottle.
Oh, she’s sweet.
“Drink,” he ordered and began to tilt the bottle.
Realizing what he wanted, she put her mouth between the bars, and he poured the cool water into her mouth. Trickling the water so she could swallow and not choke, he continued until he figured she had enough and removed it. She wiped away the spillage on her chin with the back of her wrist.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“Turn around for me. I want to see your ass.” He gestured with his finger to show what he wanted.
The blush of her cheeks deepened. “Why? Just let me out and you can look.” She had a good point, but this wasn’t about efficiency.
“Turn around, kitten.” He deepened his voice to get her moving along.
With a small eye roll that he would let slide this one time, she walked her hands and knees around until her ass faced the door of the crate.
“Back up,” he ordered when he reached through the bars with his fingers and couldn’t quite touch her skin. She had a large bruise on the right ass cheek, but the redness had all but faded from the rest of her skin.
She grumbled but complied and he ran his fingers over the bruise. “Skin didn’t break, good.” Her body position didn’t allow for any modesty, her pussy displayed before him. The plump lips of her sex fell open with her movement, giving him a glimpse at the wetness of her pussy.
“Okay, out you go.” He quickly stood up, readjusted his erection in his jeans, and pulled up on the handle to unlock the crate. “No, no, just like that. Back out,” he corrected when she started to turn around again.
“For shit’s sake,” she mumbled as she obediently crawled backward out of the crate.
“Now. If you think you can be a good girl, you may stand up and walk to the kitchen so we can go over those papers while we have something to eat.”
“What trouble can I really get into eating?” she asked with a curl to her lips. Oh, he had no doubt she could cause all sorts of trouble no matter what activity she participated in.
“Just watch it,” he warned, helping her to her feet and gesturing to the kitchen.
“My clothes?” she asked, pointing at the skirt and t-shirt abandoned on the ottoman.
His first reaction was to deny her, but they actually did need to get through those papers and he needed some answers. Watching her breasts sway with each movement or noticing the curvature of her ass when she stood would be more distraction than necessary.
“No panties or bra, only the shirt and skirt. I’m making sandwiches.” He left her to cover up her delectable body to make the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
After placing their plates on the table beside the stack of papers he’d retrieved from the car while she napped, he grabbed another bottle of water for himself.
“Peanut butter?” she asked with a scrunched-up face.
“Allergic?” he asked; he normally would have asked before, but he’d never found himself locked away in his cabin for anything other than mutual play. The situation with Julie was a bit different than he was used to with women.
“No. Just not a fan.” The chair scraped against the linoleum flooring when she pulled it back to sit.
“Too bad for you then.” He laughed. “Kitchen’s a little bare at the moment.” He spread out the credit card statements she had in her stack. “I looked over these, but I’m not sure what significance there is. A few charges to some clothing stores but mostly liquor stores.”
Julie pulled the latest statement toward her and pointed at one transaction. “This is the one that doesn’t make sense. My mom’s an alcoholic and an addict, so the liquor stores make sense to me, but this one is weird. She spent a hundred dollars at a pharmacy. Then again, she did it here and here.” Julie pointed to the five different transactions on the same day.
“She could be making purchases for a cook. Maybe snagging the Sudafed, but there’s regulations on that now. She’d be logged with her license.” John pulled another statement from the month prior and found several more drug store transactions, smaller amounts but more frequent.
“Mom’s an addict, but she wouldn’t get involved with cooking meth. She didn’t even do meth, more into painkillers and coke if she had the money for it. Never meth.” Julie’s expression held steady. Like she was telling him her mother’s preference for donuts over Danish.
“How long?” he asked.
Julie looked up at him then back at the statements with a shake of her head. “Always. She dried out a few times, but it was always there. She’s never disappeared before though. I’ve always been able to find her or get a hold of her.”
“When did you move out of her apartment? You said before she got worse when you moved out.” John sat back in his seat, watching her pore over the statements, looking for something she wouldn’t find. He had a damn good idea what those purchases meant, but his kitten wasn’t ready to hear it.
“I moved out two years ago. I mean, at twenty-five I couldn’t really be babysitting her all the time, right?” She didn’t look at him, just shifted the papers around the table. “She was always coming home drunk or so stoned she couldn’t do much else but get into bed. If she managed to get that far. She kept telling me I needed to live my own life, that I shouldn’t have to take care of her. She wanted to protect me, and I gave up fighting. I just gave up.” John put a hand on her arm, careful of her injury, silencing her.
“It’s not your fault that she can’t get a handle on this. It’s a disease, and you don’t have the cure.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like she was abusive. I mean, she never hurt me, she didn’t know I existed most of the time. But at least she came home, she ate because I had food for her, she had clean clothes, a decent place to live. After I left, everything went to shit.” Julie leaned back in her chair, snatching up her sandwich and taking a large bite, still completely avoiding looking in his direction.
“So, what, you were supposed to stick around forever? Make sure she took a shower now and then, clean her up so she could go out and do it all over again?” He’d seen his fair share of family members blaming themselves for the crap their drug-addicted child or spouse did. The if only I had conversations never brought any sort of closure or positive change to a situation; it only kept the family member buried in unnecessary guilt.
“No, well, I don’t know. All I know is after I moved out she got worse. And now she’s just gone.” Julie bit on the nail of her middle finger.
John reached over the table and tugged her hand out then pulled out the police records Julie had with her. “She’s been arrested several times for solicitation, is that how she gets her money? I’m assuming she doesn’t have a steady job?”
Julie sighed. She’d been tired before because of the strain of taking a whipping, but now it was deeper. This was emotional exasperation, and he wondered if she ever had a break from being the one taking care of her mother.
“I need a smoke.” She got up from the table.
“I tossed them,” John said before she could make her way out of the kitchen.
“You what?” Her eyes narrowed.
“I went into your jacket to see what else you had with you. I took the knife, it’s on the counter there, and the pack of cigarettes was all smashed and broken. Probably from your little maneuver in the car.” He paused to raise his eyebrow and wait for a rebuttal. “So, I tossed them. You don’t need them.”
She took a deep breath. “That wasn’t your call.”
“Look. When we go into town, we’ll pick you up some if you think you really need them, but this is the first time you’ve even asked for one since last night. Just try to keep your mind focused, okay?” He patted the spot at the table for her to sit back down. If he distracted her enough, she might be able to
fight off any craving she had.
Even looking like she wanted to rip his head off, she was beautiful. With a huff she sat down.
“I don’t think she was prostituting herself. I mean, she never did that before. She was more of a partier. Would hook up with some people and have a good time. I don’t really know how she got her money. Or how she’s managed to pay rent.” She swallowed hard and let out another ragged breath. “I was trying to force her into cleaning up, acting like an adult, but the exact opposite happened.”
John eyed her silently for a long moment, until she raised her eyes to meet his.
“We’ll find her,” he promised. If it meant calling in every favor, he would help her find her mother. And then he’d help her get the help she needed. Julie would not be dealing with this mess on her own any longer. “But you need to start thinking about the possibility she has hooked up with a bunch of guys making and selling the shit she’s addicted to.”
Julie shook her head. “No. She wouldn’t do that. It’s not like she enjoys her addiction.”
John let it drop for the moment. But eventually she would need to see what was right in front of her. “I wasn’t suggesting she likes it. I’m suggesting she might be doing anything in order to keep on getting the drugs—” He stopped short and picked up the billing statements again. “These all have your name listed, not hers. Are these your credit cards?”
Her cheeks reddened. “She has no job; how could she have credit? It’s her card, I mean she’s listed. It’s my account, but I gave her the card.”
“Okay, well, the first thing I think we do is turn off her card. That might at least get her to call you.”
Julie pushed away the last of her sandwich. “If she has no money, she might not have a place to stay.”
John shook his head. “I have a feeling she’s crashing with people. Let’s just do this first and see if it draws her out.” Sliding his hand across the table, he gave her hand a squeeze. “We’ll figure this all out. Where she is and how she plays into that apartment.”