CHAPTER 3 — BELLE
Are you sure?
I look into his eyes, and calm floods my body. It's the feeling I get after I drink my nightly mug of Sleepytime Tea.
I breathe in and summon my courage. “I’m just nervous because, um, it’s been a while. And there's a lot of guilt and stuff wrapped around sex for me. I like you… but I guess if I'm being honest with myself, I'm not sure if I am ready.”
I pause, considering my answer. It's tough because I don't really know what I want. At the same time, I know I don't want to be the one in charge here.
As if he can sense my confusion, Ajax interrupts my thoughts.$1“Did you like the little game we played outside the house, Belle?” he asks.$1“Where I told you to say 'red' if it was too much?”
I think back to that evening, the escalating game we played where I kept taunting him, pushing him. I was emboldened by the alcohol, flirting outrageously and saying things I never would have normally. It was fun.
Now that he’s said it, I realize that's exactly what I want.$1“Yes,” I say, exhaling.$1“I liked that.”$1“Me too, sweetheart,” he says. I feel warmth in my chest.
His eyes rake over my body, and I avert my gaze, suddenly feeling shy.$1“Why are you looking away from me?” he asks.
“I don't know,” I mumble. “I guess I'm shy?”
“You have nothing to be shy about, Belle. You’re absolutely fucking perfect. You know that, right?”
Warmth surges through my chest. For some reason, I believe him.
“Say it,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “Come on—”
He pinches my nipple, and electricity surges straight to my pussy. “Say it, Belle, or I'm going to have to punish you.”
I stare at him. I can't get myself to say it.
I'm not sure if he genuinely wants me to admit it, or if this is exactly what he expects and he just wants an excuse to punish me.
I'm not sure about my own motivations either.
Am I actually too shy to say it, or do I just want him to punish me?
I'm feeling tense, nervous, excited, turned on, so many things all at once that it's hard to parse my feelings and figure out what's driving me.
“On your knees, kitten,” he says.
I drop to my knees. I feel pressure between my legs and realize this is what I wanted.
Another thought hits me: Maybe he knows that.
He seems extraordinarily perceptive, and he's hinted at understanding the Christian guilt I carry around sex.
He obviously knows I like this, and it's also pretty clear that I have a hard time asking for it.
So maybe he's giving me an out here, giving me a way to get what I want while I can still save face internally. I can say no, act defiant, and then get what I want under the guise of his “punishment.” If he's doing this on purpose, it's kind of brilliant, actually.
Also, I get the sense that he doesn't exactly hate punishing me either, so it's not like I'm the only one benefiting.
“Open your mouth,” he says as he undoes his pants. I try not to gawk as he releases his cock and strokes it. “For your punishment, you’re going to suck my cock while you touch yourself, but you’re not allowed to come. Do you understand?”
I nod. He slides his cock into my mouth and grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. I feel embarrassed, turned on, and overwhelmed all at once. His cock is thick. My mouth aches as I try to accommodate him.
“Now be a good little slut and suck daddy’s cock.”
I twirl my tongue around his member and then slowly slide it down my throat. I start to get into a bit of a rhythm. I bob my head up and down his shaft, taking in as much of his length as I can.
He grabs my head and pushes it down. “I told you to touch yourself,” he says as I gag on his cock.
I reach between my legs, and he releases my head.
“Good girl. Play with that wet little pussy for daddy.”
The filthy words make my cheeks get hotter and my insides more jumbled. The heat in my core rises and spreads to my lower body.
“You’re going to swallow every last drop of my cum, Belle,” he says.
Oh, God. I notice how wet I am as I touch myself. I'm not sure if I'm imagining it, but I feel like I'm getting wetter with every dirty word he says.
“I want three fingers in that tight cunt,” he says, “and keep rubbing your clit for me.”
My insides clench, and my thighs tense as the tension between them builds. I follow Ajax’s instructions and feel myself getting more turned on.
“Imagine if your pastor saw you like this, Belle. What do you think he’d say if he saw you choking on my cock and fingering your needy little hole? Do you think he’d believe me if I told him you love the taste of my cock?”
Heat blooms across my chest, and the skin at the back of my neck prickles. I imagine the pastor watching me right now. Shame and arousal flood every nerve in my body.
He groans. “I love how your lips look wrapped around my cock, Belle. I can’t wait to fuck all of your wet little holes.”
Pleasure courses through me, and I feel a mini contraction. I’m getting close to coming.
“Don’t even think about coming, Belle, or I’ll spank your ass red and not let you wear panties for a week.”
Fuck. It’s too much. I tip over the edge, an orgasm crashing through my body.
I close my eyes as bliss washes over me. Something hot and salty spurts into my mouth, and I swallow the liquidy mixture.
Ajax groans, and a burst of pleasure ignites in my core. As my orgasm fades, a feeling of dread sets in.
I open my eyes, expecting Ajax to look angry.
He doesn’t.
He’s smirking.
Suddenly, I’m pissed off.
Why the hell is he smirking? Does this man take anything seriously?
He taps his lap. “Over my lap, Belle.”
My legs shake. My heart beats faster. The blood that was pooled between my legs starts to course through the rest of my body. Any sense of lingering calm I had evaporates. I feel alert. On guard. Like I just woke up from a dream.
I know what's about to happen. He's going to spank me.
And as much as that turns me on, for some reason, I feel like I cannot give in to him.
Maybe it's because I feel like I've already given in too much.
As much as I like what just happened, I'm feeling guilty already. So much for being strong and independent. I yielded like a 90-year-old senior citizen at a roundabout on her way to Denny’s.
I breathe in shallowly. I feel nervous. It reminds me of how I felt that night at the house party when I kept defying him. When I kept escalating things. It’s a sense of excited dread—the kind you get when you're about to do something that scares you, but that you want at the same time.
I know I just gave in to him, but he hasn't broken me down completely. Not yet. A girl can have a moment of weakness. That doesn't mean she's totally submitted.
“No, thanks,” I say, smirking. “You can go.”
He raises his eyebrows. I try to get a read on him but can’t. I'm expecting him to get angry or to argue with me. He does neither. He nods curtly and turns to leave. My stomach drops.
He walks to my door and then turns around at the last second to face me.
“If you invite me back, there will be consequences for coming without permission, angel,” he says, his face stone-cold and serious.
My stomach twists.$1“Wait,” I blurt out.$1“Are you actually mad at me?” I ask.
He smiles.$1“Why would I be mad? The brattier you act, the more reasons I have to punish you,” he says, his eyes twinkling.
My stomach flips, and I feel a small smile sneak across my face.$1“See you later, baby girl,” he says.
The door slams, and I flop back down on my bed.