Melting

(Writing Spicy 25’ Prompt 5: “She Wanted To Be Slapped In The Face Again”)

She wanted to be slapped in the face again. We were barely started and her eyes were already watering like she was holding back tears.

I came over already hard, already hot and wanting to shed from the confines of my clothes. I wanted us skin to skin, cheek to wet cheek. She was in the kitchen mixing what looked like some sort of desert as I let myself in the front door. She’d left it unlocked for me, part of our protocol. 

Before we could even exchange hellos I sauntered behind her and thrust my hips into her own, pinning her right into the marbled counter. I wanted her hips bruised tomorrow, wearing what I did to her the next few days so we could both remember. 

She didn’t have time to finish asking me about my day before my grip had her throat, and I pushed her stomach harder into the counter. She was almost on her toes now, and whimpered pathetically while my teeth found the nape of her neck and clamped her flesh like a vice. 

Where my palm was, I could feel the vibrato of her cry and I added more tension. Her shoulders stiffened and she knew to be quiet then. Fuck dinner. Fuck plans. This was happening. 

I reached behind me and turned the oven off and came back and spun her around, hearing that juicy little ass of hers slam into the cabinet. 

In a moment that broke her training, her hands flew out and pushed me back, her nerves overcome and still catching up with what was happening to her body. The black in my eyes pooled down at her in disbelief and I put my forehead against hers like a bull. Her breath hitched and I inhaled and exhaled deep, fingers curling around her skirt and thong and shoving them off her hips so the fabric left a burn behind. Her eyes closed at that, again, breaking protocol. 

“Look at me”, I growled it low. A command. Not a question. I was met with an anxious pout of her eyes trying to read mine and shrinking back further. I took my arm up her torso, slowly caressing her and she shivered, acting as if I was about to choke her again, her lower lip quivered. God that turned me on. Her eyelashes were damp but I hadn’t seen a tear fall yet. 

My hand skipped past her clavicle and I let it close in a fist while I grounded her some with a soft “Shhh.”

I let the back of my palm slide across the softness of her cheek and she winced a little. She knew what was coming. 

I interrupted the silence, challenging her,

“Why do you get slaps when we play?”

I stroked her cheek slow, menacingly tender, noticing the grip of her little fingers around the edge of the counter behind her. It was rigid, white knuckle tight. 

Just before I was about to repeat myself she sniffled and whispered, 

“When I break protocol.”

“When you what?!”

“When I break protocol, Sir.”

“What did you do, brat?”

That last word came out with a bit more malice than I’d wanted, but it was fine. Let her sweat. 

“I pushed you away. For a second.” 

“For a second? Hmm maybe if you like seconds so much you’ll get another one. What. Else?”

She studied me intently but her smallness felt pathetic in the moment, walled up and shrunk by my energy, she cleared her throat a little. 

“Closed m-my eyes. —- closed my eyes! Sir!” 

Trying to steady her stance, I crushed her tighter into the counter. I kicked an ankle with my boot so her legs opened, slid my hand over her cunt and saw her stomach tremor from my touch.

I ran a finger along her outer lips, She was fucking soaked. I was tempted to give her three fingers at once but decided to wait, draw it out, make the slapping a scene within our scene. 

You’re going to look at me each time I slap you, understand? You don’t break the contact. You stand still and obey and give me your eyes. 

“Yes. Sir.”

 I pulled my fingers away from her wet little pussy and let her watch me lick them. Slow. Like a predator. My palm flattened against her cheek and she uttered out a two syllable little cry, dramatic in her anticipation. 

“That’s not going to change anything for you now, baby. Eyes on me. That’s right. Good.”

I wasn’t planning on hitting her hard tonight, they were minor infractions because of the intensity I put on her so immediately. I knew what made her falter and knew what made her fail. Still, I liked keeping her right here in her fear against me so I could build it up and then grab her in that adrenalized terror, come down with her sensually while I filled her deep. It was always so much worse in her head. That’s why this worked so well. 

My hand was steady now and I felt her neck stiffen some. Her fingers adjusted behind her and I could tell she was holding her breath. 

“Breathe. I didn’t tell you to stop. Hold fucking still.”

She almost closed her eyes when I spit out that last phrase and righted herself and I pulled back and let go. 

The first one was good, a little sting in my own hand and an immediately flush on the spot I got. She moaned, sniffed deep again and did some of those intense fast breaths in and out of her nostrils when she feels trapped and a little terrified. I let the first one be a little more than she was ready for, so she would be more scared of the second one. She stiffened her posture, feigning strength, but wearing the effect loudly on her face.

My hand rested again and felt the heat of her now. I pulled back again and she started crying quietly while I made her wait. She kept my gaze though, through the muddled lens of her anxiousness and didn’t blink until the saltwater brimmed over her eyelids. She looked so fucking pretty. 

I slapped her again, harder this time and it really stung my own hand. Her knees buckled a little and I grabbed her cheek and held the burn of it close so she wouldn’t bruise. 

I pressed my nose to hers and told her she could close her eyes now. My hands found hers curled tight and unraveled them to fit between my own. 

She started whimpering some, aware she could release against me now and I was tender again. I scooped her up from under her thighs and set her on the counter and as if she was scared I’d leave, her legs wrapped around my waist and she locked her ankles. Her hands gripped the fabric of my shirt and kneaded it while she silently tried to kiss me. 

I licked the line of salt from her chin to her eyelid, slid a finger in her precious little cunt and swallowed her moan. She was still crying while I started fucking her gently, and I covered her mouth witb mine, swallowing all those nerves and knots and tasting all that fear like it could feed me for days. I slid her tank off and her bra and she shivered her own arousal into me as I gripped her little ass, lifting her up. 

I smacked each side sweetly and she threw her neck back and my teeth found her throat. 

“You’re getting my jeans all wet with that pussy of yours. Daddy’s going to have to have you clean that up with your tongue. Before I take my cock out.”

She leaned her head sweetly on my shoulder and kissed my neck feverishly, her little hands gripped my hair with need and I set her on the edge of the bed, hovering over her. 

The pleading her eyes flashed at me in the dark and told me we’d go all night tonight, I never wanted it to end, my hunger for her desire, her ache for my control. On our spread she looked beautiful, depraved, gagging for it, shivering from her own want, reaching for me with all her limbs. 

We fucked until the sun came up and slept til late afternoon. She woke me up with sleep still in her eyes, hungrily grinding against my dick in little circles with her hips, sucking on her own fingers and her neck arched back so my forearm could strangle her lightly. She bent back into me like I was her Sun, and I showed her how much she was mine.