Please, Sir

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

“Awake now, my lazy pet,” he says.

  “Dar, you didn’t really want me to run with you. You know how frustrating it ends up for both of us.”

  “Wouldn’t have asked you, Tess, if I didn’t want your company,” he replies, extending an arm from behind the wall of glass.

  I walk toward him and he steps out of the water just far enough to grab me and pull me in.

  “Dar, no, no, I’m in my robe,” I say, realizing by now it’s a moot point, it’s soaked, I’m soaked and I don’t care.

  He lifts me and presses my back hard against the marble wall, still cool despite the heated water. My legs, crossed at the ankles, are tight around his waist. His hands are flat against the wall, my fingers interlaced together behind his neck. My chin falls into the hollow of his shoulder, my tongue trailing up to his ear, licking up the plump water droplets that define my path. I feel his cock stiffening against my pelvis and thoughts of him buried inside me make me nearly feral. I bite harder than I’d planned into his soft earlobe. He doesn’t jerk away; he doesn’t even move, but he whispers words that I barely have time to comprehend, “So you want to play rough, Tess?” before he’s pushed me tighter against the wall with his hips. One of his large hands guides his cock into my ready cunt. A deep sigh, of relief, of satisfaction, is the last sound I make before both his hands are on my neck.

  Fixing me in his dark gaze, his deep voice speaks softly, nearly drowned out between the dual cascades of water and the pulse beating a steady rhythm in my ears, “You should know by now, Tess, I repay pain with pain.”

  Even as his hands tighten on my throat, I can’t take my eyes off his. I’m not sure what I hope to see in his stare. Sometimes he can go so cold that even while his eyes are fixed on mine, I know he’s looking beyond me, looking somewhere into the darkness that resides so close to the edge of his surface civility. And sometimes, like now, I know he’s watching me intently to gauge my reaction, and, as my breathing gets more and more impaired as he cuts off my respiration, to determine when to stop.

  My fingers unlace, slide free of one another, desperately clutching at his neck. Somewhere in my oxygen-depleted brain, I know I’ll have left deep crescent-shaped indentations and scratches where I claw at him. I’m terrified, and my mind won’t stop shouting, Not safe, this is not safe, you could die, he would never let you die, no, not safe, stop. But I have no breath, I can’t speak. My communication is limited to what he reads in my eyes and the pressure of my nails on his slick skin. When I have no air at all each thrust inside me feels even more intense. I know I could come; I feel the muscles in my cunt tightening around him, squeezing his erection as hard as my fingers dig into his neck. The lack of breath, the heat, his stare, the sensation of his cock hitting hard against my cervix, all these combined make me woozy, delirious. I can’t breathe. How long has it been? Not safe, not safe, not safe, my brain shrieks.

  Then, his eyes drift from mine for a moment and his words enter my ear and echo in my head: “My breath will be the first air you taste, bitch. Come now; come when you feel my lips on yours. Come.”

  Dark brown eyes focus on mine again as his lips meet mine. My muscles pulsate wildly around his cock, squeezing him with a pressure that surpasses his on my throat. My eyelids flutter, my head falling back against the slick marble wall. The tight grip he has on my neck relents and as I gasp for air, his breath, seeming to have more substance than is possible, enters my mouth and fills my lungs. The return of my air feels like a gift he’s bestowed upon me.

  And with that returned air, my body goes limp, the combination of fear, stress and orgasm leaving me too spent to even cling to him any longer. He holds me up a few moments longer before allowing me to slide down the marble wall, making sure my legs will support me before releasing his hold. Against the wall, as I’ve been all along, I’m out of the direct spray from the showerhead, getting wet from the water that ricochets off Dar’s body. With my robe open and slipping off my shoulders, I step into the stream, letting the water rain hard upon my upturned face. My thin sodden robe feels so weighty now that I slide it off my shoulders. Transfixed for a moment, I watch the water swirling rapidly down the drain.

  Looking up, I see him watching me. “Oh, god, Dar,” I whimper hoarsely, my throat still sore from the pressure.

  “How appropriate that the first word you speak, spoken with my breath, should be god,” he says. His face gives away nothing, impassive and utterly calm, as if he’s entirely serious, but we both know that anytime he refers to himself as god, it will spur my irreverence.

  “Yes, love, I exist solely because of you, for you,” I reply with an eye roll any teenage girl would envy.

  He pins me with a cool, dark glare, one that makes me think perhaps I’ve overstepped my bounds, before his large hands meet my shoulders and push me back against the wall once more.

  “I don’t think I can go through that again. Please, Dar, not right now,” I say, in hopes of earning his compassion.

  His face, so stern a moment ago, is now smiling, “Oh, yes, pet,” he says, as he sinks to his knees, thick fingers opening my puffy folds, “I fully intend to take your breath away again.”

  LONG TIME GONE

  Heidi Champa

  The card had come in the mail weeks before, and I had ignored it. It had been ten years since graduation, and I had no desire to return and see what everyone was up to. The people I wanted to see, I saw. The rest, I avoided, like normal people do. But, despite my better judgment, I decided to attend anyway. Hell, it was free drinks and food. I would stay for a few hours and head home no worse for wear.

  If I was honest, there was only one person I wanted to see there. One face, staring back at me from across the room. Even as I filled out the card to RSVP to the event, I knew there was little chance of that happening. Ethan was the last person I expected to see at a cheesy college reunion.

  I had unofficially met Ethan soon after arriving at school, barely exchanging a few words. It was his touch that hooked me. From the outside, it looked incidental. As I stood on the outskirts of the group, I didn’t notice a handcart full of books headed my way. I was too busy staring at him. Ethan pulled me out of the way, never missing a beat. His rough hands dug into my arms, and on one bicep, there was a thumb-shaped bruise the next day. I was fascinated. The tiny pinch of pain I felt every time I touched it caused my stomach to tighten and my heart to flutter. No kiss, no hand-holding had ever given me such a thrill. The bruise took over my mind. If a simple touch could leave me marked, what could he do if he really meant it?

  We didn’t speak until we wound up in the same Shakespeare class. He was older and cooler than all the boys I knew. I found myself staring at him all the time, willing him to turn and cast a glance my way. Finally, he did, out of the blue one day. No single glance had ever melted me more. I sat there, trying to maintain my composure. While I was listening to our professor lecture on the early pages of Macbeth, Ethan turned and glanced at me over his shoulder. His brown eyes bored into me, sending electricity all through my body. Several more times during the lecture, he stole looks. By the time I walked out, my panties were wet and I wanted to throw myself at him. Sense prevailed, at least for the time being. Soon enough, Ethan was talking to me. It couldn’t be defined as meaningful conversation, but it served to stoke the desire I had for him. It wasn’t until he touched me again that I truly understood what he did to me.

  Our courtship was unconventional from the very start. There were no dates to speak of. The first time Ethan followed me to my room after class, there wasn’t even a conversation. In mere seconds after his arrival, his hands were up my shirt, teasing my nipples. We made out on my bed for hours. He pinned my arms down as he sucked my neck, leaving my first hickey behind as evidence of his visit. More bruises followed from his strong and powerful hands, some on my legs, some on my arms, his fingers leaving evidence of his desire all over my body.

  Things progressed quickly, at least the physical things. Our talks were short and per
functory, just enough to keep things honest. But I couldn’t recall one serious conversation that Ethan and I had shared. It was just part of a long list of things I couldn’t recall. I did remember the first time I realized I would do anything he told me to do.

  He had called to say he’d be coming to my room. He wanted me to be ready, but I got caught up studying, and I failed to be waiting on my bed when he arrived. My eyes widened behind my glasses when I saw his face. There was an intensity behind his eyes I had never experienced before. He walked toward me, grabbed the pen out of my hand and took the glasses from my face. Sliding my chair back hard, he pulled me up by my hand and led me toward the bed. Without a clue what would happen next, my heart was pounding as he pulled me hard across his lap. My pants and panties were down to the floor before a sound could come out of my mouth in protest.

  “I told you to be ready when I got here. What were you doing?”

  I swallowed hard as I hesitated to answer his question. Before I had formed the words in my throat, I felt it—the rush of air heading toward my exposed ass, the surge of heat and pain that jolted through me as his hand hit my skin with more force than I had ever experienced. The sound echoed off the walls, the crack slowly dissipating into the cement block that surrounded us.

  “What were you doing?” His voice was deeper this time, making me shake, not with fear but with anticipation of what was to come.

  “Studying. I was studying.” The words tumbled out of my mouth, my breath ragged and fast. His hand rubbed lightly over my flesh. It felt so hot, alive. I was aware, for the first time, of how wet my cunt was. The lips were rubbing together, slick with the moisture a single strike of his hand had caused. His fingers teased me, but I needed more. I was waiting for more.

  “Being ready for me doesn’t mean studying. It means being in this bed and being wet. I specifically asked you to be naked. Didn’t I?”

  Again I hesitated. Part of me did it on purpose, to see if I could elicit the same response. I did. The second spank was as hard as the first, sending my moans ringing through the room. He followed it quickly with two more slaps on my now-burning flesh. The pain mixed with the swirling pleasure in my mind, and I knew in that moment I wanted more. I wanted him to spank me again and again. I felt another rush of air, and I closed my eyes, waiting for the next hit. But instead, he stopped before he hit me, choosing instead to run a finger down the crack of my ass. My skin felt bright red, the blood close to the surface trying to escape.

  The gentle stroke of his finger lulled me until I relaxed. Just as I did, he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back hard. His face was next to mine, his breath sweet and moist on my face.

  “You like that, don’t you? You like it when I spank you.”

  “Yes. I like it.” I couldn’t lie. There was no way I could tell him I didn’t love it. But he already knew; he just wanted to make me say it out loud. To me, my words rang just as loudly against the walls as the spanks had. Never in my life did I imagine I would admit to something like that.

  “I could tell from the moment I saw you that you needed it. You walk around just begging for it. The first time I looked at that ass, I knew I needed to spank it.” His fingers found their way to my dripping cunt, sliding inside without a moment of resistance. As he fingered me, he went back to work, spanking my ass in a syncopated rhythm while his fingers stayed steady and slow. The pain blurred so perfectly with the pleasure, mixing into such a heady cocktail of need inside me. Just when I thought I couldn’t take one more hit, he stopped, his hand still in midair.

  “Get up and take off your shirt.” I stood, shaky on my feet, and removed my shirt. He stood in front of me, his hands sliding over my skin, missing my nipples completely. His hands pushed down on my shoulders until I was kneeling in front of him. I waited for him to give me his cock, but instead his fingers, wet from my pussy, slid into my mouth. Ethan made me suck each of his three fingers clean, smirking as I licked myself off his thick digits. His hands once again grabbed my hair, tugging until I had to cry out with the pain of it.

  “From now on, you’ll do what I say, won’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Say it again.”

  “Yes. I’ll do what you say.”

  He pulled on my hair harder. In that moment, with my mouth agape, his cock slid inside my mouth, silencing me.

  Ethan fucked me so hard that day, I could barely stand after he left. My ass went black and blue for three days. My wrists bore the red marks of the scarves he’d used to tie me to the bed. I walked around all over campus with the badge of Ethan on me. No one ever knew what went on in that room. Or that it went on for years after that. I dated other guys, fooled around. But Ethan was the only one who really knew what I wanted.

  The night of the reunion was exactly as I expected. A random banquet room, filled with mostly strange faces. The few people I recognized made quick work of finding me, despite my hiding near a corner. After twenty minutes of useless mingling, I saw him across the room, looking just as good as he ever had. Ethan. He wasn’t an old boyfriend. He wasn’t even a friend. He was the best fuck I had ever had, the only guy who ever gave me what I truly wanted and needed. He was right across the room, sipping beer and talking to some nameless stranger. His eyes scanned the room, moving right over me and not even stopping. Just like before, just like the old days, he was going to ignore me until he was good and ready to see me.

  In that ballroom, Ethan was a mythical figure surrounded by mere mortals. I still couldn’t believe my eyes. I willed him to look at me, just like I had in that class. I knew he had seen me, but his eyes never locked on mine. I clutched my wineglass and followed him all over the room with my gaze. Finally, after more schmoozing and laughter, Ethan turned and faced me. His eyes burned into mine, and the rest of the room seemed to drift away. He didn’t smile, didn’t even register my face. But, I knew. I knew he remembered me.

  My heart nearly stopped as he strode toward me, and I tried my best to act casual. Sipping my drink and looking away, I felt Ethan brush against me. I expected him to keep going, but he stopped, pretending to look at an old yearbook next to me on the table. I felt him press something into my hand, and I flooded with heat as he walked away, leaving the scent of his cologne behind. I couldn’t breathe. Finding the bathroom, I went into and locked the stall, finally feeling safe enough to open my hand and see what Ethan had given me. It was a plastic room key and a tiny piece of paper. I unfolded it, and read: Room 1534, 15 minutes. My body shuddered. Ethan wanted me in his room in fifteen minutes. Detouring back to the reunion, I quickly downed two shots of vodka. I needed a little courage, even though I was desperate for this moment. It had been so long since I had felt Ethan’s touch, so long since I had found anyone who was willing to give me exactly what I needed. With Ethan, I didn’t need to tell him. I strode to the elevator, trembling and quaking inside, my face already flushed with excitement.

  I slid the card key into the lock, waiting for the green flash to appear and signal me into the room. The cool air hit me as the door swung open, and I saw the room, dark and untouched. The only sign of Ethan was a suitcase on a chair across the room. If I closed my eyes, I could smell him. My mind was on overload, waiting for Ethan to come. The hands of my watch moved so slowly, I couldn’t take it. I sat on the edge of the bed, tapping my foot quickly to try and get the nervousness out of me, but there was no way to shake the feeling I had. Ethan had left me changed all those years ago. There was no way to stop the intense mix of fear, anticipation, lust and excitement coursing through my body at that moment.

  Finally, I heard steps in the hallway, the click of plastic in the door lock. I held my breath as Ethan emerged through the doorjamb, his stride confident. The room remained dark and the shadows that fell across his face made him look rough and dangerous. His hand reached out and stroked down the side of my face. I closed my eyes at the feeling of his touch, so gentle and sure. I was hot under my clothes, and I squirmed against the hard matt
ress.

  “I was surprised to see you here.” His voice was just as low and hard as I remembered. His finger ran over my lips and down to my chin as I looked up at him. He cut such an imposing figure, just looking at him was flooding me with wetness.

  “I wasn’t going to come, Ethan, but I figured what the hell.”

  His hand lowered back to his side, the familiar smirk played across his lips.

  “Don’t lie. You came here hoping to see me, didn’t you? Tell me.”

  Unable to manage actual words, I just nodded. I couldn’t lie to him. In my secret thoughts, I had hoped and prayed for this very moment, for Ethan to take me to his room and bend me over his knee. But in reality, I never thought I’d be sitting here, waiting for him to make his move.

  “Get up. Let me look at you.”

  I did as I was told, rising to my feet slowly. He scanned me up and down, stopping to stare at my barest hint of cleavage. Never having had large breasts, I had managed to rustle them together for the evening. My skirt was short, but not too short. Finally, his eyes rested on my high heels, black and strappy. He stepped toward me, pushing my hair back from my eyes. Just as I relaxed into his touch, his hand tightened in my hair, pulling my head back harshly. Crying out into the dark room, I relished the pain, feeling the familiar surge of heat between my legs in response.

  “After all these years, still such a bad girl. God, I can’t wait to turn that ass black and blue.”

  I gasped again as his hand tightened a bit more. His eyes were bright, even in the dim light. He grinned, releasing my hair. He turned me roughly so that my hands landed on the bed to steady myself. Ethan kicked my feet apart, pushing my skirt up my thighs. His hands ran up from my knees, moving my skirt up to my waist. The only things between us now were my panty hose and thong, both wet from my pussy. I could feel him behind me, and I waited, waited for anything to happen. His hands ran over my ass, smoothing over the nylon that covered my trembling flesh. Suddenly, I felt the material ripping and tearing away from my skin. The sound rang violently off the walls, filling the silence that had set in between us. I could feel my panty hose in tatters at my ankles; the only pieces not in shreds were inside my shoes. Lord knows what became of my thong, as it too was long gone. My ass was now exposed, the cool air of the room raising goose bumps on my skin. I knew his eyes were on me, devouring me. But I needed to feel his hands; I needed him to touch me.