Bubbles

by Candace Blevins

  “The office is fine.”

  Brain had set my phone up so I can text people by talking to my phone while I ride my bike, and I sent our order to Knife and asked him to set us up in the office. He did, and HotPocket followed us in with our plates when we arrived. She even had a beer for me and a Coke for Lexi.

  “Thanks, darlin’. Go ahead and bring another Coke and two more beers, then we should be good without you needin’ to check on us.”

  The door closed behind her, and Lexi said, “Can you not call women you’ve slept with darlin’, maybe?”

  I started to tell her to deal with it, but remembered Tex’s words. “On a scale of one to ten, how big of a deal is this?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. It bugs me. Isn’t that enough?”

  “What if I promise not to call anyone but you sweetheart or half-pint, but we leave the other words available?”

  She considered it a few seconds. “Okay, but if you call me darlin’, I’ll punch you in the nuts.”

  I laughed, despite the fact I could see she was serious.

  “What do we need to talk about?”

  “I like the fun spankings, but I don’t like being afraid you’ll spank me out of the blue when I don’t see things your way.” She looked away a few seconds, and when she met my gaze I could see she’d made some kind of decision. “Etta says we have to write out why you’ll spank me for real, so there aren’t any misunderstandings.”

  “We can do that, so long as you know we’ll have to go back over it every so often and make changes. Probably once a week at first, maybe once a month after that, maybe every three or six months, eventually. It isn’t like we do it and then it’s written in stone.”

  “But we have to agree on anything added or taken away. You don’t just get to decide. You said this was about us making sure I succeed.”

  “It’s also about what it takes for us to live together in peace. The snooze thing is one of my biggest pet peeves. Set the alarm for when you need to get up, and then get up.”

  She shook her head. “I need time. I hit it the first time and it pulls me out of a deep sleep, so when it goes off again I’m in a lighter sleep and it isn’t so hard to get up.”

  I crossed my arms and leaned back. I didn’t want to give even an inch on this one thing, but if that was how she viewed it… fuck. “We’ll try it the rest of the week. You hit it one time, and you get up when it goes off again — but you get right up without me havin’ to tell you.”

  “Okay. One more thing, at least for now. I think expecting I won’t make less than an A on anything is bullshit. I’m good with expecting an A for anything color related, including all the stupid chemical stuff I’ve heard is going to be a major pain in the butt when we get there, but I think a B should be acceptable for everything else.”

  Over the years, I’d learned all the reasons girls go to get their hair done. “An A for all the braiding shit, and the stuff on top of the head — like for proms. Also, anything to do with cutting. Your report card should have more A’s than B’s.” I remembered they were teaching her a lot of business stuff, too. “Nothing lower than a ninety for anything business related, and your average on those classes should be an A.”

  She sighed. “For what it’s worth, Etta’s in favor of you spanking me for bad grades and tardies. I got zero sympathy from her, she just thought we needed it in writing. She said for me to write out the rules and consequences I think are appropriate, and for you to do the same, and then we should merge them into one document we can both agree on.”

  Not the way I’d have gone about it, but I was inclined to do it her sister’s way, since she trusted Betty — Etta — more than me. I didn’t want her to trust her sister any less, I just wanted her to trust me more, but it would take time.

  “Okay, but I don’t want you doin’ that instead of homework.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I won’t. Oh, one more thing — I don’t want to call you Sir.”

  Wow, that seemed to come out of left field. “On a scale of one to ten, that one’s an eight for me, but only when I need you to acknowledge a rule or an order. I don’t want you calling me Sir around others, and I don’t need to hear it often. You’ll know when it’s called for, and if you don’t, I’ll remind you.”

  She’d taken a bite while I talked, and she took her time chewing, swallowing, and then sipping some of her Coke. Finally, she gave me a tiny nod. “We’ll see how it goes, and if I still have a problem with it in a few weeks, I’ll let you know.” She lifted some food, but changed her mind and put the fork back down. “I get the one-to-ten thing now. I didn’t before.”

  “Maybe we need an argument safeword. If something’s an eight or higher for you and I’m not understanding how important it is, say Brussels sprouts and maybe it’ll get through my thick skull.” I’d been smiling, but my grin faded. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand how upset you were this morning. I haven’t been in a relationship since I went inside, and you already know I had total say-so over everything that happened between me and the inmates I protected in there. I’ll try to do better, but I’m serious about the Brussels sprouts thing.”

  She looked at her plate. “Etta agrees with you about the day I was at her house and I was late to school, but I still don’t see it.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  “I need to talk to Mama, plus it’s time for me to give her my part of the rent and electric bill. She got the bigger apartment for me to live with her, so I need to pay it even when I’m not using my room.” She looked up. “I need to keep that address until I finish school. I’m pretty sure I lose my grant if I have a Georgia address, since it’s through the state of Tennessee.”

  Which reminded me of something else. “I know your boss isn’t going to report when you’re late to work, so I’ll trust you to let me know, so we can handle it.”

  She started to argue — I sensed it and scented it — but she didn’t. “Okay. You’re right even if I don’t want you to be. I want them to hire me as a colorist if they put the salon in next door. They probably will even if I’m predictably late, but it isn’t professional and might screw up my chances if they have a bunch of experienced people apply.”

  “Good girl. I’m proud of you for admitting it. Also, if you run short on money, you know I’m not hurting for cash, and since I assume that’s how you pay your mom, I’m good with fillin’ in whatever you need — especially since you’ll be asking off on weekends here and there for club stuff, but even when that doesn’t come into play. If I find out you’re running short and don’t tell me, we’ll have a problem.”

  “I know you worked on my car and didn’t tell me. It runs smoother. Thank you, but you shouldn’t be spending a lot of money on me. I need to pull my own way.”

  “And once you’re out of school and a famous hair colorist, I’ll let you do that if it’s important to you, but I promised I’ll do whatever I can to see you there, and I will.”

  “Thanks for believing in me.” She sighed and I scented hurt and pain. Old, emotional shit — and a little new, but mostly old. “Mama taught me how to get drugs ready for resale. I know how to take the e-pills that come in from Canada, crush them and mix them with fillers, and form them into pills we can sell for the same dollar amount, but we have forty percent more to sell. I also learned how to cook meth, but we don’t do that anymore — her people get the good crystal shit from Mexico now, so she just has to move it from the big packages into the tiny dimebags, which sell for twenty bucks so I have no idea why they’re called dimebags.”

  I didn’t comment or stop her, so she kept going. “I can take the H out of the fingerbags and get it ready for the dealers to sell, I can turn coke into crack — you name it and I know how. Mama trained me and Etta, and assumed we’d go into the family business. She made me and Etta help when deliveries arrived when we were younger, and she made my sister mule for them when Etta got her license, but Etta stopped when she turned eighteen and refus
ed to do it anymore.”

  “Has she tried to make you help since you came back?’

  “She didn’t have to make me. The money’s good and it was expected I’d work for her, but I didn’t think much of it, at first. It was a job. I mean, I didn’t mule, but I helped repack some deliveries, and the cash was awesome, but then I saw on the news where someone overdosed on crack, and I worried it was some I’d helped with. Mama says if you sell someone a house and they fall down the steps a week later and die, it isn’t on you, but I don’t see it that way. I haven’t helped since I read about the overdose.”

  “And that’s just one of the reasons I love you, Half-pint. You’re still figuring out who you are, but you want to like the person you grow into. I told you once I don’t always follow the law, but I follow my own moral code. You’re figuring your moral code out, and I like where it’s headed.”

  “My mama’s never going to accept you. First, you’re white, but you also eat into her profits. They’d be sellin’ more if they could sell to the whole city. Ya’ll keep them from doin’ that.”

  “The truth is, people go outside the territory to buy if they want it. We aren’t keeping drug addicts from getting their drugs. They can walk five blocks to get it, and we all know they do. It’s more a matter of principle. Our territory, our rules.”

  “Mama isn’t likely to agree with your logic.”

  “Probably not. Is that a deal breaker for you?”

  “No. I love her, but I understand her faults. She screwed me up with the whole black versus white thing, but thankfully I got away from her in time to work through some of it. I still feel black on the inside and white on the outside, but I’ve come to terms with it. Mostly.”

  26

  Bubbles

  * * *

  I made her sleep in a butt plug every night. Not huge, but enough she felt it. She got orgasms, of course, so she didn’t complain. I also used the nine minutes between the first time the alarm went off and the second to take it out. It made the snooze button a little more bearable for me. Not sure she was a fan, but she didn’t bitch. Much.

  We spent more time at the clubhouse, and I noted she seemed to be growing closer to Matty, Harmony, Bethany, and Gabby. I finally received the notice her prop vest had shipped, and I asked Duke to have as many people at the clubhouse Wednesday night as possible, so we could all celebrate when I gave it to her.

  I also called Texas, Sparkie, and Bud, and asked if they’d be able to make the trip up.

  And I asked Viper to explain the situation to her boss. She wasn’t scheduled for work, but sometimes he calls her in last minute.

  Once again, Duke was looking out for me, because he organized a short ride on Sunday, which meant the other ol’ladies wore their vests and it gave Lexi a chance to ask questions and learn what those vests mean to the women who wear them.

  It also let us talk more about our longer ride into the North Georgia mountains the next weekend. Lexi hadn’t understood we’d be roughing it in tents with no electricity for two days. She was good with it once she knew, but she pointed out that sometimes I suck at communication.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  I asked Matty to help me wrap the vest, and he put it in black paper that looked like leather, and ribbon that looked like a huge silver zipper. It kicked ass.

  Best of all, my brothers voted during church on Sunday to allow her to bring her pepper spray, which meant she wouldn’t have to remember to take it out of her bag or pocket when she came in. She’d admitted she’d forgotten it in her glove box one night at work, and had asked someone to walk her to her car because she was afraid without it.

  I hadn’t spanked her for it, despite the fact our rules said I could, because she’d asked someone to walk her out.

  Our rules ended up being a lot more involved than I’d anticipated. She had a few things on her list I hadn’t expected and would’ve never demanded — like going too long without working out. I made sure she set every expectation for exercise, and told her I’d help her meet her goals, but only because she was asking.

  One of my stipulations was that she not only learn proper self-defense, but that she take refresher courses periodically so her reflexes stayed sharp. She was fine with it and initialed the line without arguing.

  Our first test came when I checked her grades and saw an eighty-one on a quiz. She tried to argue, at first. It’d been a surprise quiz, and no one had done well — but then her voice had faded and she’d oh-so-softly said, “But none of that matters. It’s a C in an important class. Where do you want me, Sir?”

  “I’m so proud of you, and I love you so much. Let’s make this into a routine, so it’s always structured the same way and you know what to expect. Now that we have the living room furniture, I think that’s a good place to do it. It’s our most formal room, and I think it may be the only room we haven’t had sex in.”

  Her cute little face went pink, and I wondered if she’d ever stop blushing when we talked about sex.

  “Take your clothes off in the bedroom and go to the living room. Knees and chest on the coffee table; your ass towards the kitchen. Any questions?”

  “No, Sir.”

  I sat for a few moments and debated. For girls who hate anal, I’d put a plug in while I belted them, and then would take it out and fuck their ass when I finished — but Lexi was learning to love anal and I didn’t want to associate it with punishment.

  Still, I’d need to get off after I belted her, and it was important she didn’t.

  I hadn’t even started to teach her how to take a face fucking, but I supposed this would be an excellent time. She wouldn’t be able to get me off without a lot of practice, but she could get me ramped up and close enough I could finish myself off.

  I gave her five minutes to stew before I sauntered into the living room and took my time taking my belt off.

  “Why are we here?”

  “I made a C on a quiz in an important class, Sir.”

  “Because it’s an important class and it’s so low, you’ll get twelve strikes. If you move out of position the strike won’t count. No orgasm until twenty-four hours after your punishment. You’ll be on your honor at school and work tomorrow, but if I find out you got yourself off, you’ll be punished per our agreement.”

  Which meant double the spanking the next night and we’d try it again the next day, and then double again the next night if she got herself off. My ability to smell a lie meant she’d have to tell the truth when I asked.

  Because lying to me didn’t mean punishment. It meant we had a problem with our relationship and we’d need to decide whether or not to stay together. I’d made a promise not to lie to her unless my promises to the club or supernatural community required it, and I fully intended to keep that promise. She was good with it, even though her promise to me was to not lie under any circumstances. She could refuse to answer in special cases, but no lies.

  I smelled her tension and fear, but I couldn’t take it easy on her. I know what a human woman can take, and I gave it to her.

  Her scream filled the air, and my cock swelled and pulsed in my pants. Maybe it’s wrong to enjoy hurting someone for real, but I’d long ago stopped trying to analyze it. This was another case where my morals kept me in line — I only did it when it was consensual.

  She managed to get out a fairly strong One when she’d recovered, and I let my belt fly again.

  My little Half-pint didn’t come off the table until the ninth strike, and she was a mess. Ordinarily, I’d have ordered her right back to the table, but she clung to me with her sobs wracking her body, so I put my arms around her and reminded her to breathe.

  “Please hold me down for the last four. I can’t stay still and I don’t want to disappoint you. Please, Adam. Please!”

  “I won’t hold you, but I’ll bind you. You’ll have to count it and ask me for the next, if you’re bound. You’ll also get three extra, given all at once, after the twelve. You need to learn self-rest
raint, so there are consequences when you can’t control yourself.” A basic tenet of our agreement, and it applied to drinking when it wasn’t appropriate, losing her temper when she needed to be levelheaded, and a whole host of other things.

  “Yes, Sir. Please!”

  “Okay. Get back into position. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  I gathered some zip ties and twine from the garage, and squatted in front of her face with a zip tie lifted so she could see it. “Wrap your arms around the table and put your wrists together.”

  She looked and smelled terrified, but she didn’t hesitate. She was afraid of the pain, not of me. I’m not sure how I could tell the difference, but I could, and it settled my heart.

  I zip tied her ankles together, tied the twine to the plastic, and ran it under the table and back up. The tabletop was marble over thick wood, and the four columns holding it up were substantial. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind the table would hold, else I’d have never put her on it.

  I stood, grasped the belt, and settled into my stance. I was about to remind her to ask me for it when she said, “Please, Sir. Give me the ninth strike again.”

  She fought her bonds, screamed, and thrashed for every strike, but she always asked for the next well before I was close to reminding her. It’s been a long damned time since a belt hit my ass, but I felt it from my parents and then Texas and Bud — never mind it’s against foster rules, they let me feel it when I needed. I know it hurts, and she took it without asking me to take it easy on her even a single time.

  I rubbed her ass after the twelfth and helped her calm down. When she was breathing without gasping, I asked, “Why are you getting the next three?”

  “I need to learn self-control and you had to help me.”

  “That’s right. These will be harder and all together, with no time to recover, and I won’t undo the bindings until you’ve thanked me for them.” I took a breath and stepped back into position. “Now that you know exactly what you’re getting, I need you to ask me for them.”