Saturday night, date night, and she had received her orders, the same as every week. Each week they would take it in turns to pick where they went, Italian this week, but he would always choose her outfit. For tonight he had picked black skinny jeans and a long sleeved blouse, that hugged tight around her slender waist and her generous breasts. Both chosen for the fact that they showed off her fantastic curves, whilst hiding as much of her skin as possible, since it was still marked in red and black and blue. Luckily he'd also chosen a nice warm jacket for her, since it was a chilly evening and she was stood outside of the restaurant waiting for him.
Finally she saw him, half-jogging towards her from around the corner. He was dressed for the cold too, with a jumper over his white shirt, and brown leather boots that meant he towered over her even more than usual.
"Hey, sorry I'm late" he apologised, bending down to kiss her. His lips were cold from the chilling wind, but she felt the heat within him still. He never disappointed on date night, and his kiss meant it had started.
"It's okay," she replied, "but I'm cold now so you owe me a drink to warm me up."
"Okay, that's fair" he agreed with a smile, leading them towards the entrance, wrapping an arm tight around her. She flinched as he touched the marks he had left, which were all still sensitive and sore. He knew what he was doing, and chuckled as she gave him a hard stare.
Dinner, as ever, was gorgeous. She enjoyed pasta and a few glasses on wine, while he had pizza, whilst they chatted about nothing in particular.
"Wanna get dessert?" she asked
"I'm okay, but feel free if you want to though," he replied. "But," he continued with a smirk, "I've got another treat in store for you."
"A treat huh?" she teased back, as her mind raced considering the possibilities. Each idea that flooded her overactive imagination sent sparks down her spine, and made her wriggle a little in her chair. Subtlety she undid a button of her blouse to show off a little of her cleavage, as he replied,
"Oh yeah, something you'll really love. Something sweet, and hot..."
"Oh," she giggled, "is it a chocolate cake?"
"Not exactly," he replied with a laugh.
"That's a shame," she pouted.
"Why don't you let me get the bill?" He suggested "and I'll tell you about your sweet treat on the way home."
"Okay," she purred.
The taxi ride home was mercifully short. The bruises on the back of her thighs made it uncomfortable to sit in a car as it bounced over speed bumps, and his hand rested on what he knew was a sore spot. Subtly she tried to move his hand from it, by shuffling or crossing her legs or holding his hand in hers, but each time his hand found another place to rest that was uncomfortable for her.
The taxi pulled to a halt near her flat, and she stepped out, leaving him to settle the fare, and immediately dashed for the building's door, to spend as little time as possible in the cold. A lift was already at the ground floor when she pressed the call button, and she quickly darted in and chose her floor, aiming a cheeky wink at her date as the doors closed in front of him.
She was perched on the end of her bed, shoes and jacket removed, blouse unbuttoned to the bottom of her chest by the time he stepped into her flat.
"That wasn't very nice" he joked, as he hung his leather jacket up.
"No," she replied, "it wasn't."
"And you know what happens to girls who aren't nice?"
"No, I don't." She lied, "you'll have to show me."
Swiftly he stormed over the room, and gripped her tight around the throat, pulling her to her feet.
"This," he barked "is what happens to bad girls."
Her heart raced at his words, and at the crushing feeling of his hand on her neck. For a long moment he held her like that, staring hard into her big brown eyes with an evil glare, watching her grow more panicked as she struggled at his hand. Finally he relented, dropping her back to the bed.
"Oh, is that all? Maybe I wanna be bad then," she teased, wiggling her body back and forth.
Again he went for her throat, in one movement wrapping his fingers around her neck and pushing her down onto the bed, as he straddled her.
"Maybe you wanna feel my hand around your neck?" He asked. "Maybe you want me to choke the fuck out of you? Maybe you wanna hurt?" His other hand slapped her across her cheek, and she let out a surprised squeal.
"Yes" she panted back, "but you'll need to do better than that to hurt me."
She saw the anger flash over his eyes as he heard what she'd said. He drew a slow breath through gritted teeth, and tightened his grip. As his eyes narrowed, and focused, hers grew wide. Her vision began to blur as he stared her down.
"How's this?" He growled. She tried to reply, her mind full of insults and witty retorts, but the words wouldn't form. "How's this?" He grunted, slapping her hard across the face, making her whimper. "Answer me when you're spoken to!"
The grip around her neck released, and she drew a long wheezing breath, filling her burning lungs with fresh air.
"Do better" she spat, doing her best not to show how much his slap was stinging.
