by Shannon West
He was right about some things though. Standing in the kitchen, naked, with my hands in a sink full of hot soapy water and dirty dishes, did tend to make me question my life choices. I’d asked Memphis for a flogging after our latest argument, but this is what he’d given me instead. This punishment was supposed to change my attitude. Memphis said a flogging would only “reinforce my bad behavior by giving me what I wanted.”
I liked floggings, ergo, they were bad for me.
He also gave me plenty of “rewards” for my good behavior. He had a theory that the more sex we had, the better I acted, and it was hard to disagree with that. Sex with Memphis Sawyer was off the charts hot and literally wore me out. Just thinking about it made my hands sweat while I had them immersed in hot water—that’s how good it was.
But I wasn’t so sure this punishment was working, because while I pretty much hated every second of it, I was also angry with the one who gave it to me, which fueled my displeasure and made me want revenge, and which would only earn me more punishments in the long run. It was a vicious cycle. Or was that Memphis’s evil plan all along?
Meanwhile Memphis was lolling about in the bathtub, soaking his sore muscles after our trainer tried to kill us earlier in practice. Me? He was making me stand on my poor, aching bare feet washing fucking dishes, while my glutes, hamstrings, and quads were killing me after the hellacious workout we’d endured. And my stupid dick was hard enough to crack walnuts
At least, somebody was enjoying this.
I shifted my feet, reached for the pot we’d cooked spaghetti in last night and got back to my revenge fantasies. I’d already discarded the more obvious methods—like green dye in his shampoo or itch powder in his jock strap. Too showy and he was bound to know it was me who’d done it. Besides, by immediately retaliating against him, I’d just be adding energy to the situation and strengthening his resolve. I would also be exposing my position. No, revenge was a dish best served cold, so I had to be smart and subtle. I wasn’t sure what I’d do just yet, but I hoped it would come to me. I wasn’t going to just let him “love the meanness out of me” like I knew the smug bastard had been doing the past few times we’d had an argument. Not this time!
Would washing several days’ worth of dishes that we’d stacked in the sink change my attitude so I would never get this punishment again? Damn Skippy, it would. From now on when we had an argument, I’d make sure I didn’t get caught. I wouldn’t tell him to his face what a dick I thought he was. I wouldn’t tell him he was a douchebag either or question his parentage. I definitely wouldn’t throw a vase at him or use his favorite shirt as a rag to wash my car. From now on, I’d just think about all of those things and the sweet satisfaction I could get from it. I’d think about it a lot.
I heard the bathroom door close and his soft footsteps coming down the hall, but it was still a surprise when his arms slipped around my waist and he began nuzzling my neck. I guess he decided to make nice now that I’d followed his orders. Me following his orders always put him in a good mood. I hated it that my knees went a little weak when he bit down on my earlobe, and I tried my best to ignore him. Kind of hard to do, though, when his big—and also very naked and very hard—cock was pressing against my ass.
“Still mad at me, fireball?” he said, his breath gusting in my ear, because he knew what that did to me.
“I’m not speaking to you,” I said, shying away from him as I rinsed a dish and put it on the rack.
He laughed softly and slowly licked up the side of my neck, making me shudder deliciously. “You just did.”
I slammed a cup onto the counter and grabbed the dishtowel. I not only had to wash them, but dry them and put them in the cabinets. Neatly. And not break any of them in the process, damn it. “Well, I won’t speak to you anymore.”
“Not ever?”
I shook my head, pushing the towel vigorously inside the cup to dry it.
“So I guess that means you’re not interested in letting me take you back to the club Saturday night? Ben’s going to be there. You said how nice he was to you at the club that night and you wished you could thank him.”
I shrugged disinterestedly, and hung the cup up on a hook inside the cabinet. Forcefully.
“He’s planning to do a demonstration with the St. Andrew’s cross. He’s looking for a boy to help him with it. He asked me about you, and I thought you’d really like it. It would be a way to show your appreciation.”
“Hmmph,” I said, and gave him a hard shove with my hip to get him off me.
He moved right back in and pressed against me harder, still nuzzling. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you? It’s an invitation only party. Closed to the public, so no worries there. You’d be the perfect choice, because you’re so hot. So beautiful.”
I rinsed off another dish, thought about slamming it against the side of his head, but instead dried it off with rough, jerky movements.
He reached around my waist and put his hands on my nipples, pinching both of them so hard it brought tears to my eyes and I sagged back against him and moaned. “Just think about it, fireball. You’d look so gorgeous under those lights, your perfect skin against the leather.” He kissed his way down my neck to my shoulder and bit it at the same time he gave my nipples a caress and then another, even harder pinch. “I’ll take you to a private room before, so I can pinken up that pretty ass of yours and get you ready. But once you get on stage, no one will touch you but me—I promise. Everyone will be watching, wishing you belonged to them, but I’ll be the one to strap you to the cross, and I’ll be the one to take you back down. You’ll be all sweaty and perfect then, too, and I’ll hold you on my lap, your back to my chest so you can rub in the burn and bite and I can lick this gorgeous skin. Everyone there will be wishing they could have you, but you’ll belong only to me.”
I shuddered again as his words washed over me, painting that delicious picture, and I let him turn me in his arms to kiss me, pushing me backward over the sink as he ground his groin into mine. He made a little growling noise, stepping in even closer and wedging his knee between my legs so I could ride his thigh. Those lush, perfect lips of his came down over mine in a frantic, devouring kiss. His hands moved down to cup my ass, and I curled my fingers around his neck and clung to him. He kissed my cheeks, my ears, my nose and then moved back to my lips again. He encouraged me to rub myself against his thigh and we spent some quality time kissing for a while. God, the man could kiss. His cock was straining against me, and it was getting harder to breathe.
“I want you,” he moaned against my lips.
I looked up at him, almost out of breath, but able to gasp out, “Take me, then.” I nipped at his neck, breaking the skin the slightest bit and almost brought the blood to the surface, but then remembered what a bad idea it would be if his dad or our teammates noticed. We were still in hiding about our relationship to everybody but just a few of our closest friends at Memphis’s club. I licked at his throat hungrily instead and nuzzled my nose into his neck. I pulled him back into a lingering kiss. He liked my aggressiveness during lovemaking and always encouraged it. He wanted me to be frantic for him, and it didn’t take much to make me that way. Not with him. He bit my lip, holding onto it with his teeth and giving me a tiny bit of the pain I craved. God, my cock felt swollen and heavy. I reached down and rubbed it, but he pushed my hand off my dick and then wrapped his own around it possessively. He looked down at me and shook his head.
“That’s mine. Hands off.” Desperate for more friction against it, I moaned and pushed up harder into his hand.
“Please,” I begged and he rasped his jaw against mine. “Please.” My cock responded by twitching harder.
“I love it when you beg.” I buried my hot, pink face in his shoulder and he pushed off from the sink where he was leaning and walked toward the bedroom with me wrapped around him. He was so strong—stronger than I was, but I reveled in that strength. I needed it and counted on it to always be there.
When
we got to his bedroom, where I now slept with him in his bed every night, he laid me down and stretched out beside me. He reached for the lube in the side table, then stroked my ass, easing a finger into me and massaging and stretching. All the while he kept murmuring soft words to me, telling me how sweet I was and how beautiful. It wasn’t that I believed him, but it still felt like he was pouring a soothing balm right into my soul—no one had ever said things like that to me before. Or if they had, I’d never noticed it. I noticed everything about Memphis and I always had.
He flipped me over on my stomach and I spread my legs, anticipating what he was about to do. I was shivering some—not because I was cold, but in anticipation, and because I wanted him so much. I heard the sound of a wrapper tearing and I knew he was putting on a condom. I wondered how it would feel without one—him so deep inside me. He was a stickler about things like that though, and he lectured me a lot about why I should be too, and how I didn’t have to worry about it too much anyway, because there wouldn’t ever be any other men for me. Only him. Always him.
I knew it was just bedroom talk, but it gave me a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. After a few more seconds, Memphis’s broad finger breached me again, and this time it was slippery with lube. He was breathing raggedly by this time. His slick fingers danced down my crease and massaged into me again. “Spread yourself for me, fireball,” he murmured, and I blushed like hell, but I reached behind myself and grabbed my hips, spreading myself for him. “Let me in. Push out a little. That’s it.”
The pressure began to ease after a moment and then a second finger joined the first. This time the stretch made me groan—the fingers slipped in and out for a while as the other hand smoothed across my ass and my thighs. He touched my prostate and that lit me on fire. I pushed back for more.
“There?” His voice was thick with arousal.
“Oh God, yes. More—harder.”
He obliged me with another finger and even more rubbing and I was getting close. He didn’t like it when I came too soon, so he was working on my control. Sometimes he made me wear a cock ring, but not today, so I was trying my best not to disappoint him.
“Don’t come,” he whispered and I nodded back frantically.
“So good for me. So sweet.”
I whimpered, and then to my horror I couldn’t seem to stop. I was so close and it felt so good.
“Shhh...” he said, soothing me and dropping a kiss on my ass cheek. I felt the head of his big, thick cock, bumping against my entrance. He nudged it inside, stretching me way more than his fingers had. Gradually, I felt my muscles give way. I pushed out again and then he was sliding inside me. My body was still adjusting around him, but he stroked in a few times and found my prostate again, and I arched against him and thought I could come from just this, without any touch to my cock.
“You feel so good around me. Such a sweet ass—and all mine.”
My cock stiffened even more at the dirty talk. The burn was gone now and I felt stuffed and full and totally owned. He rocked against me over and over. I’m pretty sure there was begging involved, and some cursing and more pleading, as I pushed my ass back against him, asking for more, harder. My head fell back on his shoulder as he pulled me up to him, and he couldn’t seem to get me close enough to him. He kept up a steady rhythm, pounding into me now. He reached under me and lightly stroked his hand over my cock and I shivered hard. Then he wrapped his hand around me and squeezed me tighter, stroking up and down.
“Come for me,” he said and I came hard, the white spurts shooting out of me and soaking his hand and the bed. It felt like I was dying, it felt so good. I reached around and held onto his hip as I felt him begin to come hard inside me.
Finally, his climax faded, and he sagged forward, his body still reacting with little jerks. I could feel the heat of his cum filling my ass inside the condom. He was tall enough that his lips were by my ear and I couldn’t resist turning my face to get another kiss from him. He opened his eyes to stare into mine, and we just gazed into each other’s eyes for a long moment. It was sappy as hell, but right then I felt like if I could be with him like this for the rest of my life, I’d never ask for anything more.
“Are you okay?”
“I-I think so.” I was breathing a little hard, but so was he. “That was pretty intense.”
“Oh, it’s not over yet,” he said, sliding out of bed. He went to the bathroom to get rid of the condom, then pulled open the drawer again by the bed to pull out another one. I was still dazed from the intensity of my orgasm, but he flipped me over on my back and smiled down at me while he smoothed it on. “You need a little more of that meanness fucked out of you yet.” He was still only half hard, but his powers of recovery were amazing, and I knew he wasn’t through with me by a long shot. He climbed back on the bed and began to trail one hand down my side as he looked me over.
“Open your legs,” he instructed and when I did, my tired muscles screaming in protest, he bent to lick the crease of my thigh, right at the juncture of my groin. He licked both sides in turn, making me buck my hips, little aftershocks of my orgasm shuddering through me. He looked up at me and grinned. “You were probably standing there at the sink thinking up ways to get back at me, weren’t you?” He picked my half-hard cock up in his hand and nipped at the head of it, then licked a stripe all the way down it and nuzzled my balls. “Weren’t you?”
“Unnhh, yes…maybe a little,” I moaned, and he laughed softly.
“What did you decide on? ‘Accidentally’ washing a red shirt with my underwear to dye it pink? Pepper juice inside my condoms? Purple dye in my shampoo?”
“Green. Though I decided against it. The pepper juice idea has a certain flair to it, though.”
He chuckled again and shook his head. “You’re so bad.” He straddled me, then laid across my chest with his forearms by either side of my head. His lips were only an inch away. “We’ve talked about this passive aggressive streak of yours. And it’s not going to get you a punishment like you want. You know the rules.”
I sighed, because I did know. For me, pain and pleasure were too closely related. For too many years I’d hidden from my deepest desires, thinking that they were dangerous and shameful. Memphis had helped me see that, but I was still a work in progress. He’d finally made me see I needed to talk with a psychologist.
I had looked around on line for one and found Dr. Marsh by reading all the reviews about her. I’d been seeing her for only three weeks now, but she was already making me see that I’d learned as a child to concentrate on achievement in sports and in school as a way to dismiss the emotions and desires I felt. When it got too hard to do, I used the pain of cutting myself to help me focus again. It had the added bonus of giving me the pain I craved.
Dr. Marsh was helping me learn that I had a right to my sexual desires, and Memphis was giving me a safe place to learn to trust. With Memphis, for the first time, when I gave total control over my body to him, I could allow myself to feel sexy and desirable. Like I belonged to him. I wasn’t there yet—not all the way, but I was getting there.
When Memphis and I were in a scene together, my eyes drifted shut and peaceful energy flowed through me. With each addition of pain or restraint, I fell into a deeper calm, a deeper peace, waiting to obey him. Wanting it. Needing it. He had taught me that sometimes I had to be tied up to be free.
Still, I was a mouthy sub. A brat, he called me. But I also knew he loved it. That was one thing about me he liked just fine and didn’t want to ever change.
“I think,” he said, “that I’m going to put my mouth on every inch of you. And my tongue too. Then I’m going to get a head start on tonight by spanking that pretty ass of yours with you lying across my lap, and then maybe finish up by sinking my cock inside you where it belongs.”
“Promises, promises…” I taunted breathlessly, because I wanted him to get started already. “You talk too much.” My cock had gotten hard again while he talked, and I was squirming ben
eath him. I hated that I was so needy for him.
Actually, I loved it. But I still had to tease and taunt. “All that talk is going to make me come before you ever get started.”
He quirked an eyebrow at me and smiled. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” he said, and turned to pull a cock ring out of the drawer beside the bed while my eyes got wide. “You might be paying for a long time. Maybe we’ll put this cock ring back on again Saturday night too, for the demonstration. Can’t have you coming without permission, now can we? After all, only good boys get to come.”
Chapter Nine
Kingston
That was on a Tuesday and the next day I had an appointment with my advisor to talk to him about making some changes in my schedule. I’d finally decided to take control of my classes and not allow my father to railroad me into a job I hated. I had no interest in his company, and I didn’t relish the idea he had of me joining it when I graduated. I couldn’t even imagine working for my father for the rest of my life.
I visited my advisor to talk about obtaining a graduate degree in Education instead. He was surprised when I told him I’d decided I wanted to teach, but showed me how I could add a few Computer Science classes to my Business major and have a subject I could teach in high school and even middle school. I only needed a couple of classes, and I could easily get in enough hours to accomplish that before graduation. Then I’d just have my student teaching to do in order to be able to teach grades seven through twelve.
I wouldn’t be able to finish that before graduation, but I was willing to start my Master’s program right afterward, and I could finish it there. It would take a little longer, but I thought it was worth it. I loved the idea of one day being able to teach kids and also coach football, so for the first time I actually began to look forward to going to class. My life was finally beginning to look as if it might actually work out.
Like the poet said, though, “nothing gold can stay,” so I knew it wouldn’t be long before my parents found out about my new classes and came to talk to me about them. My father checked my grades religiously, and I knew he’d see the new classes show up online next semester, but I thought I had until then to talk to him. I didn’t think he’d take it upon himself to call my advisor the very next damn day to talk to him about my grades when I let one of my classes slip to a ‘B’ average.
