The phone rings, startling me. It's Him. I'm not surprised. He usually calls this time of night to hear all about how my day was on His way home to the love of His life. His life partner. His best friend. Today was not a good one and I'm snippy. Short-tempered. Not in the mood for anyone else's shit. Taking it out on Him intentionally.
"Watch your tone, girl," He fires back, agitated by my disrespectful behavior toward Him.
"Or what?" I snap.
"You'll find out soon," He threatens. Click. Phone hangs up on me.
Oh damn! I've angered Sir. Ooooh, so scared.
I'm so stressed and agitated with one of those days you just want to be mad for a while. One of those days where if it can go wrong, it does. It occurs to me that I'm about to be punished. Not even caring, even looking forward to it.
Busy bee in the kitchen, I'm slamming dishes around trying to clean as a way of keeping my hands and mind occupied, a little trick of mine when I'm feeling irritated, annoyed, agitated, or wrathful, when the front door flies open. I don't even notice. That is until He comes up behind me, forcefully shoving my hips into the counter with His body, pushing my back over until my face is in the sink, forcing me to release the cup and washcloth in my hands, after immediately dropping everything He has in His hands to the floor. Grabbing my arms and placing them a little more than shoulder-width apart, kicking my feet out the same width, and grabbing a full fist of hair that He yanks back onto His chest. He came in with a ferocious vengeance!
"Make a sound or move even an inch from this position and it will be worse. Understand?" He whispers against my ear. I can feel Him through His pants damn near bursting at the seams. The wetness begins.
"Yes Sir."
Such a devious little shit I am! He's completely unaware I did that shit on purpose so He'd tear me up!
He slowly begins sliding His hands up the curves of the arms He loves so much, exposed by the spaghetti-strap red tank, over my shoulders, and down the back until He reaches the hem of the top of my white floor-length skirt. Suddenly, He pulls it down with both hands quickly, fiercely, letting it fall to the floor, exposing the red lace panties I'd worn for Him. He smiles. Snatches them down. Then I hear it. The clanking as he rips the belt from His pants. A 40-inch black Dickies genuine leather one with a nickel double-pronged buckle. His favorite both for work...and punishment because of the marks it leaves, not to mention the sting.
Whack! The first strike hits the bare skin of the right cheek. Painful right out the gate. I wince and whimper.
