Author's Foreword: This series has themes of romance, sex, friendship, humor, safe and consensual BDSM, and above all, intimacy and the concept of memory. Any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental. I want you, reader, to come away with more empathy, appreciation, and joy for yourself and others than you began. As I did when writing this.
Note on Part 9: I wanted the writing pendulum to swing away from lyrical and more towards physical. Also, we return to some light BDSM for our little pair. We'll see where the next one takes us. As always, I sincerely appreciate your ratings, follows, and especially comments.
***Early Summer***
"Again," I said. Erin, sprawled in my lap with her head leaned back onto my shoulder, was still gasping from the one she'd just finished. She smelled of lilac and semen, hair plastering to me as she whimpered and begged for a rest.
"You can end this game whenever you want to," I reminded her, "But until then, you'll do what I say. Makes you wonder why we haven't stopped yet, doesn't it?" I felt her shift against me, attempting to angle her body so she could face me.
"Ah-ah," I corrected, tugging at the leash that was clipped to her collar, "No turning around yet. Come on, Pet." Pouting, she scooted forward in my lap and spread her legs back into a wide near-split, beginning to massage her pussy for me, watching herself masturbate in the standing mirror just a few feet away.
"Look at that goddamn fox," I rumbled, playing with long pauses between my words to pull her along, "Lithe. Flexible. Sexy. All those freckles, those curls. That incredible, pretty, needy little slit. And you're doing exactly what I say because you fucking love it. Such a good, good girl." I smacked her firm bubble of an ass for emphasis and she started to struggle with her rhythms, her body screaming to me that she was close. I was learning that the timing between her orgasms got shorter the longer she went. She begged me for another slap, and I gave her what she wanted with more than a little force. She shouted in un-protest and rubbed herself harder.
"Turn around," I said, enjoying her obvious pleasure at the timbre of my voice, "the mirror's seen enough for tonight." She reversed faster than I could have guessed, frantically reaching down to bring me out.
"Ssst," I admonished. She stopped, breathing heavily, locking furious eyes with me. There it was: the fire. I cupped her between her legs, fingers sliding over and into her as easily as wading into a perfumed river. She gasped and tilted her head back.
"No, Kitten," I said with another soft pull of the leash, "Look at me. I want to see it in your eyes. The whole time. If you can manage it, then I'll give you what you want." She nodded and we stole a searing kiss before my fingers began a gentle, quick, rolling tickle that started inside her and ended on her clit, each lift-and-return dragging another shiver from her.
"Harder," she urged, "Faster. All the way in. Do that - that thing. Yes, tha- shit!" My fingers went fully into her before curling back against her upper roof, quickly massaging the one spot that had a different, telling texture.
The next part wasn't planned, but sometimes those are best. Instincts are like smells. You follow them without knowing why sometimes, and they lead you to places your genes know about but always shroud in mystery from your waking mind.
I wrapped the leash once more around my hand, taking away the slack between us and pulling in with a slow creak of the leather, feeling the connecting tension between my bicep and her spine by a simple bit of animal skin. The look on her face was crashing illumination.
Erin's hands shot forward and gripped my shoulders like talons while her back arched to make the leash even more taut, gilded eyes boring into me as she climaxed.
"Fuck yes," she gasped, tensing and releasing in waves. She lunged forward to breathe one word against my ear.
"... Again."
***
***Mid Summer***
Erin had been the worst fucking brat all evening. I'd asked her to, but she'd really brought the heat and impressed me with how much of a bitchy, uncooperative, entitled little shit she could be and still inspire a sense of lustful admiration. She'd especially ramped up when I didn't react to it or take her to task. I'd made a show of writing down what she'd done and saying I thought she'd known better, but otherwise ignored her. Those impossible eyes of hers made it *so* hard.
Sure, I'd spanked her briefly over my knee, but nothing close to what I'd repaid her for much smaller transgressions before. We eventually fucked before turning in somewhat early, and it was good, but largely speaking I think she'd gone to bed with a certain degree of disappointment and loss about the apparent dud of a Silence game. If it had been earlier in summer, she might have kicked me out. She barely kissed me goodnight before rolling away and going to sleep.
All's fair in love and war. And all warfare is deception.
My phone alarm went off and I quickly silenced it before sneaking off to the bathroom. It was about three in the morning, and I wondered how much I actually cared. I could just as easily go back to sleep for another four or five hours and still get the point across afterwards. The guy in the mirror certainly wanted to go back to sleep, but the thought of catching Erin off guard was too exciting, and all of me was starting to wake up. Besides, if I waited until daylight, she might think I was trying to make up for the previous day. No, she needed to understand that this had been the notion all along. I washed my face, fixed my bedhead, brushed my teeth, and put on some cologne, then reached under the sink for the hand duffel I'd stashed.
When I returned to the bedroom, she was sprawled on her back in the middle of the bed, barely breathing, still naked under the top sheet and thin summer blanket. Earlier that evening, I had installed the under-bed restraint system in a few minutes while she was occupied, and it had been easy to conceal afterwards. I'd left the cuffs open when I stashed it, and my preparation was about to pay off.
My heart pounded in anticipation as I attached a cuff to one wrist, then the other, pulling her arms wide. She murmured in her sleep and shifted slightly, making her small breasts sway briefly. Dammit, I wanted to wake her with something savagely appreciative. Sticking to a plan was so difficult with her. Though her eyes were still shut, her face started to crinkle, and I hurried up. I got the cuffs attached to her ankles, leaving her loosely spread-eagled as she was about to come around. The sheet made a long, whispering sound when I tugged it away.
I eased my way down and began to eat her out with all the time in the world. Erin groaned, writhed, then gasped as she woke up and looked down her torso to me.
"Wha..." she mumbled, before realizing she couldn't move, testing her wrists and ankles.
"Shh," I urged, enjoying how her pleased sounds shifted into a small screech when I bit her thigh, then her navel.
"Someone's hungry," she joked, still half-dreaming. I didn't reply, instead moving to straddle her face, cock resting on her cheek.
"Open." Well, her face seemed to say, if you want to play, let's play.
"Gotta try harder than that," she said as she turned her head away, picking up where she'd left off a few hours before. She clamped her lips together.
"Not really," I replied as I gently but firmly pinched her nose shut.
It wasn't long before she started to struggle, and a few moments later she opened her mouth and gasped. I moved my hand to hold her forehead back by her hair, then picked up the handwritten list of her transgressions from the night stand and showed it to her.
"Congratulations: you annoyed me. So I decided to get you up early enough to show how sorry you are to me today."
"Promises, promises." Her smoky glare dared me to do something about it, to make good on her expectations of me and the fact that I'd woken her up.
With a shrug, I set the list to one side and then retrieved my little bag, setting it down on the nightstand next to her. I pulled out a new toy and laid it across her stomach. It was a polished, solid, flexible leather paddle about the length of my forearm, with a smooth plastic handle. Her eyebrows went up.
"Don't forget," I said directly, breaking character but not intent, "Be safe and communicate. I'm only in charge as long as you want me to be. We take care of each other. We know our safe words. I'm just me, you're just you. Ready for some fun?"
"You sneak!" she giggled while stretching as best able, "You planned this. Hell yeah I'm ready. Make me the *best* girl."
"Oh, I will. Now... open."
She seemed to roll the notion around in her head for a moment before refusing again. I shrugged and picked up the paddle, letting it slowly drag across her flat stomach. My hand traced her body with it, up her ribs and under her jaw, then down past her hips and knees, indulging in the prolonged hiss of leather on her skin.
