Chapter 12 – Rage
Chapter Twelve
Rage
I have already lost control completely. What is wrong with me? I cooked dinner for her. She disobeyed my direct commands, forced me to wait hours and instead of immediately reprimanding Keyshawn and subjecting her to the roughest discipline imaginable, I spoil her with dinner.
She has the good sense to move away from the bed and allow me the space to sit. I tap my palm against my lap gently, guiding her where I need her. My cock is already semi-hard, although neither of us will be getting that much satisfaction tonight. She hasn't earned my cock yet.
"Come here," I command Keyshawn verbally when she shows hesitation about throwing her weight over my lap. The command works and she steps just close enough that I take hold of her wrist and guide her the rest of the way.
The rage of emotions surging through me only stops when I know that I have Keyshawn close enough that no fighting will work. I grab her waist and position her correctly over my lap, fully clothed. Her ass sticks up as she drapes over my thighs. My dick gets so hard from the physical contact that it nearly pokes into her and I have to force myself to have even more control. I touch her ass cheeks through her clothes. I bet she doesn't have those bruises anymore.
She's been away from me for too long. Keyshawn shudders as my hand roams possessively over her ass. My memories are absolutely crystal about how fucking sexy that ass really is.
Keyshawn has the perfect bubble butt.
"I missed this ass."
I don't expect her to respond. But she will. Soon. Once she gets over her little tantrum, she'll realize that I did this for both of us. You don't find a sexual connection like this too often and when you do... it's rarely with a woman who would be a suitable partner. Slowly, I peel the pants away from Keyshawn's ass and slide them halfway down her thighs.
Her underwear clings to her ass with some of the fabric buried between her cheeks. I push my fingers beneath the elastic band and pull the fabric from between her butt cheeks. Fuck, she smells delicious. It might be sick, but I like the scent of an unwashed woman. Especially this one.
Once I tease the contours of her underwear, I slide it down her ass cheeks and want to choke with disappointment when I find her butt completely healed.
No marks of mine remained. She's been gone long enough that her body has forgotten me and judging by the way she tried to escape, Keyshawn wants to forget me.
That won't happen. I take the belt from my side and touch her bare ass again before I bruise it up.
"You shouldn't have left me for so long," I whisper. "I remember how long it took this pretty black ass to show some bruises. You're giving me more work."
I waited far too long to come face to face with her perfect black ass again. I hate that she has no more bruises left and I fully intend to change that with my belt. My hand dips between her thighs slightly because I want to feel her juices. But she isn't wet enough to drip down her thighs... yet. The absence of her juices angers me. But I need to keep some control, so I force myself to touch and fondle her longer before striking her.
She can feel the shift in my demeanor. My heart throbs from noticing this adaptation. Her body has already tuned to mine despite the time that passed between our last encounters, like she remembers me. I left a mark deeper than the bruises. My cock jerks in my pants. I can't stand waiting another minute.
I strike Keyshawn's bare ass with the belt, waiting for her to yelp. I saw the way her face changed when I removed it. Fear. Pure terror. She chose the paddle the first time because this weapon scares her. But despite her fear, she only flinches. No yelping, just her hamstrings growing taut with tension. Her ass cheeks look even thicker.
The belt cut her. My heart pounds. No bruises, but a cut. Those will damage her flesh much more deeply than the bruises. She'll hurt for longer. My head swims with indecision. Isn't the point here to teach her a lesson about running away? About disobedience?
I push whatever conscience I have to the back of my mind. Guilt has no place here. I listen to Keyshawn's breathing, wait for her exhalations to become steady, then I smack her ass with the leather belt again. The sound cracks through the air. Her body tenses, but she's done giving me the satisfaction of flinching. Of any response.
My fury rises to the surface and I smack her ass three more times in succession, desperate to break her. Keyshawn tolerates so much pain. She shows absolutely no physical outward signs of her pain. But I know this must hurt her. I left three large gashes on her ass cheeks.
Guilt surges. I'm pushing her too far. I'm too angry. I touch the insides of her thighs again. Fuck. She's soaked. Her juices dribble down the insides of her thighs and despite my heavy-handed ass whooping, Keyshawn is soaking wet.
"Why don't you cry out?" I growl in complete, genuine frustration with her. Part of me blames her for pushing me this far. I need... something from her... I don't quite know what it is, but the uncomfortable and strange emotion brings me straight to anger.
"Why should I?"
"Because I'm hurting you."
She doesn't answer. My dick throbs again and I desperately want her to say something. Anything. I want her to fix my confusion.
"I know," she says. Then she shudders and more of her juices slide down her legs. Visible, clear, whitish juices leak from her pussy lips and form a trail down her legs. Shame? Desire? Both?
"There's nothing wrong with getting wet," I tell her, pushing my finger into the juices and scooping them all the way back where they came from, gently opening her lower lips and sliding my fingers inside her. She squirms when I enter her.
It's enough of a response to make my heart race even faster. I remove my finger quickly before I cum in my pants and embarrass myself.
"Why should I stop? Have you learned your lesson?"
"You kidnapped me. You realize that's wrong? That any normal human being would be scared?"
"I only did this because you won't give me a chance and I'm only keeping you here so you can get used to me and understand my intentions."
"Did that work for your previous relationships?" she asks. "Or did you bury them out in the desert. "
Previous relationships? I haven't had time for relationships. I can't stand the thought of not knowing where my old lady is at every hour of the day. I understand why Ruger Blackwood did what he did. I would have done the same thing in his position, except killing Darlene wouldn't have been an accident. I mean, I might not have directly killed her, but any woman who cheats on me would end up dead.
If I enter a "relationship", I take it completely seriously with no games whatsoever. You can't find that in this day and age. You want to spend time with a woman and find yourself in a fucked up adversarial debate about gender roles.
"What works in my relationships is when a woman is completely and entirely obedient without ever questioning my word."
She laughs, which upsets me. I almost strike her ass again, but withhold my darker urges. For now. I drop my belt to the ground and touch her smooth ass tenderly.
"For example, I think right now you have earned some time upstairs. A warm bath. And a cuddle. Once you're asleep, I'll bring you back down here."
She squirms with discomfort, but she doesn't say anything. She knows that she can’t fight me directly.