hurt me.”
“Why? I thought you wanted me to pleasure you.”
“Pain is pleasure in my life. Will you do it? Will you punish me?”
I was without words. I backed away from him, trying to catch a sense of humor as if this were some crazy test to see how far I was willing to go. His smug grimace didn’t change. He looked as if he’d done something terrible and wanted to be reprimanded for it. “I don’t know. I like kink, but you want me to what, beat you?”
“I want you hurt me. I don’t care how you do it.” He sat up while facing me. “Hurt me, Amantha. Isn’t that what you want? Don’t you want someone to pay for everything you’ve lost? Take it out on me. Show me how mad you still are.”
I shoved him away, not wanting to hear his bullshit any longer. “Stop. Please. You’re ruining this.”
He held open his arms. “Come on. Tell the truth. Your parents died for no reason, right? Doesn’t that make you angry? Let me be the person you vent to. Use me.”
“Their deaths make me angry, but I’m not doing this. It’s my burden to live with.”
“Slap me. Do it. I bet it feels good.”
I climbed off the bed. “I can’t. I won’t. You said we didn’t have to think about the past. Why would you do this to me?” I felt like I was going to cry. No longer did I feel like he was a saint. Easton was obviously fucked up and I didn’t know if I wanted to find out why. I suspected he was married, and if I agreed to punish him he wouldn’t feel so bad about what he was going through. A part of me felt angry that a man would cheat on his wife so easily. “Maybe you should leave,” I suggested.
He stiffened, but remained in the same position. Then finally his posture relaxed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
“No. It’s fine. I’m not really in the mood to continue anymore. It’s been fun, but enough is enough. I want you to go. We’re done here.” I was becoming angry with him, or maybe it was adulterous men in general. I knew I should have considered it sooner, but I went with what my body needed, instead of making a smart decision and abstaining.
“Amantha, you’ve got the wrong idea. I need you to know…”
I put my hand up. “Save it. I’m not here to judge you.” “Don’t make me leave.” He reached for my hands, taking both of them into his.
I pulled away quickly, slapping my hand across his face. “Get off me.” The sting to my palm reminded me I’d just done what he’d wanted. I stared into his desperate eyes realizing he’d been right. Without saying anything, I slapped him again. His hands found my waist and pulled me close, his lips crashing against mine.
When we pulled away I shoved him back down on the bed, climbing on top of him. I couldn’t explain what was happening to me, but I liked the way it made me feel to express myself this way. He took my wrist and slapped himself again in the same cheek. “Don’t hold back, Amantha. You won’t hurt me. I need this. Nothing should ever feel this good in my life. I need you to punish me for wanting you.”
Tears filled my eyes as I slapped him on the chest. “You don’t deserve me,” I wallowed.
“Harder,” he ordered.
I began to cry as both hands slammed against his hard chest one more time. When my head came down over it I felt his arms wrapping around me. “I hate this!” I yelled.
He held me closer and kissed me on the forehead. “I’m sorry.”
Something was wrong with me to appreciate what had just happened between us. Was I sick? Were we both?
I wanted to be rational. I should have been. What man wants to be punished for the benefit of someone else? A married, guilty one, obviously.
He had secrets. We all did. This was taking it to another level though. Obviously something tormented him to the brink of anguish, but I didn’t dare ask about it. What good would it do when I knew I’d never see him again? “You made me cry, asshole.”
He laughed and kissed me gently on the
“Why? I thought you wanted me to pleasure you.”
“Pain is pleasure in my life. Will you do it? Will you punish me?”
I was without words. I backed away from him, trying to catch a sense of humor as if this were some crazy test to see how far I was willing to go. His smug grimace didn’t change. He looked as if he’d done something terrible and wanted to be reprimanded for it. “I don’t know. I like kink, but you want me to what, beat you?”
“I want you hurt me. I don’t care how you do it.” He sat up while facing me. “Hurt me, Amantha. Isn’t that what you want? Don’t you want someone to pay for everything you’ve lost? Take it out on me. Show me how mad you still are.”
I shoved him away, not wanting to hear his bullshit any longer. “Stop. Please. You’re ruining this.”
He held open his arms. “Come on. Tell the truth. Your parents died for no reason, right? Doesn’t that make you angry? Let me be the person you vent to. Use me.”
“Their deaths make me angry, but I’m not doing this. It’s my burden to live with.”
“Slap me. Do it. I bet it feels good.”
I climbed off the bed. “I can’t. I won’t. You said we didn’t have to think about the past. Why would you do this to me?” I felt like I was going to cry. No longer did I feel like he was a saint. Easton was obviously fucked up and I didn’t know if I wanted to find out why. I suspected he was married, and if I agreed to punish him he wouldn’t feel so bad about what he was going through. A part of me felt angry that a man would cheat on his wife so easily. “Maybe you should leave,” I suggested.
He stiffened, but remained in the same position. Then finally his posture relaxed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
“No. It’s fine. I’m not really in the mood to continue anymore. It’s been fun, but enough is enough. I want you to go. We’re done here.” I was becoming angry with him, or maybe it was adulterous men in general. I knew I should have considered it sooner, but I went with what my body needed, instead of making a smart decision and abstaining.
“Amantha, you’ve got the wrong idea. I need you to know…”
I put my hand up. “Save it. I’m not here to judge you.” “Don’t make me leave.” He reached for my hands, taking both of them into his.
I pulled away quickly, slapping my hand across his face. “Get off me.” The sting to my palm reminded me I’d just done what he’d wanted. I stared into his desperate eyes realizing he’d been right. Without saying anything, I slapped him again. His hands found my waist and pulled me close, his lips crashing against mine.
When we pulled away I shoved him back down on the bed, climbing on top of him. I couldn’t explain what was happening to me, but I liked the way it made me feel to express myself this way. He took my wrist and slapped himself again in the same cheek. “Don’t hold back, Amantha. You won’t hurt me. I need this. Nothing should ever feel this good in my life. I need you to punish me for wanting you.”
Tears filled my eyes as I slapped him on the chest. “You don’t deserve me,” I wallowed.
“Harder,” he ordered.
I began to cry as both hands slammed against his hard chest one more time. When my head came down over it I felt his arms wrapping around me. “I hate this!” I yelled.
He held me closer and kissed me on the forehead. “I’m sorry.”
Something was wrong with me to appreciate what had just happened between us. Was I sick? Were we both?
I wanted to be rational. I should have been. What man wants to be punished for the benefit of someone else? A married, guilty one, obviously.
He had secrets. We all did. This was taking it to another level though. Obviously something tormented him to the brink of anguish, but I didn’t dare ask about it. What good would it do when I knew I’d never see him again? “You made me cry, asshole.”
He laughed and kissed me gently on the
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