by Sierra Cole
I know, I know.
I’m a sucker for punishment, aren’t I?
I guess I take after my mom in that respect, too ...
I push myself up from the edge of my bed and pace listlessly up and down the room, as if perhaps I can somehow out-walk these weird feelings that are bubbling up inside me.
I shoot a glance at the phone, wondering if I should maybe call Helena – ask her for a strong cocktail or a glass of that delicious red wine; just something to try and quiet down these chattering voices in my head.
Because right now I’m worried that he’s already got what he wants from me, and that’s it. I’m yesterday’s news. For all I know, he’s probably out tonight at some bar with his work colleagues, hitting on some leggy waitress ...
And as the hours tick on, and I start to get sleepy, my worst suspicions are confirmed.
Midnight comes and goes, and with a heavy heart, I start to undress again, peeling off these slinky sexy clothes that he never even got to see me in, and then finally slip naked beneath the covers, resting my heavy head sadly against the pillow and letting my eyes droop close, thinking that right now he’s probably out in the city somewhere, looking for another innocent girl to fuck ...
§
Marcus
“Cheer up!” Greg laughs, elbowing me in the ribs, before knocking back another neat scotch.
I lift my own glass to my lips and take a tentative sip. But it’s no use. I’m just not in the mood to get drunk, or to hang around these vacuous assholes for much longer.
It’s at times like this that I realize just how fucking meaningless my life is. All we ever talk about is work – work and women and money. But tonight? Tonight I’m just not in the mood. Tonight I wish I was at home, the home that suddenly feels so alive, so warm, so inviting since she’s been living in it ...
“Oh man,” Greg murmurs, leaning in so close that the whiskey on his breath makes my eyes water. “What I’d give to bang that cocktail waitress. You see her? The brunette on the left with the cute little ass that wiggles when she walks ...”
I nod dismissively, hoping he’ll focus his attention on someone else, but instead his face wrinkles up and the smile drops from his face. “Oh come on, man!” he says. “You didn’t even look at her. What the fuck’s got into you lately? You turning into some kind of fag or something?”
I meet his gaze with an icy cold look of my own. “As if I need to remind you, Greg,” I growl in a low tone low enough that only he can hear me, “it might well be your birthday, but even so, I happen to be your fucking employer and if you give me any more of that shit then that won’t be for much longer. Got it? I only employed you because your daddy asked me to, but there’s only so far that carries you. You understand what I’m saying?”
“Uh, sure, sorry Marcus,” he replies, quickly backing away from me, palms up in surrender, leaving me standing alone at the bar as he joining the rest of the crowd.
But I can tell from the subtle look he gives me before turning away, and the way he’s leaning in to one of the other guys and whispering something, that he’s wondering what in the hell has got into me lately.
And the truth is, I guess I’m wondering that myself.
But then, deep down, I guess I already know the answer.
§
Alisha
At first I don’t know what’s happening, as I wake up not to bright morning sunlight but instead to the darkness of my bedroom, and then a moment later to the feel of hot rough hands on my body, and then lips pressing urgently against my own, the subtle taste of alcohol on his tongue.
As I begin to realize what’s happening, I feel my body respond so powerfully to the touch of this shadowy figure, who seems so intent on taking me, right here and now; and it’s with a shiver of excitement and delight that I realize he has decided to visit me tonight after all.
I push my lips back excitedly against his, and moan softly as I feel his hand pushing its way between my legs, to that place he knows so well now, his fingers cupping the hot and swelling mound that seems to be crying out to him.
“I thought you wouldn’t come,” I whisper with delight, confessing my fears between the passion and urgency of our kisses.
“How could I possibly resist?” he replies, the heat of his breath dancing across my skin as he begins to toy with my right breast with his other hand, and then, a moment later, I feel the delicious heat of his mouth as it closes over my nipple, causing another soft sigh to escape from my lips.
“Oh Marcus,” I whisper, my voice trembling as his tongue flickers against the tingling pink bud. “I’m glad you’re here ...”
“I need you, Alisha,” he whispers, taking his mouth from my skin just long enough to speak before moving his kisses across to my other breast, lavishing just as much attention on that one, too, working me into a shivering state of pleasure beneath him. But then, all of a sudden he gives my nipple a surprisingly hard nip with his teeth – hard enough for me to cry out in surprise. I push myself away from him a little, locking eyes with him.
“That was a demonstration,” he murmurs.
“Whatever do you mean?” I reply.
“There’s something you need to know about me, Alisha,” he continues, his voice dropping to a purr. “Certain things I’d like to do. Certain things, I’d like to explore with you. I want to teach you about the pleasure that can be had from pain Alisha. You see, the human mind is a fascinating thing. Pleasure and pain sit so close together, closer than you’d ever guess, so close in fact that we can have our most delicious moments when the boundary between the two is somewhat blurred. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I gulp, then nod.
“I think so,” I reply.
“And will you let me show you just what I mean?” he continues.
I look at him, at the darkness flashing in those steely blue eyes of his, and I realize that even though I am technically his for the week, he’s still not allowing himself to do anything to me without my express permission. And it’s this realization – that he’s respecting my boundaries – that reassures me. And anyway, I have to admit, I am a little curious to find out what he means, too ...
“Show me, Marcus,” I reply, surprising myself with the sincerity of what I’m saying, so much so that I can hear my voice shaking from a mixture anticipation and excitement. “I want to know what you mean. I want to experience it ...”
A moment later, I gasp in surprise as he swiftly pulls me up from the bed, then throws me roughly across his knee, so that my face is nestled in the sheets and my ass is thrust high in the air, just as if I’m some naughty little girl, being disciplined by her daddy.
It feels as if the whole room is charged suddenly with a heady energy, as I wait for him to do whatever he might do to me.
Surely he’s not actually about to spank me like some naughty little kid?! I think to myself, my breath clutched tightly in my throat. I mean, I’d heard of people doing things like that, but really? Marcus? That’s what he’s into?
But even as I’m still thinking this last thought, all of a sudden, sure enough, he brings his hand down hard on the tender flesh of my ass, the loud sharp crack of his palm against my skin reverberating all around the quiet of the bedroom, the only other sound being the soft little cry of surprise that escapes my lips.
“How did you like that?” he asks, the playful tone still there in his voice, mixed in with something else – something primal, animal even. “Want another?”
My skin is still singing in pain from the shockingly powerful way he’d slapped it, but it’s the weirdest thing, because as I think carefully about his question, it turns out that I really do want another slap of his hand against my ass.
“Yes,” I say quietly, my voice just a trembling whisper now, yet at the same time utterly sincere. “Yes, Marcus, I do.”
“Very well,” he replies gravely, the room once again seeming to descend into silence for a trembling moment before exploding into life in a sh
arp chorus of pain and pleasure, as I feel his hand strike my tender flesh for a second time, and I hear the crack flash loudly around the room.
And this time, after his hand has struck my ass, I feel his rough fingers slip between my legs from behind, teasing my opening with his hot thick fingertips, causing me once again to moan and shiver, laid across his knee, as he drives his fingers a little further, a little deeper inside me. But just as I feel that delicious bubbling sensation begin to build in my stomach, he pulls his fingers away, and then ... Crack.
He slaps my ass again a third time, even harder than before, causing me to cry out, my mind flashing white from the sheer force of this strange new sensation. Because it’s not just pain, but it’s not just pleasure, either. Instead it’s a crazy mixture of the two, one that creates a brand new third sensation – just the same as last night when he’d first taken me, and just like he’d suggested.
And while a part of me is crying out for more, soon enough he’s pushed me roughly from his knee and onto the silk bed sheets. I move to turn onto my back in order to face him, but at this he stops me in place, holding me there by the nape of the neck as if I were a naughty kitten.
“Stay exactly where you are,” he commands, that strange animalistic quality still there in his voice.
And I do just as he says, staying exactly where I am, sprawled upon the silk sheets, my face nestled in the pillows, my bare ass exposed to the room, as behind me I can hear him unzipping his pants with his free hand.
Just then I feel his fingers move again between my legs, roughly grazing the tender folds of my pussy, moving back and forth, even pushing a little ways into me like that, before he pulls away his hand, and then, climbing up onto the bed behind me he begins to press the swollen hotness of his cock right against my opening from behind.
There’s a pause, as I hear him groan and strain behind me, and then a moment later, I gasp as I feel myself stretching so damn wide for him, his hot thickness slipping so fucking deep inside me.
He shifts position slightly, so that I feel the full broadness of his back covering me now, his hot breath against my neck, my face still buried in the sheets, my whimpers and sighs stifled by the scrap of silk that I’ve pinched between my teeth, as I feel his hands clamp down on my thighs, spreading me beneath him so that he can ease himself even further inside me.
Again, I feel it: that weirdly-good mixture of pleasure and pain as he begins to slide his hot cock slowly in and out of my pussy, causing the most delicious sensations to swirl and churn inside me with each fresh thrust of his hips – pumping his cock ever harder and deeper inside me.
Soon I’ve lost all shame and embarrassment, writhing and thrashing and crying out beneath him, lost totally in my own pleasure, not caring who might hear my cries and moans, cries and moans that must be echoing all around this house as he plunders my pussy with his cock, and in a rush I feel my whole body bubbling over, and just like that I’m coming, hard, so hard I can’t help but let out a cry – a low, animal cry, my mind flashing white from the sheer force of my orgasm, my whole slender body shuddering and trembling beneath him. And just as I’m recovering, I feel him fall forward onto me, pinning me beneath him as he too cries out, his whole body shuddering, and deep inside me, even through the thin rubber that encases his cock, I can feel the heat and pulse of his come.
A moment later, he shifts off me, pushing himself up beside me on the sheets and drawing me towards him, turning me around and feverishly pressing his lips against mine, and I tremble again, though this time from a much more gentle feeling that floods my heart – a feeling of simple happiness and warmth ...
Perhaps even ... love?
Is that totally crazy?
That I can feel something so deep, so soon for this man I hardly know?
I feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth while we’re still kissing, and a moment later I have to pull my face away from his to let out the silly little laugh that’s been building inside me for the last few seconds.
“What’s so funny?” he murmurs.
“It’s nothing,” I reply in a whisper. “I’m just happy, that’s all.”
But instead of answering, I watch that coldness suddenly clamping down on him again, just like the other night, encircling him completely – and just like that I know exactly what’s going to happen next.
Sure enough, he turns back to me, his eyes cold and blank now, and says quietly, “I should go. I have a lot to do tomorrow.”
I stay silent, biting on my lip, too scared to speak in case I embarrass myself with any more of my silly girlish talk.
I fight back the tears as I watch him quickly gather his things and then leave, determined not to show him just how hurt I am.
But as he goes, I feel my heart break just a little.
Marcus
Thank God. I’m so glad that tonight I can finally finish work at a reasonable hour. And before I leave, I take a moment to double check my schedule for the remainder of the week. Fantastic. Nothing pressing, just a couple of lunch meetings. I’m finally free ...
I race towards the elevator, trying to ignore the weird feeling I have in my stomach. I can’t quite explain it, but it’s a feeling I haven’t known for years and years ... Since I was a kid in fact. A feeling that I almost can’t put into words.
Just as I’m pressing the button to summon the elevator, I hear a familiar voice behind me.
“Hey, hold the doors!”
I turn around. It’s Greg. Again.
Goddammit.
I fight back the urge to just race off without him and force myself to keep the doors held for him. We both step inside the quiet of the elevator, and he quickly turns to me and lays a hand on my shoulder.
“Hey, sorry about last night,” he says, as I’m jabbing at the button for the ground floor.
“Don’t mention it,” I reply quietly.
“So,” he continues, “you bringing a date to the ball tomorrow night?”
“The what?” I say, turning to look at him.
“The charity ball,” he grins back. “The ball for the charity you set up. You can’t possibly have forgotten that! You’re making the big speech.”
I groan inwardly – the ball. Of course.
I had forgotten, and as usual, Julia had probably been too busy surfing Facebook or whatever the hell it is she does all day at her desk to add it into my weekly schedule. Probably because it was arranged so damn long ago.
Why the hell did I ever agree to give a speech, I think to myself with annoyance. But then I think again about the charity and know that it’s only right for me to represent it. If only it was any other week ...
Just then the elevator reaches the ground floor, and by the time I step out into the lobby, I can already see my driver, Trent, waiting outside with the Bentley.
“Well, see you tomorrow, Buddy,” Greg says, punching me playfully on the arm before heading off towards the doors.
I hold back, pausing for a moment to look around me at the huge marble lobby, and then back at that gleaming car, waiting for me outside – polished to perfection, engine purring, driver waiting patiently for me to arrive – and marvel again that this is all mine, that I built this whole business up from scratch.
But even though it’s pretty damn impressive, it still leaves me feeling kind of ... hollow.
I shake off the feelings, focusing again on that other feeling – the one that’s still burbling away, deep down in my stomach as I think about tonight – how I finally have a whole night with her ahead of me.
I guess you could call it excitement. Excitement and happiness.
Damn.
I really do need to get my feelings under control, don’t I?
§
Alisha
Here I am, having a candlelit meal with Marcus, but for some reason I just can’t bring myself to enjoy it. I’ve spent the whole of today feeling so out of sorts. This morning, for instance, I wandered around this huge house, and explored the groun
ds too – the private swimming pool, the tennis courts, the acres of bright green sculpted gardens – but I just couldn’t relax, no matter what I did, and ended up spending practically the whole afternoon holed up in my room again instead.
It’s like there’s this brick, sitting there at the pit of my stomach – this horrible heaviness, weighing me down, pinning me in place, as I think all over again just what I’ve done, and what I’ve lost – something no amount of money can ever bring back ...
My virginity.
“Are you okay, Alisha?” Marcus asks, looking up at me from across the table.
And I know in that moment that I just can’t hide it anymore. I need to say this, even if it costs me everything.
“No, I’m not,” I reply. “I ...”
I pause.
Am I really about to say it?
“I just don’t think I can do this anymore,” I blurt out, feeling the hot sting of tears welling up in the corners of my eyes.
He puts down his fork, then reaches out for my hand across the table, covering it with his own for a moment. But I quickly yank my hand away and into the safety of my lap, feeling my heart begin to hammer as hard as hell as the realization of what I’m about to do well and truly sinks in.
Because with these words, I’m about to kiss goodbye to a whole possible other life: I’m about to kiss goodbye to one million dollars ...
“I’m not a whore, Marcus,” I say in an almost whisper. “And if I take your money at the end of this week, then that makes me one, doesn’t it?”
To my surprise, he shakes his head.