15. Spanking is a love language
It’s been days since I last talked to Giulia, and it’s the purest form of torture I’ve ever experienced.
After the fundraiser where she clearly repeated she was just pretending, though her pussy fluttered on my fingers with no need of an audience, I respected her need for space. I did what I’ve never done in my life. I relented. I obeyed instead of taking what I desire most.
Do people not fucking realise how difficult it is to go against every instinct you have?
Thank God, I can fill myself up with images of her frame sleeping soundly in my house. She hasn’t even tried to lock her door again.
She’s becoming more and more impossible to resist, especially when she showed me her jealous side. It fed the beast inside me that needs to feast on her.
I revelled in how we strategised after meeting with the Dobrevs. I never intended on hiding it from her, I want her to be as involved as she wants, and if it means not at all, I’ll respect that. Or at least, I’ll try.
I need her lips on mine more than I fucking need to breathe. I need another taste of her before I lose my fucking mind and beat someone to death. With the unspent energy I have left in my body, it wouldn’t be surprising especially since I’m nowhere close with the murder investigation.
As always, it’s early when I leave the house to meet Mike in West Hill. The sun hasn’t even risen yet, as the crisp end of November air blows my long hair off my face. I put on my leather jacket on top of a charcoal grey cashmere sweater and the usual dark jeans, adding a silk scarf that belonged to my father to keep me warm.
Holiday season is upon us and we have to plan for two charity dinners, another fundraiser, and more PR stunts. Giulia’s becoming a beloved character in the West Hill political landscape and our romance has definitely gained me points in the opinion polls.
I should be elated.
It’s what I wanted. What I needed.
Yet, every picture of us I see on the front pages of West Hill newspapers is a reminder that I’m not her husband in truth, that we are just pretending.
To cool off and clear my mind of the one that is inhabiting it without much of my consent, I take the scenic route.
The wind whips against my body and I speed on the bumpy road, enjoying the adrenaline rushing through my veins, making me feel alive in a way not many other things can.
Except your new wife, my brain whispers softly to me.
I’m deep on an isolated country road when my engine sputters. Fuck, I was sure my tank was full. The arrow on the tank symbol on the dashboard isn’t lighting up, but my ride keeps making terrifying noises as if it’d break any minute. Grey smoke appears around me, coming from behind, and I’m slowly but surely losing speed despite accelerating.
Suddenly, my motorcycle stops and I’m pushed out of my seat and over the handlebars, a small fire erupting from the gas tank. I jump to my feet and remove my jacket to flap it on top of the flames and extinguish the fire before it devours my beloved bike.
I remove my helmet and pull at my roots, eyes wide. Turning my head to the sides, I notice I’m in the middle of fucking corn fields with nothing around. I’ve been here so many times before I know I’m about twenty kilometres away from the house and more than double from the city. Even with leaving the house early, I’m never gonna make it to my meeting.
I take out my phone to call Nico.
When I dial his number, no ring comes through. I frown, disconnect the call and watch the screen of my phone, looking for a clue of what’s up.
The clouds above me turn grey and menacing, the air chilling. The hair on my arms raises with the sudden temperature drop. Shit, if I don’t get out of here soon, I’m not only going to be late for my meeting, but I’ll be drenched by the time I reach civilisation again.
I look down at my phone in my hand again. The top right corner where the service symbol should be is grey, like it’s not on or something. The entire country is well serviced in reception signals, so why on Earth would I not have service right now? I’m getting agitated, dialling Nico again, trying the toll guy. Nothing works. As a last resort, I try Giulia. Nothing but silence greets me on the other end. Not even a beep. Like the phone can’t even connect.
“Fuck,” I yell in the ether and throw my phone down on the ground where the screen explodes, and the back opens up. I pace back and forth in front of my ruined motorcycle, kicking it for good fucking measure.
I stop and take a deep breath, trying and failing to calm my racing heartbeat, fiery rage turning my blood to a boil.
I pick up the piece of my phone, and that’s when I see it.
Fucking minx.
I bark out a laugh, loud and unhinged, scaring a few birds in the process.
The place where the sim card should be is empty.
My little warrior finally added a bite to her bark. Maybe she wanted to punish me for every night I’ve spent in her room. Or maybe for the incident with Irina. Maybe she just wanted to push me away. Goddamn, she did well. I’m impressed by her determination and sneakiness. Sleep evades me every night, but she obviously waited patiently for me to sleep the three or four hours I get to take my phone and remove the card so I’d be without contact with the outside world.
In the city, it wouldn’t have been a problem and would have only pissed me off mildly. I might have even taken days until I noticed, trying to call people like a prick and not realising my mistake. I wouldn’t be surprised she fucked up my bike on purpose.
I want to be mad. I fucking love that bike. But I’m ecstatic. My little guerrieritta just gave me the perfect reason to punish her and I’ve been dreaming of tanning her ass red with my marks. My cock stirs up to life and a smile of pure evil lifts my mouth to the sides. Dark energy simmers under my veins. The harder she fights me, the bigger my monster.
I’m gonna gobble her up whole.
I’m high on the prospect of putting my hands on my wife’s soft body when the clouds part and rain showers down on me, putting a real damper on my mood. I have twenty kilometres to walk back and I have no other way.
She better pray my state of mind improves before I get home because I won’t be held responsible for what she brings out of me.
* * *
It’s the middle of the afternoon when I get home, and it has not fucking stopped raining for the past four hours I walked back to my cottage. I’m drenched, I’m hungry, and if Giulia comes out to view, I’ll fucking eat her alive.
She doesn’t disappoint.
Lounging on the sofa, her light laugh rings in the room and invades every cell of my body, burrowing under my skin. All I see is the red of her skin under my fingers. She doesn’t even say anything, she doesn’t have to.
When she sees my darkened eyes and sombre face, her laugh stops and she stands, the room falling so silent I can hear her heart beating. The blood pounds against her veins at her pulse point and all I want to do is sink my teeth into it and punish her fair skin to make her regret playing with me.
I already know that won’t happen. Her eyes shine with twisted anticipation, her fingers trembling by her side. She’s ready to pounce.
“Run, guerrieritta,” I whisper a second before she darts behind her in the direction of her bedroom with a squeal that awakens every sleeping part of my body and soul. If she plans to lock herself in, she’ll soon learn that no door or wall will keep me away from her.
I dash behind her, hot on her heels, racing to catch her. My heart races with every effort my muscles make to catch up on the short advance she has on me. My cock twitches at the prospect of catching her, the hunt making all the blood rush south.
When she reaches her door, she turns to close it on my face, but I push through with my shoulders, not registering the pain of the impact. She looks magnificent with eyes of a doe caught in the headlights. She faces me, taking a step back for every forward I make.
The tight wool black dress she wears hugs her figure and has ridden up her legs, barely covering her yellow lace underwear, and my eyes drop to her ample breasts, the dip of her thick thighs and plush stomach I want to sink my teeth into. Her red hair falls around her face and onto her shoulders, creating the perfect frame for her beautiful face, now tinted a pretty shade of pink.
Her eyes dart to the bathroom door and before she can take a step and try to push me out of the way, I grab her by the hair at the back of her head and yank her to me, her soft curves fitting the harsh planes of my chest perfectly. “Trying to become a widow so soon, guerrieritta?”
When she avoids my gaze, I pull at her hair and direct her eyes to me. Fire burns in her eyes, the green turning the shade of the myrtle growing on the property. Her sharp tongue cutting even in her precarious situation. “I obviously failed.”
With my hold on her hair, I direct her to the bed, a low moan escaping her throat and I’m not sure if it’s one of pain or pleasure, but it sure makes me leak at the tip. I roughly bend her over the mattress, a hand on her nape, keeping her in place and the view could bring me to my fucking knees.
“You’ve been bad, sweetheart, and I don’t tolerate disrespect,” I say, dragging the hem of her dress up with my free hand.
She wiggles her ass and I lick my lips, biting on it until I taste of copper to refrain from punishing her too soon.
“What are you doing?” she asks, uncertainty tainting her voice. I want to wipe the feeling away forever. I’d never take what wasn’t given.
“You played with me, guerrieritta. That cannot go unpunished. You want it to stop, you say ‘red’ and I’ll let you go.” My fingers glide on her thigh all the way up to her ass cheek, bare to me. “Fuck, sweetheart, you trying to kill me with that little thong? That’s a better way to go than a bike accident and I’ll go happy. So, what will it be?”
She doesn’t answer but keeps wiggling in place, trying to get friction. When the dress sits above her hips and I see the wet spot on her underwear, I know she won’t say a thing and I send a grateful prayer to whoever is in heaven for sending me such a dirty angel.
Keeping a hand on her nape, I smack the other on her ass, three in quick succession. Her small cries fill the room and create the most beautiful soundtrack I’ve ever heard. I’m not big on inflicting pain, all I want is her submission, but she takes it so fucking well, I keep going.
Another slap, another cry turning into a moan.
I massage the sting away, the heat under my palm travelling all the way to my groin. My blood sings with the sound of her pain and I feel like I could come just by spanking her ass raw.
The next few smacks bring the tears and it’s the most stunning she’s ever been, and she is absolutely gorgeous every fucking day.
“Cry for me, guerrieritta.”
I switch cheeks and continue my assault on her ass, leaving the print of my hand on the firm skin and her thighs, revelling in seeing my marks on her.
Then something wonderful happens. Her body goes slack and the cries only come out as breathy moans, the fight completely leaving her body.
“You’re taking your punishment so well, sweetheart,” I coo while caressing the hot skin of her legs and she whimpers, fully seated in subspace.
I drop to my knees behind her, licking a path up the back of her thighs to the red marks of my hands on her arse cheeks, eliciting a path of gooseflesh everywhere my tongue touches. The power it gives me is a rush like no other, my own head floating, my body tingling and ready to burst at the seam.
Nothing has ever compared, no headline about me, no winning opinion poll. Nothing.
Giulia trembles underneath my ministrations and mewls, out of her mind with desire. I tug her thong down along her legs, careful to not drag the lace on her heated flesh. I’m rewarded by the view of her glistening cunt and I can’t resist gliding my fingers along her wet folds. “Look at you, drenched from being spanked like the dirty little slut you are. You want more, don’t you?” I ask while sliding a single finger from entrance to clit and up again.
Her eyes are closed, but I want her to see me, to watch as I make her writhe and grind her pussy on my hand like the desperate girl she is. I smack her arse again, without respite, talking through gritted teeth. “Look at who’s making you come.”
Her green eyes are still droopy and full of spark, the trace of her tears on the corner making me bend over her back to lick them off.
“Please.”
I groan at her sweet begging. She doesn’t need to do it twice. I fall to my knees and lick her weeping pussy, her taste bursting on my tongue like my favourite flavour. I grip her hips in my hands, leaving another bruise and exploring the softness and smooth skin of her legs. Fuck, she’s addicting.
She starts to rock back and forth, fucking herself on my tongue. I lick and suck until she crests, then slap her ass again harshly until she cries and her pussy contracts and floods my mouth. I lick every fucking drop and insert a finger to feel how she’d milk my cock.
When she’ll allow me into her body, I’m gonna be fucked.
What was supposed to be a punishment turned out to be my downfall. There’s no way I’ll ever let her go now that I know how sweet she really tastes.
When she comes down from her orgasm, her knees give up on her and I hold her up until I can pick her up bridal style, then lay her on top of me on her bed.
She bursts out laughing. “I feel floaty.”
Yep, she’s well in subspace.
While she comes back to reality, I caress her back in a soothing pattern, then comb her hair with my fingers and just watch her. She might not realise it and she probably will deny it but she let herself go, confident that I could catch her. It’s not a small vote of confidence and it’s not something I’ll take for granted. She just gave me a little peek into what it would be like to care for her, to have her as mine, really mine.
With her body draped across mine and the syncing of our heartbeats, her breathing evens out and she passes out on my chest. My own collapses at the sight.
Every person that ever trusted me and loved me got hurt or died. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to pursue her. I’m conflicted but I know I can’t let her go.