Green peas and discipline
The moment I stepped out of the Fiat in his garage, Rafael grabbed me around the waist and tossed me over his shoulder. I didn’t even have time to close the car door. I yelled and kicked and pounded at his back, but he completely ignored me and stepped into the elevator.
Rafael was reticent at first, but it didn’t take long for us to get back to our previous levels of ridiculous flirting. I greenlit the fun, kinky idea he’d had before the encounter at my house.
“Put me down!” I demanded.
He paused.
I patted his shoulder. “Not really, I’m just playing along.”
He unlocked the front door and carried me through the house, directly into the dungeon.
“Thank you1 for wearing a skirt. It will make this easier.” Rafael hooked a foot around a leg of the red bench and dragged it into the center of the stone room.
He sat, spreading me across his lap, ass up, and rested a hand on the back of my thigh.
“Ready for your punishment?” He said it conversationally.
I twisted to glare at him. “What happened to consent?”
His eyebrows twitched. “I just asked you for it.”
“No, you have to kiss me first,” I pouted.
He gently tilted my chin up, bent almost double, and kissed me. I couldn’t embrace him from that position, so I settled for rubbing my breasts against his muscular thighs. It was a tender kiss, full of promise and restrained heat, and it ended far too soon for my liking.
“Do you understand why you are being punished?”
“Because I teased you? Or because I made you go home alone the other night?”
An evil light sparked in his eyes. “While you so cruelly abandoned me, I was unable to sleep. Utterly useless since you gave me the most powerful orgasm of my life. Every time I close my eyes, I see you shaking your breasts with the clamps.”
Immediately soaked through my panties. Good to know I wasn’t the only one completely hung up on that scene.
But I refused to back down. “You liar. You had that meeting in LA. Probably wrote a whole new score while I was gone.”
His smile was full of menace. “How dare you rewrite my brain chemistry and then skip off to some mundane job for a week? All I could do was daydream about watching your ass bounce and turn red under my hands.”
My face turned as red as his hair. As red as he wanted to make my ass. “Goddamn, sir. Well, carry on then.”
“Safeword?”
“Oh um. Stop worked before, but let’s use ‘green peas’. Because I hate them.”
“Weird choice, but ok.”
“Don’t kinkshame my safewo—ouch!”
The first blow landed with no warning, just a loud smack on my ass. “May I pull up your skirt?”
“You had bette—ow!”
He flipped up my skirt and smacked me with the flat of his palm. “Do you always wear thongs?”
“I hate VPL. ‘Visible Panty Line’.”
Rafael huffed and popped me again. That one traveled all the way up my back. I wasn’t going to last long at this rate. He was too strong. My ass cheeks heated rapidly under his palms. I eased into the sensation, letting it blur my perception.
He occasionally paused to grab my ass or rub it. Each time his palm collided with my flesh, I grew wetter and more aroused, like he was spanking the resistance out of me. Somehow, it also made me feel safer with him.
Just as I acclimated to the rhythm, he stopped. I braced myself, but instead of another blow, he caressed my glutes with a deft hand.
“You have such a lovely ass.” He slapped one cheek, then the other. “But you are distracting me from the spanking you deserve by tempting me to spread you out and eat you.”
“Dammit, you can’t keep getting away with this.” I rolled over and yanked my skirt down.
“What?” Rafael did not feign innocence well. Finally, something he was bad at.
“Saying the most outrageously sexual things like they’re nothing. You’re killing me here.”
He sobered. “I like to tease. If it bothers you, I will stop.”
“Two can play that game.” I pulled myself up and straddled his lap, winding my arms around his neck and pressing my breasts against his chest. “Now, what will you do?”
Belatedly, I recalled his story about throwing a woman off his lap, but Rafael held me tightly and kissed me until my spine rolled up instead.
I grabbed fistfuls of his hair and leaned into the kiss.
He cupped my ass with both hands. His heart thudded against mine.
Our body heat mingled. Between my legs, his cock hardened and pressed insistently against me.
“Do you think this will save you?” he rumbled in my ear.
And slapped my ass again. I rocked against him; I hadn’t truly dry-humped since high school, but I’d make an exception for such an exceptional cock.
He moaned encouragement into my mouth. Then I was stripping off my shirt and bra, and he his shirt and undershirt.
Evidence of the beating I’d given him lingered in stripes, filling me with an odd pride and sense of possession.
I clawed at his back. Rafael gripped my ass tighter, only releasing his hold to land the occasional spine-jarring smack. He bore my hips down, grinding me against his iron-hard erection.
Through the thin fabric of my underwear and his joggers, the edge of his cock head dragged against my awakened and ravenous cunt. I undulated myself into a sharp, gasping orgasm. Jerking and shuddering against him, he held me firmly in place.
“Bite me,” he growled with another hard blow on my ass. “Do it now.”
I seized the slope of his shoulder in my teeth and bit down. He hissed and thrust against me with bruising force. I pushed my underwear to the side for better sensation.
He groaned, thrusting faster. I shifted position and bit down in a new spot, sinking my teeth in as hard as I could.
Sweat slicked our torsos, easing the friction.
Each jerk of his hips ratcheted me back up the slope.
One big hand released my ass to cradle my head, and he pressed his face into my hair.
The orgasm worked its way up from deep inside his chest, bringing my second one with it. Fuck, I wanted him to yank the front of his joggers down and let his bare cock at least rest against my sopping pussy.
My whimpers came muffled through my bite hold.
I wanted him inside me so badly. I wanted to slide down and choke on him.
Rafael trembled and his tempo slowed. Each slide back and forth against my clit was measured, controlled, and deliberate.
Just enough to ensure I hit the fever pitch at exactly the same time he did.
He shuddered and cried out, hips bucking beneath me. I broke against him, shattering apart as his cock gave a mighty pulse and spent against my clit. Our voices wove together, and I released his shoulder to sing out my climax.
“Fuck.” Rafael’s voice was so low I barely heard him. He swallowed hard.
Realizing I was still straddling his cock, I tried to move, but he held me firmly.
“Are you ok?”
“Surprisingly, yes.”
My bite marks were livid purple on his shoulder. “Do I still have to be punished more? I think I’m tapped out.”
Rafael smiled. “I will save it for the next time you act up.”
We languished together in the bath. No obscuring potions this time; those had been muscle and bruise liniments.
I drowsed in Rafael’s arms, enjoying the skin-to-skin contact.
He still hadn’t allowed me to see him fully, openly nude, but this was a big step in the right direction.
His hand traveled in slow strokes over my hair.
I traced patterns on his chest. “Can I ask you a series of obnoxious questions about your sexuality?”
“Go on. Get it out of your system.” His voice sent rippling soundwaves through the water, but his tone was indulgent.
“How many sexual partners have you had?” I braced myself for the answer.
Come on now, Elaine. What the fuck? Why am I slut shaming? Not very sex positive feminist of me. He’s already said he’s disease free, has safe practices, and he’s choosing me, so why does it matter?
Rafael’s hand stilled. “Depends on what you classify as sex, but not as many as you are probably assuming. Most people piss me off too much before we ever get that far.” He exhaled slowly; obviously concerned about my reaction to what he was about to say.
“I would say thirtyish if you cast a very broad net, and most of those when I first came to the US. Not all kink is sexual. Sometimes I need a beating to make the darkness recede.”
I understood that all too well. Pain was dopamine. “You’re right. I thought you were going to say triple digits for some reason. Which would be fine, but I don’t know why I assumed that.”
“Stereotypes.” He poked me in the sore butt.
I yelped. “Sorry, sorry! Longest relationship? Last relationship?”
He groaned. “I hate saying this, but the answer to both is Molly. Two long, torturous years of trying to be someone I am not. Had a couple of false starts after that and decided to stay single until I un-fucked my head. I am glad I did,” he stroked my back, “because I am in a much better place now. And you?”
“I technically dated Marcus longer—four years—but David was the last one. I guess I should be used to cheaters by now, but he hurt me worse than the rest. He was very manipulative and made me question my perception of reality. Gaslighting, I guess.”
“No one should be used to betrayal. I certainly never got used to it.” Rafael’s arms tightened around me. “I will refrain from making outright threats against that fuckhead, since that seems to upset you. But I am thinking them.”
“I hope David spills his coffee in his lap every time you think of him.” I wormed higher up Rafael’s torso so my neck could relax. “More annoying questions, sorry. Have you been with more women or men? Or other genders?”
“More men, but my time in WeHo skews that number. Relationship-wise, it is fairly balanced, with fewer nonbinary people because they are fewer in general.”
I swirled my hand in the water, formulating my next question. “If you don’t like to be touched, do you, uh, touch yourself?”