Playfully His Ch. 01

His arms are lightly around my shoulders, kinda fatherly. His face is in my hair behind my ear. He breathes through my hair. I feel him slowly inhaling, taking in my smell.

"I have a confession," I whisper. New blossoming of moisture.

He is quiet. The he says, "Well?" as if this revelation has been inevitable all along.

I take my cheek away from his shoulder to face him. But I cannot look him in the eye. I try to cover my face with my hands. He gently places my hands at my sides.

"I snooped," I say, looking down. My insides quiver. Just a few moments ago I thought I would die if he ever knew. Now, why do I feel such a strong, exotic thrill at exposing to this man my naughty behavior?

He places a rough finger under my chin and I look up into his eyes through my tears.

"When you were working on my sink and I went downstairs to use your bathroom. I am so ashamed." I want to drop my face, but he holds my chin up so I must look straight into his eyes. "I snooped and looked at your stuff."

His expression is serious, but not angry. I feel the heat from his body. My own face burns with embarrassment. I feel terribly hot. Sweat tickles my skin. I am so embarrassed. And a new surge of moisture from my center.

"Did you find anything interesting?" he asks matter-of-factly.

I look into his eyes through my tears. "No—I mean, yes—I mean—I mean—"

"Tell me," he says.

I tell him that I looked into his cabinet, and into his laundry. My insides quiver. My center is slick with arousal. "A belt. A brown belt, thick and coarse, with shiny areas on it from use. I touched it. I smelled it. It smelled so nice—like you do. And I smelled your shirt."

His brow relaxes. He looks into me, and I am overwhelmed with feeling like a silly kid. After a long wait, he says, "And?" Again, he invokes the inevitable.

A new arousal of animal within me, more powerful than ever, thrashing, gnawing to get out, invoking a primitive rush at my center, demanding that I face my need. "Will you—will you—?" My voice is a forced whisper.

"Will I what?" he asks gently.

I place my hands on his shoulders. He touches my face. I find my voice. "Will you—punish me with it? The belt? For snooping, I mean."

In the same gentle voice he says, "Do you really know what you are asking for?"

"Yes—no—I don't know. I just know I must—I must ask for it."

He turns away from me a few steps and is quiet for a while. Then, in a firm, matter-of-fact tone, "Go down to my apartment and fetch it."

I turn to go, my head down.

Then he says, "Audrey."

I look back through my tears. They are not tears of sadness.

"If between now and when you come back up here, you change your mind, I will understand."

"I won't change my mind. I know when to have resolve, or not."

*

The second part in this series, entitled Never Again, is in the works and will be submitted soon.