Chapter 71
Another week passes. We cook, walk, and talk about everything under the sun. Angel loves classic movies. I love watching the emotions that cross her face while she watches the old black and white cinematic genius. I also wipe away the tears when she cries over a sad scene. We are getting to know each other as friends-far past any D/s relationship we're playing at.
I love her laugh, her sense of humor, and her wit. Seeing the world through her eyes is different for me. I've never spent this much exclusive time with a woman. Her idiosyncrasies are eye opening and delightful. I finally figured out that Angel is too complex to place in a one-size-fits-all hole. She's so incredibly unique that I find myself thinking about growing old with her and starting a family.
This is what's going through my head while I perform maintenance on the Mustang and Angel wears short shorts while being my gofer. The thoughts leave me so hot and fucking bothered that I use one of the condoms in my pocket fucking her on the hood of the car and then try out a few of the other classic cars that Monroe covets. Serves the bastard right.
The lines between Dom and submissive ease when we're out of the house and these are the special times where I learn more about who she really is and see more fully inside her beautiful, intelligent mind.
Saturday night I make reservations for dinner to get us out of the house for a while. "No underwear," I tell Angel. "But you may cover your hair."
"I'll braid it but leave it uncovered." Her impish smile promises trouble and my dick goes hard.
At the restaurant, it's not her hair or her lack of underwear that drive me wild; it's her damn bare toes. I grab one teasing foot under the table and tickle her arch. "Behave!"
"Yes, Sir." She wiggles her toes, tempting me still.
"You will be standing to eat tomorrow if you continue," I warn and let go of her foot. She slides it along my crotch while twirling her hair around one finger playing the complete innocent. "I promise the burn will last for a week," I warn again and add a devious smile this time.
She looks straight into my eyes, hers twinkling. "Yes, Sir."
God, I love her.
***
We pull into the driveway and a handful of her hair is in my hands before I can think twice about it. Pulling her close, I run my nose from her throat up to her ear. "In the playroom, naked, over the spanking bench. If you disobey, you won't come until tomorrow."
Excitement lights up her face and, "Yes, Sir," comes out on a sigh.
I walk her inside, turning her in the direction of the dungeon. "I'll be there in a moment." I head to my room and remove my shirt. I slip on my black cotton pants, leaving my feet bare. Each movement is filled with electric anticipation.
I walk into the dungeon to see Angel bent over with her legs apart and waiting. I almost hoped she disobeyed. I turn on music with a heavy bass beat and grab a blindfold. I secure it over her eyes. "Can you see?" I ask.
"No, Sir."
"I've changed my mind," I say suddenly. "I think I want your pain tonight."
The first strike of my palm lands on her ass. She squeals and goes onto her toes. I take her arms and tie them behind her with the rope that Monroe keeps stocked in the playroom. Every so often my palm lands against her tender ass. I'm well aware that some of her shrill sounds are for my benefit. I've only started and those sounds will end soon. We're only at the warm up.
After her arms are secure, I lift her off the bench, lead her to a padded table, and drape her over it. I raise the table, giving soft directions in her ear. She remains still-head down, ass up.
I nab a pillow and arrange it under her head. Then I help her lift her legs and tuck them close under her chest. The pink lips of her pussy make me itch to taste her wet heat. First things first, though, I console myself.
Grabbing a crop from the wall, I admire her slightly pink ass, though that's not where I place the first strike. The square piece of black leather lands directly on her pussy for a sharp sting. Her high-pitched squeal is music to my ears and much more believable. I snap my wrist with more force and she lifts half off the table. The music's tempo is hard and pounding, blending with her beautiful cries.
The music comes to an abrupt stop and the sudden silence makes me jerk around. I locked the door, but it's apparent the man standing across the room has a key.
Monroe.
"I do not mind if you continue, I just wanted you to know I was here."
I'm stunned. My first feeling is relief that Monroe is okay. My second is anger-pure, white, hot as fuck anger. Angel's cries of pain turn to sobs and she tries to scramble into a sitting position on the table. "Master," she wails. The sound is gut-wrenching and my vision turns red. I press her back to the table a little more roughly than I should, but I'm doing my best to hold it together.
"Do. Not. Move." I bite out the words.
She struggles, but I lean into her and speak straight into her ear, "Stay. Where. You. Are." She stops fighting and now it's her low sobs that fill the room.
Monroe doesn't move.
I methodically untie the ropes holding Angel and lift her from the table. She reaches for the blindfold, but I stop her by pulling her hard against my body. I remove the blindfold with one hand while breathing in the incredible scent of her hair.
I turn so we're facing Monroe and I slowly allow Angel's feet to hit the floor. With a last squeeze that almost tears my heart out, I let her go.
Her first three steps are slow. Then, in desperation, she launches herself the last few feet toward Monroe and falls to her knees in front of him. She doesn't put her hands behind her back and instead grabs Monroe's pant leg. He places his hand on top of her bowed head and she wraps her arms tightly around his legs and cries harder. I watch his face and see the emotion Monroe so seldom shows.
I turn away because violence seethes within me. I haven't lost control in years but right now I'm extremely close. I meticulously wind the two lengths of rope and place them back in their proper cabinet. One task and then another-I will get through this. Deep breaths, combat breathing, relax, slow the fuck down. It all rolls through my brain as I attempt to quash the need to kill my best friend. It takes a few minutes before I trust myself. Picking up a blanket from the counter, I carry it to Monroe. I don't look at Angel while she clings to her master's legs. My eyes stay narrowed on Monroe. Without glancing down, I drape the blanket over Angel's shoulders while giving the man she loves my death glare.
Monroe's fingers smooth over Angel's head. "My pet, you need to go up to your room."
Angel's arms tighten.
Monroe gathers a thick strand of her hair and pulls steadily back. "You will go to your room now," he says in a voice I've never heard him use. He lifts her trembling body and she turns and looks at me. Her eyes are puffy from crying and a hint of fear shines out and hits me in the gut.
"It's okay. You need to do what your master says," I say because Monroe is right, she needs to be anywhere but here when I lose it.
Monroe slowly pulls her head around so she can no longer see me. He knows exactly where the danger lies and keeps his gaze locked to mine. "Have you ruined my slave?" he asks in a tone that belies the seriousness of our present situation.
"No, Master," Angel gasps. Monroe tightens his hold on her hair and she cries out. Something sparks in his eyes, but he still doesn't look at her.
"I was not speaking to you, pet. Do what I say and go to your room now." He releases her hair and swats her ass when she doesn't immediately move.
Angel's expression is wild mixed with worry. She takes a last look at us before walking out, the ends of the blanket clutched in her hands, a foot-long swath trailing behind her on the floor. At any other time, her sad, tear-stained face would have my dominant sexual vibe moving into high gear. I'm too angry right now and her unhappy allure only causes a slight twitch in my dick.
Angel doesn't close the door.
I start counting to contain my rage until I'm sure Angel can't hear what happens next. Ten, then twenty-my fists come up and every bit of anger, jealousy, and hurt go into the punch.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
