Chapter 2 #4
He is taking down my pants and my skirt in one motion, leaving me naked in a very strategic location.
“You can’t…”
“I’m not spanking you through a dozen layers of fabric,” he says. “Waste of time, and going to deny you what you need.”
“Lemme… ow!”
My request to be released is denied as he spanks me hard, six times in a row, with one hand coming up to cover my mouth to muffle the sounds I make. Rude.
He spins me around and pulls me close to him, one hand on my bare ass, the other on my mouth.
“You’re going to be a good girl for me,” he purrs in my ear. “Or you’re going to have a very sore bottom, aren’t you.”
He spanks me again, and he’s right. It hurts, but it doesn’t hurt a lot. More than that, it’s very intimate, but not in the kissy, touchy, soft kind of way that makes me feel like I’m being suffocated.
“Ow,” I whimper.
Again, his hand lands across my ass. The sting and the heat are starting to build now, and they feel absolutely amazing. My clit is tingling, and I feel a warm column of circular heat building up in my lower belly.
I should make him stop, but I can’t bring myself to do it. He’s making me feel so good, and so bad at the same time. It’s not that unusual for people to tell me I am a pain in the ass. It’s not usual for them to give me a pain in the ass.
“You’ve been such a rude girl,” he says. “You’ve been mouthing off to me since we met, and you’ve refused to listen to direction.”
He spanks me harder, firmer.
I moan.
There’s a pause, and then he chuckles. “I knew it,” he says.
“You’ve been craving this, haven’t you,” he says.
“I saw it in your eyes outside when you kicked me. You looked at me like you wanted me to do something about it, but you also wanted to get your own way. I decided to stay back here and see how you were. And now look at you, with your cute round ass turning red for me, naughty little girl.”
There is warmth in his voice that makes the stinging slaps that punctuate his words feel even more intense to me. He’s not hurting me terribly. I know he could spank a lot harder if he wanted to. He’s toying with me. He’s showing me who I am, and what I want, and the fact that he sees it.
I usually avoid men, but I can’t avoid him. And I’m letting him treat me like he has any kind of right to do this, like he’s in charge of me. Oh, my god, I am submitting to him.
I start pulling away, acting like it’s because he’s making me sore. The opposite is true. I am absolutely glowing with sexual energy. I’m worried he will be able to tell somehow. I hope not. That would be awful. I would lose all my power in an instant.
He lets me go.
I’m surprised. I thought he’d snug me closer, hold me tighter, tell me that he’s not going to let me go. But his grip loosens on me and I am left to scramble to put myself back together, physically and emotionally.
“What the fuck was that?” I curse at him, though I do it kind of quietly as I pull my garments back into place.
“How do you feel?”
“What… what is wrong with you?” I ask him the question because I don’t want to answer his.
The truth is I am stinging and embarrassed and kind of warm and also… settled. And I don’t know why, and that is weirding me out to the absolute extreme.
“I have a tendency to try to save people from themselves,” he says, unexpectedly answering me with disarming honesty. “I like being a firefighter because it lets me be strong without having to hurt anyone, the way soldiers do.”
Okay, deep and revealing answer that indicates emotional depth and self-knowledge that frankly I didn’t think men were capable of. My father was different, of course. He was a man beyond men. I’ve never met a guy who would measure up to him.
“You should go and see your sister,” he says. “Before things get even more out of hand.”
HIs voice sounds thick and full of an emotion I can’t entirely place. There’s so much energy in this little closet. I am absolutely wrapped up in it.
I feel a tingling between my thighs, the sort of feeling that I know is going to create a problem for me if I remain in this enclosed space with this handsome, heroic man, to whom I owe the life of my sister and her baby.
A lot of men would at least try to leverage that for the use of my mouth at the very least.
He reaches around me and opens the door.
We step out of the closet, and as fate would have it, run straight into my middle sister. She’s carrying two cups of tea and is making her way to my sister’s room.
Her brows practically hit her hairline when she sees me and Thor come out of a room clearly marked Supplies, but thank god she doesn’t say anything.
“Mila!” I say, a little too brightly, linking up with her and pretending like the hunky firefighter who just whipped my ass doesn’t exist. “Oh! Wait. I need to go get something. I’ll meet you back in the room. The baby is so cute. And her name is so…”
I rush off, glad for the excuse to get out of the conversation, and the interlude with Thor the Firefighter. What the fuck am I doing?
I get the herring pie and go back to Freya’s room, where the nurses are done doing whatever they do when you have a baby. Arcane, terrible things, I’d wager, though Freya looks pretty happy right now. It is such a relief to see her, and to know she’s okay.
She’s thrilled with the pie too, which is nice. I like looking after my family, and it’s more important than ever to be able to do little good things.
“This is so good,” she says. “I’m so hungry.”
“I’ll get you more,” I tell her, jumping up. I don’t want to be in the room when…
“Selene was flirting with the firefighter,” Mila says.
“I was not,” I deny hotly. “He was trying to talk to me.”
“In a closet?”
I love Mila, but right now I wish she’d shut up. We don’t need to gossip about me and what I’m doing. Today is about Freya and the baby.
“About what?” Freya asks. She should be resting. She should be gazing at her baby girl, though to be fair, her baby is fast asleep and I guess there’s only so long you can stare at a baby before you want to hear some gossip.
“I don’t know. I told him I was going to punch him in the teeth.”
My sisters roll their eyes. “Really, Selene. Keep this up and you’ll never find a husband. It’s cute now, but it won’t be forever,” Mila says.
“Wrong,” I tell them. “It’s only going to get more and more adorable, until sometime around my sixties, I’m so fucking cute that people explode when they see me.”
Fortunately for me, baby Brenna starts crying at that moment, heralding a muted rush of activity to get her fed.
It is actually incredibly heartwarming and beautiful to see my sister with the child she grew in her body. I’m happy for her and even slightly envious for some mad reason I have no intention of beginning to examine. It’s been a weird day, and I’ve acted in a weird way.
I was going to leave the house within a few days after the birth, but now that the house has burned down, I guess I’ll stay until her husband gets in and I know she’s got somewhere safe to live.
Mila can go to her husband’s home. Freya and her husband have access to military housing. They’re both going to be fine. They don’t really need the old house, practically speaking anyway.
Our father built the house when he married my mother. Both of them are gone now. The house was the last remnant of our family. I can’t believe it, too, is gone.
“My wife! My son!” A booming male voice interjects loudly into our conversation as Freya’s husband gets half of his opening statement wrong.
Ragnar is a musclebound idiot who loves my sister more than anything in the universe. He comes bounding in wearing his shiny blue spacefaring uniform. His beard has been trimmed close to his chin to allow him to wear a space helmet if he needs to.
He engulfs Freya in a hug, and she smiles brightly and thoroughly for the first time since, well, everything happened.
Mila starts to fuss with the baby while Ragnar puts his forehead against Freya’s, and murmurs soft romantic things to her that would make me gag if I had to keep hearing them, so I slip out of the room and leave them to their love fest.
I go back out into the hall and sit on the plastic chair, and wait for Ragnar to stop acting like he’s useful.
Someone clears their throat a few feet away from me.
I look up vaguely, faintly acknowledge the guy, and zone out again, staring at the wall across from me and trying to work out what I feel.
It’s such a strange day. We have lost a lot, but the fact that Freya and the baby are alive makes it joyous.
I am happy and I am sad. I am home, and I am homeless.
Where will we go tonight? Mila’s house, probably.
Her husband has an apartment that overlooks the river.
It will be crowded with all of us, but a roof is a roof.
“Muffy?”
I come back to reality with the realization that Thor is next to me, and he still thinks my name is Muffy. That last fact makes me smile in spite of everything.
He holds out a beverage to me.
“What is it?”
“Hot chocolate,” he says. “You seemed like a milk drinker to me.”
That’s what we in the business call an insult, but I’ll take it, and the hot chocolate. I didn’t think about how hungry I was, or how thirsty. Both problems are very temporarily assuaged by the beverage.
“Why are you still here?”
“I’m an emergency responder,” he says. “You’re an emergency.”
I should throw the rest of the drink at him, but I don’t.
“Aren’t there other fires to put out?”
He leans in, his voice lowering. “Just the one between your legs, naughty girl.”
Fuck me. It’s such a cheesy line, but he’s right. My pussy pulses at his lewd comment, and I know I’m not going to be able to escape the arousal he’s stoking in me. My body and mind have been through a lot, and I want release.
He puts his hand on my thigh, a little too high. His little finger brushes briefly against my crotch and I feel a tingle of excitement racing through me. He wants to fuck me. I’m considering letting him.