45 - Twist and Shout

He waited with curiosity, wondering if she would leave herself open.

“No.  I’m not.”

At least she was honest. 

“Then I respectfully decline to answer.”  He focused on the hand he’d given himself instead of the twinge of disappointment.  Jon had thought she was starting to open up to him after her unexpected revelation at dinner.  Apparently there was still something – or a bunch of somethings – she wanted to keep hidden. 

His hand was two threes, a queen of diamonds, jack of diamonds and four of hearts.  Doing the only thing he could, he ditched everything but the threes.

“Cards, Sugar?” 

“Two.”

That meant either her hand was already better than his, or she was taking a shot in the dark.  He hoped for the latter.

He lifted up the corners of his new cards with bated breath.  Another three, plus a king and ten.  Three of a kind.  Maybe it would hold.

“I’ve got a pair of aces,” she informed him, flipping over her cards with a hopeful look on her face.  She also wiggled her butt again, thinking he didn’t notice.  He was going to have to bump it up again.  He was counting on her disobedience tonight and he would take it any way he could get it – willful or accidental.

“Three of a kind.”   He tossed the cards to her, so she could shuffle, and picked up his win.  Grinning, he showed her the question mark.

Resignation written all over her face, she gathered the cards.  “Go ahead.”

He watched her small, black tipped hands manipulate the cards into a deck and methodically begin shuffling. 

“Tell me about the recitations.”

Astoundingly, she didn’t show the first hint of discomfort and continued to shuffle as though he’d asked nothing more than the time.  She dealt the cards, put the remaining deck aside and folded her hands in front of her, rocking forward as he sat waiting, chin cradled in his hand.

Rock a little more, Baby.

“As a child I was prone to debilitating anxiety attacks.  My father and step-mother were beside themselves and didn’t know how to help me, so they sent me to a counselor.  He was never able to teach me how to keep the anxiety away, but once he found out that I had a good memory, he suggested quoting things – stories, poems, songs, whatever – to distract myself when they became unbearable.”  Her slight shoulders lifted.  “The anxiety attacks aren’t as severe nowadays, so it’s almost a habit more than anything.  It’s rare that I have to recite to the exclusion of everything else so that I can keep from having a breakdown.”

Pretty much what he’d guessed, but she did offer more than she had to.

“I know that I’ve interrupted you several times.  Are you saying that when it’s a severe anxiety attack… what?”

“I don’t hear or acknowledge anything around me.  I block it all out and concentrate on the words until my heart rate slows down.”  She swept her cards up.  “But like I said, it’s rare anymore.”

Jon slowly arranged the cards in his hand, letting himself absorb what she’d told him.  At least he’d never been responsible for one that he couldn’t pull her out of.  Except for the “Horton Hears a Who” incident, when he called her a whore.  He kicked himself again for that flash of ‘brilliance’.

Nice one, Bongiovi. 

To distract himself as much as her, he discreetly extended a finger toward the pink control device lying next to his hand.  One quiet push, and the vibrator kicked up to full-force.

“Ohh!”  Petey’s eyes snapped up to his and the cards fell unheeded to the table as her head became too heavy for her neck.  She gripped the table and forced herself to look at him.  “Please.  I can’t…  Too much…”

“Keep it in check, Baby,” he coached.  “You can do it.  I promise it will be worth the wait.”

He knew his words were dust flying in the wind.  He could see the flush of orgasm stealing up her chest and into her neck. 

But he had to keep this where it belonged.

“Petey,” he demanded.  “Don’t do it.”

“Too… much,” she gasped.  “Oh Godd!”  He watched her breasts push forward while her pelvis ground into the seat beneath her.  White-knuckled and limp, she slumped forward, her chin falling to her sternum.

“Look at me.”

She slowly raised her head, bleary-eyed and wary.  Her shoulders still heaved in an effort to regain her breath.

Jon flicked the vibrator off.  “What did I tell you, Petey?”

She drew one more full breath and blew it out before answering.  “That I was not to have an orgasm with the toy.”

“And did you?”

“Yes.”

He willed his voice to cut like a diamond when challenging her, “Yes, what?”

Sapphire eyes cleared and she met his gaze repentantly, but without fear.  “Yes, Sir.”

“Do you know what’s going to happen now?”

He would swear that her nostrils flared with anticipation.  “I’m going to have to pay the consequences.”

Jon needed a minute to cool his hormones down or he was going to lose it right here, right now.

“Go into the bathroom and take the vibrator out and strip down to your garters and stockings, and heels.”  He grappled to conjure up an artificial anger.  “Now!”

She rose slowly to her feet, and the fuck-me heels she was wearing slowly tapped across the floor as she meekly did as she was told.  He held his breath, watching her closely and waiting until she’d exited the room before releasing it. 

He was in over his head.  She was fucking with his mind.  So angry and feisty one minute, then vulnerable, playful, docile, confident, obedient, seductive, and on and on.  He couldn’t keep up with all the shades of Petey.  Just when he thought he had one under control, she would unleash another on him. 

Well, tomorrow night was going to be different.  Tomorrow night would be a true game of domination.  That's it.  No talking, no trying to get into her head.  Just domination for the pleasure of two willing parties.  

Then, if he could get through that with his head intact, he might be able to figure out what the night after that held.  Had he really signed on for an entire week of this?  

She slid silently back in the room, her scent offering the only clue that she had returned.  Jon didn’t look at her, but went to sit on the edge of the bed.  “Come here,” he instructed quietly. 

Petey came to present herself before him, completely naked, save the garter, stockings and heels, just like he’d asked.  Her stance was cautious, yet expectant.  She knew what was about to happen.

Jon reached for her hand, looking up into her face. 

“You disobeyed, and I’m going to punish you.  I didn’t set these rules arbitrarily, Petey.  They’re in place for your pleasure and for mine.  When you go against them, you’re only screwing yourself over.” 

Did it really matter that this was a line of contrived bullshit?  He’d practically been praying that she would defy him tonight so that their kinkery could continue on its natural course of progression.  He wanted to warm his palm against her.

“Yes, Sir.”  She blinked demurely.

“I’m going to bend you over my knee and spank your ass, like I’ve been threatening to do for weeks.  Four hard swats.   Does that scare you?” 

Dammit.  In all the buildup to this, you've never once told her she could say ‘stop’ and it would end.

“No, Sir.”  The little imp looked directly into his eyes, and he felt like she saw something nobody else did. 

“If that changes, all you have to do is tell me to stop.  It will.  Immediately.  Okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He patted his thighs.  “Bend over, then.”

His erection swelled as she wriggled against his lap, finding a place to balance her torso and put her bottom within his reach.  She finally got balanced by holding onto his calf with her hand, and pressing the spiked heels of her shoes against the floor.

He took just a minute to savor the sight she made spraddled across him.  That sweet little ass that had captured his attention the first day was bare except for the black garters making it appear all the more porcelain.  So perfectly round, and now he knew just how well it fit in his hand.  

Drifting further down, he appreciated the black nylon lying intimately against the creamy white of her thighs.  And the heels.  So very feminine.  More like a vamp instead of an imp.

His erection stirred.  It was time to play for real.

“Hold still,” he commanded, swiping a hand over the right buttock in a soft caress before lifting his palm and bringing it against the roundness with a resounding smack.  She jerked under his touch, and he knew it was more from surprise than pain.  The sound was far more intimidating than his ‘punishment’ had been, but he stroked a soothing hand over the handprint blossoming against her fair skin just the same. 

“Three more.  Are you okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” she breathed immediately, twisting against his lap.  This time he offered no warning before delivering the stinging blow on her left buttock and she sucked in a surprised breath.  Once again, he stroked a soothing hand over the affected area.

“Are you going to disobey me again?” he asked, the third ‘smack’ echoing in the quiet room along with her breathy moan.  His vampy little imp was getting turned on by this, he realized with a wry grin.

“No.  Maybe.  Sir.”

He had to restrain himself from chuckling as he delivered the last promised tap and watched the flesh quiver under his palm. 

“That just got you two more,” he informed her and delivered them quickly, one after the other on each butt cheek.  Her ass was so pretty and pink now as he caressed the tender area, slipping his fingers down to find her sex dripping with arousal.  He dipped inside the honeypot with a murmur of approval, dispensing her slickness throughout the valleys of delicate tissue that thrummed with excitement under his touch.

“You liked that, didn’t you little girl?”  He gave one final, softer pat against her honeyed sex, and helped her to her feet.  A quick tug of the wrist had her spinning to face him. 

She was so beautiful that she almost stole his breath away. 

Looking past the Goth girl makeup, her cheeks were nearly as pink as her ass, her eyes were glassy and dilated and her mouth… 

God, her lips were the manifestation of unadulterated sin.  They were parted on a seductive breath, all plump and flushed scarlet with awakening.  She swiped her tongue across the full swell of her bottom lip, and it glistened with the moisture left behind.

Jesus.

He wanted to taste her mouth so badly that it was a physical ache in the center of his chest.

“Yes, Sir.”  The demure look she gave him was his undoing.  He had to have her, and if he got close enough he would have their mouths fused permanently together, her rule be damned. 

He engaged the only defense he had. 

“Turn around and bend over the table.  You’ve had your turn, now I’m taking mine,” he growled, latching back onto his dominant self with two desperate hands.

Jon stood and stripped his pants and second shirt off without ceremony.

As ordered, she bent over and propped her elbows on the table, presenting him with the sexy view of her heels, stocking clad legs, garters and gorgeously punished ass.  A closer look revealed the rest of her sweet pinkness tucked discreetly between her thighs, and how it pouted and begged for his invasion.

He approached stealthily from behind, his erection barely brushing against her hips.  Placing a heavy hand between her shoulder blades, he urged her breasts into the felt of the poker table.  The abrasion on her nipples would be an added enhancement as he scooted her across its surface.

“What do you want, Sugar?” He demanded gruffly, cock head poised at her portal.  His hands kneaded her buttocks a little too firmly in an effort to keep himself in check.   “Tell me.”

“I want you inside me,” she answered without hesitation.  “Filling me.”  Sapphire eyes darted back at him over her shoulder.  “I want you, Jon.”

Sonofabitch.  


Not ‘Sir’, not ‘I want you to fuck me’, not ‘I want you to make me come’, but ‘I want you, Jon’.  She said she wanted him.

In that instant, it stopped being a game.  Even if only for that moment in time, she was his and he wanted to satisfy them both like they’d never been satisfied before.

So his only reply was to push between her welcoming folds with the finesse of a caveman, fingers digging into both hips to hold her still.  His possession was brutal as he bucked against her, each thrust trying to find more depth than the one before it. 

Petey’s soft cries filled the air, spurring him on as she met his lunges one after another.  The harder he pushed, the more his ears were tickled with the impassioned sounds that she either couldn’t or didn’t want to withhold.  He got so caught up in them and her that he thought she screamed with release, but couldn’t be sure. 

Jon kept pummeling forward, seeking that abstract point of light in the distance where she waited for him.  Beckoned for him to join her.   He crept closer, one slick inch at a time, until – at last – the only thing he could do was cry out her name.