Last Week: A Dark Romance

by Lucy Wild

  She was such a quick learner. Only a few hours before, she’d hated me, telling me to go to hell. Yet, she had given in as they all did, accepting me as her master, the one in charge of her life.

  It had all become easier once she’d done that. Everything would be easier now, though in that typical way of mine, instead of happy, I was annoyed that she might not prove to be the challenge I thought she would.

  “What do you want?” I asked, continuing to circle her clit.

  “I want to go home,” she replied in a quiet voice, a voice that infuriated me.

  “You want to go home! “ I snapped, yanking her hands away from her ass. “You bad girl!”

  I raised my hand and brought it smacking down on the middle of her right buttock. The sound of skin on skin filled the air, followed closely by her shrieking into the blanket. She twisted away from me, trying to escape.

  “Come back here,” I said, lunging for her.

  FIFTEEN

  ETHAN

  She shrieked as I grabbed her and I was surprised by how strong she was. It was quite the battle to drag her back across the bed but I managed it with a grunt, bringing her down onto my lap at last despite her flailing legs.

  I twisted her in place until her ass was directly above my lap, then I let her have it.

  She screamed as I started spanking her, still squirming to free herself from my grip. “Stop,” she screamed, her voice descending into sobs. “Get off me.”

  “I warned you enough times,” I replied, my voice calm but stern, making no effort to ease off, continuing to rain blows down on her ass. “You are to obey me without question. Without question! That means you don’t ask me things, you don’t tell me what to do and you certainly don’t whine on about going home. You didn’t see the safe word, tough. This is your life for the next six days so you better get used to it.”

  “Please, it hurts.”

  “It’s meant to,” I replied, continuing to spank her as hard as I dared. “It’s supposed to be a punishment for your behaviour. If you’d told me the truth, it wouldn’t have come to this.”

  “Get off me, stop it! Ow!”

  “You wanted to come. You could have admitted that. Instead you started in that whining voice of yours. It won’t work with me, you little brat. You are here to please me, not to whine. The quicker you get used to that, the better for both of us. Now apologise for whining.”

  “Get off me. Let me go!”

  “Not until you apologise,” I said, smacking her again, amazed at how much of this she could take.

  “All right,” she screamed as I continued to spank her. “I’m sorry, now let me go.”

  “Sorry Sir!” I said, smacking down hard on her ass.

  “Ow! I’m sorry, Sir,” she said between sobs.

  “There,” I replied, stroking her ass softly, loosening my grip on her. “That’s all it takes.”

  She didn’t reply. I waited for a second, wondering if she might up and leave. I had smacked her ass bright red. I’d disciplined her so firmly my hand was stinging but she didn’t move. She just lay slumped across my lap, breathing hard.

  “Good girls get rewards,” I said, my voice lower. As I spoke, I moved my hand to her thighs, pushing my way between them, finding her clit which was still soaked with her juices. I brushed it once then moved away.

  “Bad girls get spanked.” Another smack to her ass that made her shriek.

  “Good girls get rewards.”

  It was the start of training her properly. I smacked her, then stroked her clit, spending more time playing with her pussy between each smack as the minutes passed by. Soon she was moaning instead of crying, pushing her ass up to me in preparation for being spanked. Could she tell how hard I was under her? How much I wanted to fuck her?

  She shifted in place, her legs moving further apart as I stroked her faster, listening for her breathing changing. Her legs started to tense up as I brought her closer to an orgasm.

  “Do you want to come?” I asked, dipping a finger into her, exploring inside her pussy again.

  “I do,” she replied.

  “Ask me if you can.”

  “Can I come, Sir?”

  “Say please.”

  “Please, Sir,” her voice more ragged. “Please let me come.”

  “Not until you learn to behave,” I said, lifting her to her feet. “Now present yourself for me. Get in the position I showed you.”

  Her face was flushed, her eyes watering, her hair all over the place. She turned away from me, almost stumbling back onto the bed as I stood and watched her with my arms folded.

  Once she was knelt down with her hands holding her buttocks open, I landed a light swat between them, rewarded by a moan instead of a shriek from her.

  She stayed in place as I stroked my way down her ass. “Good girl,” I said, brushing over her clit again. “That’s better.”

  “Please, let me come,” she muttered into the blanket. “Please, Sir.”

  “Not until I say so,” I replied, reaching across and flicking my tongue over her puckered hole, sliding down to gather up a tiny taste of her sweet wetness. “You are to stay in that position until I come back. You are not to move, you are not to touch yourself, you are not to do anything. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. I will fetch food. You must be hungry.”

  I left her there and headed downstairs, leaving the door open. Would she stay in that position? It was hard to call.

  She’d had the chance to leave. She’d chosen to stay. She’d chosen to obey me but she hadn’t seemed happy about doing it. She’d cried in pain when I’d spanked her but she was wet as anything when I touched her. She was a bundle of contradictions and that made her unpredictable. And that made me excited.

  I only had to blink to see her up there, her ass spread, her body ready for me, her buttocks bright red and burning hot to the touch.

  I made a couple of sandwiches, adding a banana and a glass of water to the tray. I took my time, wanting her to feel uncomfortable, wanting this test to last a little longer.

  I ate my sandwich in the kitchen, disposing of the crumbs in the bin before kicking off my shoes. I collected her tray and tiptoed up the stairs, wanting to catch her unawares. I slid my feet across the landing, peering round the door into her bedroom. She was laid on her back with her hand between her legs. The little slut just couldn’t do what she was told.

  I was furious but I didn’t make a sound. I watched her in silence, seeing her fingers darting across her clit in a blur. She was clearly close to an orgasm, unable to wait to be given permission. I grinned. She was about to learn the consequences of disobeying me so blatantly. If she thought I’d been cruel so far, that was nothing compared to what I was about to do to her.

  SIXTEEN

  ZOEY

  I never heard a sound. I had been listening, what else could I do in that position? It felt strangely exciting to wait on my knees, my hands on my ass, feeling the heat of it on my palms from where he’d spanked me so severely.

  My pussy throbbed with need. He’d brought me to the brink of orgasm twice and then abandoned me, leaving me to clench and release my thigh muscles, trying to relieve the pressure that seemed to continue to grow by the second. Deep inside me, all I could think about was coming, nothing else mattered.

  The longer he was gone, the more I started to wonder. Maybe I could touch myself before he came back, get the orgasm I so desperately needed, quickly, quietly, then get back into position.

  I listened hard, there was still no sound. How long would it take him to get food? How long had he been so far? No more than a couple of minutes. And it was a big house. He’d definitely be gone a while.

  My limbs started to ache from being in that position for so long, my face pressing into the blanket, the clean smell of them assailing my nostrils.

  I let go of my buttocks, wincing as I did so, worried that he might leap out and yell at me for my crime, that this was just an
other test of my willingness to submit to him.

  He had touched me. Just thinking about it made me shiver. His firm hands had been between my legs, stroking my clit, dipping inside. He’d invaded my pussy, he hadn’t waited to be invited. He’d decided what to do and it felt incredible.

  I had no idea how he seemed to know without asking, but he did, all the things I liked the most, he did to me. That was why I was turned on beyond belief, beyond the ability to think rationally. I needed to come before I’d be able to think properly again.

  When nothing happened for thirty seconds after I took my hands from my ass, I slowly lifted my head, glancing around, looking for any sign of him.

  Nothing.

  I rolled onto my side, bringing my numb limbs back to life. Listening carefully, I laid on my back, spreading my legs, moving my hands to my clit, wanting to ease the ache that was overwhelming me.

  I was amazed how engorged it felt, swollen and sensitive. I only had to brush over it with the lightest touch for my heart to start to race. I couldn’t tease myself like he had, there wasn’t time.

  I moved my fingers from side to side, feeling the climax approaching already. Just another few seconds and it would hit me. It was coming, it was coming, almost here.

  My toes began to curl, my leg muscles turning rigid and I was just on the brink of coming when he burst into the room and grabbed my hand, pulling it away from me.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.

  “I’m sorry, Sir,” I blurted out, my hips still thrusting upwards.

  “Bend over.” His voice dripped with cold fury.

  I resigned myself to what was about to happen. I had broken his rules. I had disobeyed him. What did I expect would happen?

  On all fours on the bed with my pussy throbbing, I looked back over my shoulder as he raised his hand and brought it down onto my ass, sending me jolting forwards as he spanked me.

  “You are a bad girl!” he roared. “What are you?”

  “A bad girl, Sir. I’m a very bad girl.”

  “You will obey me.” Another smack, this one so hard I screamed in pain.

  “I will, Sir.”

  He smacked the tops of my thighs, the sensation too intense for me to handle. I almost fell forwards, managing somehow to remain in place as he spanked my thighs again.

  I let out a shriek as his hand landed directly on my clit. The intensity of that blow still coursing through me as he told me to turn round and face him.

  “That is what happens to girls who disobey me,” he said, pointing to the desk in the corner of the room. “Now sit there and eat.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said, my voice as weak as my legs when I tried to stand. I swayed my way across the room to the desk, sinking into the chair and looking at the plate. He must have silently entered the room and put it there without me noticing.

  Why had I shut my eyes? If I’d kept them open, I’d have seen him. But he was so quiet, I’d been sure I would hear his approach on the stairs.

  I picked up the sandwich as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Good?” he asked.

  I nodded, my mouth full of food.

  “Why did you agree to do this?”

  The question seemed to come from nowhere. I looked at him but he was staring out the window as if he couldn’t bear the sight of me.

  “I need the money,” I replied when I’d finished chewing. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “What do you need it for?”

  “To help my family.”

  “What are they like?”

  “My family? They’re lovely. I’m not sure what I’d do without them. What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “What’s your family like?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t have a family.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m not. Do you need anything else?”

  “This is fine, thank you.” I hadn’t realised how hungry I was until I had finished the first half of the sandwich.

  As the sting of his spanking faded and my desire for an orgasm was sort of under control, my body reminded me that it had been a long time since I’d eaten or drunk anything. I cleared the plate in record time, drinking the entire glass of water without stopping.

  “Still hungry?”

  I nodded.

  “There’re snacks in that drawer next to you. Books on the shelf. I have some work to do.”

  He stood up and walked out, closing the door behind him, leaving me wondering if I’d said something to offend him. He had started a conversation out of nowhere and ended it just as abruptly. I stood up and crossed to the chest of drawers.

  Pulling it open, I drew in a sharp gasp of breath. The entire top drawer was filled with sex toys. Dildos, vibrators, paddles, butt plugs, nipple clamps, and those were just the things I recognised. I began to wonder if he had perhaps not meant food when he asked if I was still hungry.

  SEVENTEEN

  ETHAN

  She was doing this to help her family. It was obvious after she’d said it but before then I had no idea. Mr Billionaire, the guy who made shareholders shake in their boots just by being in the same building, that guy was so stupid he hadn’t worked out her real reason for doing this.

  She didn’t want to obey me, she didn’t want to submit to me. She wanted to leave. But she was still here and it wasn’t because she was desperate to submit. I was an idiot to think so.

  She was putting up with what I’d done in order to help her family.

  I could have asked for details but I couldn’t stay in the bedroom with her any longer. I had to get out of there. Just the mention of family made me angry and anger was not good, not when I was already so cross with her for breaking the rules.

  I might have gone over the edge, I might have gone too far. Then I’d have to start again with someone else. The idea alone made me feel tired. I was giving my all to making this work.

  I found it hard to imagine caring about a family enough to put up with what she had. I’d locked her away, made her strip, spanked the hell out of her and tormented her until she was so addled with lust, she’d broken the rules.

  All because she wanted to help her family. What was so special about them? She was poor. That was obvious from her clothes and the way she’d nursed that glass of wine in the pub while I’d been trying to deal with Stephanie.

  Were they all poor? Was that it? It was hard to imagine. It had been a long time since I’d known what it was like to need more money than I had.

  My bank balance was higher than the one percent. When the papers and TV grumbled about the one percent not paying their taxes, that was me. I was worse than that. I vacuumed up businesses from the one percent to get me even higher, stamping on so many backs, it was impossible to distinguish them from the ground far below.

  I sat in my study, the drawer to the Emilia tin tightly closed. I had a glass of Scotch next to me and a half empty bottle next to that. I turned the bottle to face me, looking at the label. Glen McNair.

  Cheap. Twenty notes got you a litre of the stuff. It was what my father had always drunk and I’d picked up his habit.

  The label was a link to the past, the bottle was too. It was the same as the Emilia tin, a way of me trying to feel anything at all of any depth.

  I tried to think about my family, about why I’d been so angry when she mentioned hers. I worried that it might be jealousy but only for a moment.

  The idea was laughable. To think that I’d be jealous of someone like her, of a family so far down the ladder I wouldn’t even be able to see them.

  I found myself thinking about my family, wondering what they were up to now. There was my father, brought to mind by the bottle in my hand. Last I heard, he was still living in Whitby, spending most of his days painting. What kind of life was that?

  Were the kids still with him? My baby brother and sister? I doubted it. They would be in their twenties by now, off doing their own thing somewhere. I had
no idea where, they never even tried to get in touch anymore.

  My mother was dead. I knew that much. The newspapers had reported the crash, almost five years to the day after Emilia went. Someone up there had a bad sense of humour about that one.

  I hadn’t gone to the funeral. I hadn’t spoken to her for three years at that point. I saw no reason to antagonise the others by showing up. I also didn’t want to have to say goodbye. By not going, I could pretend she was just off somewhere like the rest of them.

  I drained the glass and poured myself another portion, raising it to the empty chair opposite mine. “To families,” I said out loud as I tipped another swig down my throat.

  They wouldn’t miss me. No one would. I wouldn’t miss them either. Good riddance to the lot of them. There was nothing I’d miss in this world.

  Then I thought of her. Zoey. Alone in her room. Would I miss her? Of course not.

  The thought was too sharp, too fast, as if it was shutting down any debate before it might emerge. I wouldn’t miss her. I hardly knew her. I didn’t know anything about her, not really. Sure, I knew what she looked like, how she reacted around me, but nothing deep, nothing real.

  So why did the thought of leaving her behind jab at me? What was that prick of my conscience that thinking of her had caused?

  The questions went away because I chose to ignore them. I wasn’t going down that route. I shook my head. “Nope,” I said out loud, getting to my feet. It was time to go to bed. Leave Emilia in the drawer, leave Zoey in the room. Leave my thoughts in the study where they belonged.

  But they wouldn’t stay there. They followed me along the corridors, keeping up with me even as I increased my pace until I was almost jogging up and down stairs. I spent twenty minutes walking round, trying not to think about her, about Emilia, about the differences between them.

  Zoey was different to the others who’d come here. I never felt the need to ask any of them why they needed the money. I didn’t care. All I cared about was breaking them.