tagBDSMA Slap in the Face

A Slap in the Face


She was really angry.

She knew it wasn't rational to be as angry as she was. She couldn't even blame it on drinking because though she was in a bar, she had been too angry to drink for the last 45 minutes and she'd only been there for an hour before that.

It started off fine. She met a bunch of people out for drinks. And he was there.

He had invited her and made it seem like he really wanted her to come. So since she usually did the things he wanted her to do, plus she wanted to spend time with him, she went.

However, she had gotten there later than the rest of the crew, so most were sort of drunk and then they started leaving so it turned out it was just her, him and then the other girl showed up.

She wasn't sure if he knew her before that night or what. She shared bits of conversation until she realized the girl might be cute but she was dumb as a rock.

She had no claim on him whatsoever. They were just friends. But that didn't stop the fire-breathing dragon of jealousy ripping through her insides as he began to focus his entire attention on this other girl.

It had started when there were four of them left and she was chatting with another friend who was at the bar.

The friend noticed his intense focus on the other girl as well.

"Wow, what's going on over there?" the friend asked. 

She shrugged her shoulders. 

"Who knows with him?" she drifted off.

"Yeah, looks like they're really hitting it off," the other friend said, and left shortly after.

So that left her to sit alone while he worked his charms on this other girl. Why was she staying to torture herself like this?

She couldn't answer. She just sat. She was hoping that at some point the other girl would leave? That she might even get some alone time with him? That maybe he'd apologize for being rude? 

None of those things were happening though. And the longer she stayed, the angrier she got, and the more humiliated she was. 

And the less he appeared to notice her existence, let alone the rest of it. 

They weren't far from her at the bar. She watched something on the television over the bar, hearing bits and pieces of the conversation. She knew the mode he was in. And the girl simply thought he was hilarious. And the girl was really annoying.

It wasn't so much that he was talking to a girl, but that he often seemed to look at this relationship, entirely just a friendship aside from whatever feelings she refused to admit to herself, as no maintenance.

That it would not occur to him that he was being rude by ignoring her for the last almost hour. That she wouldn't mind. Of course not. Good old pal wouldn't care at all. 

It was a symptom of a larger resentment that had been building, because if he had taken the time to every focus his attention on her, as undividingly as he was currently doing with annoying girl, he might see a few things to be true. 

But he never did. Never would. And this happy hour, if you could call it that, was the straw that broke the camel's back for her.

She decided to get up from the bar and leave with whatever dignity remained.

She walked by them and tried to minimize her wave goodbye because she was so irrationally angry, and able to realize that was the case, that she did not trust herself to interact properly. 

But then he said about the worst thing he could have said. And so pleasantly, too. It was sort of ironic.

"Oh, hey! I didn't even know you were still here?" he said.

She looked at him then. Looked at the girl who was too shallow to even realize what was going on. Why what he said felt like such a slap in the face. But the girl was cute, so that was apparently all that mattered to him. 

Wow, was she pissed off. 

"Oh yeah?" she said.

He was drinking something from a glass. She took it, and took a sip out of it.

Then she threw the contents in his face.

"Well, now you will remember when I really left," she said, and handed him the glass back and didn't bother to wait to see what his reaction was.

For the first time, she could honestly say she really didn't fucking care. And maybe that was what made him follow her outside, still wiping the drink out of his eyes with a napkin.

"Hey!" he said.

"I'm leaving," she said, not turning around.

"What the fuck was that for?" he asked, following her out.

She got to her car and was looking for her keys in her purse.

"What was what for? According to you, I'm not even still here. I left a while ago, so not sure what you are talking about?" she said, still not turning around and trying to find her keys.

He grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around.

"Why did you do that?" he said.

"I'm probably about to be fired anyway, so please do not bait me into getting myself into more trouble," she said.

"You're not leaving until you explain," he said, taking her newly found keys out of her hand.

They were both angry.

"Honestly, I'm not sure why you even care. I don't exist to you," she said.

"How can you say that?" he said.

"You just told me you didn't even know I was still at the bar. How do you expect me to feel about that?" she said.

"It wasn't personal, I just don't always pay attention. I was in the middle of a conversation," he said.

"Oh...," she said, angry. "I know you were. Give me my fucking keys," she said.

"What is wrong with that?" he said.

"Nothing. Just let me go!" she said.

"No!" he said.

"What do you want me to say? My feelings are hurt? I'm jealous? That I can't possibly escape my constant awareness of your existence and you manage to forget mine the minute anything remotely distracting comes through the door? Fuck it," she said.

She was so angry.

"I don't understand where this is coming from?" he said.

"Of course you don't!" she practically yelled in his face.

"You wouldn't fucking know how I felt if I wrote it across my forehead in blood. You don't see me," she said, holding onto the front of his shirt now.

"You see me like you see a wall. Or a car. But you don't see inside me. You don't feel me. It takes me throwing a drink in your face to get a reaction out of you," she said.

"Give me my keys. Or fire me. Or whatever. Just do something," she said.

"No," he said.

He held them away from her.

"Seriously, I am not reasonable right now. Just let me leave," she said.

"I'm not letting you leave this way," he said.

"Your girlfriend is waiting. She'd probably be getting impatient if she knew how long you'd been out here but that would require her knowing how to tell time," she said.

He laughed.

"Nice. Ill let you leave under one condition," he said.

She leaned against the car.

"And that would be? That I make my first available turn into a wall?" she said.

"Don't even joke like that," he said. 

"I'll let you leave if you slap me in the face first," he said.

She blinked.

"What?" she asked.

"You need to get this out of your system. Just hit me. Hit me as hard as you can and you'll feel better. Then you can go," he said.

"I can't," she said.

"Oh, but you can throw a drink in my face in front of a crowd of people? Is it you need an audience?" he said.

Suddenly she was feeling more accommodating.

"Would it make it easier if I told you I'm still not totally sure what you're upset about?" he said.

"Of course you're fucking not," she said.

"I'm sorry, I'm a little dense sometimes when it comes to girls," he said.

She slapped him across the face then. Hard.

"This is the only way I'm apparently allowed to touch you. If you consider that how fucked up that is, maybe it will help clarify things a little," she said.

He rubbed the side of his face with his hand. She felt strangely exhilarated.

Turned on, even. It was the first physical impulse she felt toward him that she was she able to indulge. And with permission.


He could see she looked better already. Still a little crazy. But not as bad crazy. Almost becoming good crazy. 

"Do it again," he said.

"You don't want me to," she said.

"You know you want to. And I apparently deserve it. So do it," he said. His voice was different now.

She could see in his eyes that he did want her to. Her dial slipped another notch in a different direction.

She slapped him again. Hard again.

He felt it sting. He dropped her keys on the ground now. She did not move for them.

"You've got quite a slap there," he said.

"You won't be surprised to hear that I've been told that before," she said.

He laughed again.

"I'll give you one more free shot. Then you'll have to fight me for any more," he said.

She wasn't angry anymore. Hitting him really had taken the edge off.

"I don't need to," she said. 

"I'm giving you one more free chance to slap me in the face and you're turning it down? You know how many girls would kill for this opportunity?" he said.

She laughed then.

"Oh well, if you don't want to, I can just go back inside to Ms. Digital Watch," he said.

She slapped him again, hard, one last time, and he caught her hands this time.

"That was it...last one," he said.

He pushed her against the car, holding her hands in his.

"I need my keys now," she whispered, into his face, so close to hers.

"You'll get them in a second," he said.

"I like when you hit me. It hurts, but it feels good," he said.

Her eyes fluttered involuntarily.

"And you just summed up how I feel about you," she said.

"Oh yeah?" he said, running his fingers into her hair. He closed his hand into a fist, and pulled. Hard.

"It hurts like that?" he said.

She felt the pressure, the warmth of his body against her. She felt the pain of her hair being pulled.

"Oh yeah. Exactly like that," she whispered.

Her mouth was an inch from his and he found it, catching her lower lip in his teeth, and biting. 

She sought his mouth with her tongue, and feeling it, he let go to meet hers with his and the kiss was hard. Hard as her slap.

So hard it almost hurt, their lips working each others' mouths, their tongues deep and twisted. He pushed her back harder against the car until his body was holding her in the air against it and her legs were wrapped around his waist.

Their kiss was consuming and penetrating, his hands still tight in her hair, pulling it, and her fingers scratching his back through his shirt, wanting to get through it, wanting his naked back under hands.

He didn't have time to think about how everything made sense now, but if there were time, he would have. Instead all he thought about was getting more of her tongue, pulling her hair harder, and the pain of her fingernails through his shirt that he wanted through his skin.

Then he remembered they were in the bar parking lot. 

He pulled away. 

"Don't," she whispered. 

"Let's get out of here," he said.

He threw her the keys and they both got in the car, and she drove. He held her hand tightly in his and she went to his house without asking where to go. 

They did not talk on the ride. It was only a few minutes. There was nothing to say.

They got to his house and luckily it was empty – and her heart pounded in the silence until they got to his room and he had barely closed the door behind them when she pulled his shirt off found his mouth with hers again.

Now they could both feel her nails in his back. 

It was so good. He pulled her shirt open without bothering to unbutton it and his hands were all over her.

Hers all over him. Moving her to the bed he wasted no time pulling off her jeans and her panties as her hands worked his shorts and within five minutes of getting into his room, they both gasped into each others' mouths as he thrust his hard dick deep inside her soaked pussy. 

He paused one minute, still kissing her, feeling how wet she was, how hot she was, but then he couldn't wait anymore.

He wanted to split her in half with his dick, to fuck her hard. Harder. And he did, fast, hard, the only way it could have been for them.

She sighed and gasped and was loud and it was such a turn on to watch her face, listen to her whispering...."More, more, yes, like that, harder."

He stopped for a second.

"No, don't stop," she said.

He held her face in his hand for as second. 

"Look at me," he said.

She did.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked.

"No..no you're not," she said.

"No? Too bad," he said.

"I'll have to try a little fucking harder then," he said.

Her eyes rolled back in her head again with his words as he pounded her, fucking her so hard, so fast, harder still, her fists beating the bed, pulling him down to suck on his tongue, and scratch welts in his back, ripping at the sheets, mumbling nonsense to him, and he didn't stop. 

She couldn't catch her breath. She was coming fast and relentlessly to the point of rendering her almost silent with the overwhelming physical reaction.

She couldn't get enough. Enough of his tongue, of his dick, of his skin, of his lips and his body and his eyes, and his face. Of him.

He pulled out of her and turned her over and she was barely aware of it until he slid inside her from behind her, deeper now, slower, building it, and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

He was holding her hips but pulled one hand back and took her completely by surprise by bringing it down in a hard slap on her ass.

She gasped, but it was so good. 

"Did that hurt?" he said, pulling her back by her hair to whisper in her ear.

"Oh yeah. More," she said.

Once more, he pulled back and slapped her ass as hard as he could, fucking her faster now, he was almost there. He liked to see the red mark he left on her skin.

"I think I owe you one more. Don't I?" he whispered to her.

"Yeah, yeah. More," she said.

And as he felt himself exploding inside her, he brought his hand down one last time, and she came harder for it, and he dropped to the bed, spent and sore in some places.

He pulled her to him, brushing the hair out of her eyes. He looked seriously into her eyes for a second.

He kissed her gently this time, holding his lips to hers, and it was so warm and delicious, that mouth she wanted for so long. 

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," he said. 

She couldn't tell if he meant in the last half hour or the last few years. But either way, she could see he meant it. And it was enough.

"I know you are," she said, and she kissed him again, leaning on his chest.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"I'm wondering if that girl you were talking to at the bar has figured out you left yet or she's been talking to a bar stool thinking it is you for the last hour," she said.

He laughed.

He rolled her over onto her back and held her hands down over her head on the bed.

"Watch it," he said.

"You know," she said, smiling.

"That's quite a slap you've got there, too," she said.

"Would it surprise you to hear that I've been told that before?" he said, smiling.

She laughed.

The End.

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