6. The Slap #3
Nadja looked down contemptuously at his pathetic, naked lower body. Sweat still stood on her forehead, but her breathing had already returned to normal.
“Exactly that. It’s over.”
Karl’s mouth fell open. Nadja took one threatening step toward him. Not to help him up, but to force him to crane his neck submissively if he wanted to look at her.
Karl fell silent at once.
He rubbed his burning cheek in disbelief, as though he needed to make sure this merciless humiliation was actually real.
Nadja looked straight into his dull eyes. Every word came from her mouth ice-cold and crystal clear.
“From now on, you are not allowed to touch me again. That slap was your final warning. Next time, I’m calling the police.”
Karl swallowed dryly. Naked fear began to show in his face, but greedy desire still flickered defiantly in his eyes.
“Yesterday…” he croaked desperately. “Yesterday morning you were still moaning that I could fuck you every damn day.”
Nadja calmly smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her sleeve. Her beautiful mouth twisted into a dismissive, mocking smile.
“Karl, how old are you, exactly? Do you really believe every word a woman moans while she’s in bed?”
Karl’s throat tightened painfully. He swallowed hard and couldn’t manage another word.
For one tiny moment, countless vicious possibilities shot through his mind. She had cheated on her husband. He knew her dirty secret. He had leverage over her.
But Nadja’s face, that superior smile on her lips, only became more mocking.
“You can tell Markus everything if you want,” she said with cutting coldness. “But don’t ever think you can blackmail me with this filthy little secret.”
Karl froze inside. That single sentence erased the last pathetic illusion in his mind.
The dominant woman standing over him wasn’t the least bit afraid of being exposed. Not the way he had stupidly believed.
She had deliberately allowed him to touch her.
She had let him think he held power over her.
She had allowed her own body to twitch and grow wet beneath his hands—only to make it perfectly clear at the decisive moment, with a slap across his face, that she had absolute control.
That she saw through him. That she knew exactly what kind of disgusting bastard he was.
A cold shiver of helplessness ran down Karl’s spine.
Desperately, he searched her eyes for some hint of a game, some tiny sign that this was only another twisted, perverse turn in their role-playing. There was nothing. Only ice-cold contempt.
Nadja turned elegantly toward the apartment door, unlocked it, and pulled it wide open. The hallway lay beyond.
“That’s your place, Karl,” Nadja said imperiously. “Outside my door.”
However much his male pride resisted, Karl struggled shakily to his feet.
With fumbling hands, he hurriedly stuffed his cock, now slowly softening into pathetic limpness, back into his dirty gray trousers.
Before stepping humbly across the threshold, Karl turned his head and looked at her one last time. Unfulfilled hunger still burned in his dull gaze. But beneath it lay the deep, humiliating defeat of a man who had just been put in his place.
Nadja didn’t yield an inch under his stare. Karl lowered his head and walked out, beaten. His skinny, hunched back disappeared into the dark hallway.
Click.
Nadja closed the door. She was completely alone again in the empty apartment.
The silk blouse still sat crookedly on her body. Karl’s disgusting sour smell still clung to her sensitive skin, and the red marks from his rough hands stood out clearly on her stomach.
But what was driving her most insane at that moment was the brutally interrupted, boiling arousal still throbbing unresolved deep in her lower body. It didn’t simply disappear because she had mentally taken back control.
She drew a deep, trembling breath and walked straight into the kitchen. Nadja opened the refrigerator and took out a green cucumber. The cold skin felt soothing against her palm.
She pulled one of the kitchen chairs into the middle of the room and sat down heavily. Her legs slowly opened wide.
Her panties were completely soaked with her own pent-up wetness.
With one hand, she hurriedly pushed the fine fabric aside and pressed the ice-cold vegetable directly against her throbbing, wet pussy.
With the other, she pulled her bra fully askew and rubbed hard and insistently over the nipple that still burned from Karl’s mouth.
Slowly, moaning, she pushed the cold cucumber deep into her pussy. A choked, uninhibited moan tore from her throat.
The icy hardness met her burning heat, creating an overwhelming sensation that was at once sharply painful and infinitely relieving.
Nadja moved the cucumber greedily inside herself—agonizingly slowly at first, then faster and deeper. Her other hand slipped deep into her open blouse and wildly kneaded her own full breast.
About ten minutes later, Nadja sat on the chair breathing heavily.
She slowly pulled the dripping, gleaming cucumber from her pussy and stared at it in silence for a while, her expression empty.
Then she stood up and tossed it carelessly straight into the trash.