tagBDSMDisobedience

Disobedience

byarbenitre©

There she was, just as she'd told him. At the bar of the hotel. He presumed she had initially been waiting on a table for the two of them, though now it seemed that she was either encouraging or fending off testosterone probes. He couldn't tell which from this distance. Probably very little difference which at some point.

He stood and watched, waving off the hostess in her practiced approach. Giving her little notice. She appeared miffed as though she wasn't used to being ignored or disregarded after dressing in her best skirt and top. She turned to cleaning menus with a vengeance as though that had been her actual purpose all along. Through the sides of her lashes she watched him observe the woman at the bar.

She'd taken the day off today. Not the hostess, the woman he was regarding. Taken the time to have her hair done, her nails polished, her outfit perfected. To his practiced eye, she was trying too hard. The dress was pushing her substantial curves up and out too hard and too far. She needed a greater subtlety in her attire and he was interested why she hadn't chosen with him in mind. At least, his likes. He presumed, as had been the case for several years now, that she chose and went through her daily life with him always in mind. Another probe joined the party and suddenly there were four guys surrounding her with a bartender hovering in the background in case things got out of hand and he would have opportunity to join in.

After making eye contact with her, he moved to a chair in the corner where he sat to watch the show. She was spilling out of parts of the dress and he decided that it was bought and worn with just such as those clowns in mind. Each of them wondering if they would get a chance to drag her up onto the bar and put it to her right here in front of whoever might look over or walk in. The slit on the sides showed that her undergarment was either not present or a thong that rode well up on her hip. She favored the thongs, but it seemed that it may well be appropriate here for the former. She could be bare underneath and forming a puddle on the vinyl upholstery of the bar stool.

The thought gave him some discomfort and he crossed his legs as a waitress came over, throwing a huffy look at the group in the corner as though they might notice and be chided for their play. The waitress exhibited her best features for him. She felt the need to throw herself at the only man in the room not taken up in the game. When his gaze moved only deferentially from the scene at the bar, the affronted drink monger thrust her chest out as if to make claim to the better of the two if he were only to compare then left to get his wine with an air of annoyance.

He didn't care about a waitress. If she were to go to all this trouble to make a show for him, the least he could do is watch. He settled back as she laughed a high tinkle that he rarely heard from her. She'd never been one of those women to lower her intelligence in order to get men to like her or want her company. Thus, the fake laugh was hardly ever used and he thought that he might have only heard it a couple times before. She had so few opportunities to be false with him. As if to punctuate this thought, she looked across the room at him.

One of the testachaperone junkies moved his musculature over to blockade him and draw her eye back. She slid slightly to the left to give him back his view of her. His wine came and he paid with a callous wave of his hand. There was a tip left in there, but the waitress wanted paid with his attention. Instead, he sipped his wine as if to make certain it was the brand he ordered. It was interesting, he reflected, that the more she would move out into a social grouping, the more he would revert and introvert, back away and become impassioned observer. Oh, she knew. Designed this little scenario with just that in mind. He saw it clearly now. It wasn't her pleasure to see him with others, it was her pleasure for him to take her. To see her defiance, to calmly meet and punish her for it.

He considered as he sipped, an appropriate punishment. It will have to fit the crime and have obviously taken some effort on his part. He believed that if something merited punishment, then in order for the lesson to be learned and carried forth, it certainly was worth the time and effort to make sure the measures taken were appropriate. His wine was fast disappearing as he thought of her being taken and trained as she tried to maintain herself within the confines of the bits of cloth she so boldly used to tease him now.

And what of her blatant display of her charms? Placing herself in such a precarious position that at just a misfiring of hormone, she could be in danger of being dragged off to a slightly darker area or even as and where she is if that hormone should stab upward into the already overtaxed brains crowded around her. He wondered idly how she was managing to keep them all from pawing her now, it was a dry timbered forest she walked in, needing only a match to set the fields ablaze. She played a dangerous game here and the effect was certainly not lost on him.

The dismal light of the room and the grimy reflection of the restaurant lighting gave a back room feel to the entire scene and he couldn't help but feel that she might well have taken things too far this time. Something she has often threatened to do. Such a free spirit, independent and strong willed. Thinking of herself so easily and willingly and others with such difficulty. She never sees how dangerous the world can be or how frightening it is for so many. She sees mainly her own pleasures.

Until he came to her life. Suddenly there was an immovable force. A silent brutality that would meet her head on and cow her. Something she wanted so desperately, but could only gain with subversion of her own nature and need. Someone who wanted not her pleasure, but his own, through her. His predilection for her suffering, her uncertainty and hesitance, made her both crave more and fear getting it.

Another sip and the waitress would be back displaying her wares for him. He swirled the contents of the glass instead and wondered if she was done. If she had made her point and was even now faltering in her moves, in her heart. Was she feeling the first trepidation for the punishment to come? Was she wondering what he would do for such transgression? For such obvious personal debasement? For placing herself in a position where she might be harmed? Just the situation that provokes him to impart those lessons to her she finds so irresistible?

She gave another tinkly laugh. He wondered how so many of life's denizens moved through the waters of superficiality so easily. The weight of the atmosphere often dragged him down into seas of morosity and he would find movement sluggish and forced. He knew her able to move within the social boundaries of platitude, but also saw the part of her separate and estranged from all others. In a moment of anguished clarity, he saw himself as the one who forced her out of the herd. Culled her and broke her. He let lie the fact that she was already more than those surrounding her when he brought his own passion to bear upon her impressionable form. He would rue the day she lay broken before him and had chosen her for just such an impossibility.

He drained his glass, waved off the mendicant hoping to flash her chest at him and have him give her sanctity. Justification. He wasn't in the mood to help her self esteem. Another laugh, lower this time. There would be a phasing out of the studs. She would move toward one, then another and create some confusion, but also a consolidation of those two against the others. Then she would move to the door with so little warning that only the quickest will be left working out how to get out with her. She always picks hotels because of the valet parking and that one remaining, quick on his feet but slow of mind, will be standing open mouthed at the curb as she drives off. He'll watch from across the street to be sure she makes it alone.

"He looked like he could keep you in vices."

Her grip threatened her cell phone. Her breath was sharp with the inhale. The air felt cold as it rushed in. When she replied, her voice wavered and sounded like a little girl's she'd heard somewhere. "There's only one vice left. You know that." She bit her lip. She'd have given and done anything to have sounded as sultry as she had in the bar. Smoky and sophisticated.

"Have you been trying to run from that again?"

He was taunting her now. Would he tell her what to expect? Would she have any idea what was to come? Some kind of hint to stop her knees from buckling and her legs from giving way. "Not running, no." Her voice squeaked this time. A high pitched forced sound so unlike her that she teared up. She hated that he made her feel like this. Made her body react in ways she never thought possible.

"I'm following you now. You'll need to turn off the pike to the park." It always amazed her how cool and calm his voice would sound at times like these, when her own insides were shaking apart.

Her stomach lurched. It was yet early. There would be couples out for an evening stroll. Heavy walkers swinging their arms in steadfast rhythm, earnest as the look on their faces and the bend of their arms punching the still air, making it move. Pushing it out of the way. There would be babies in prams and umbrella strollers. Cadillac infant urban assault vehicles with tiny precious cargo inside afraid to move or to jiggle the tank like structure of their encapsulated world. It would be busy everywhere there. She envisioned this was her punishment befitting her exhibitionism at the bar and her hands shook on the steering wheel so violently that the car tremored and tried to buck its lane assignment.

"Right there." His voice insistent and reasonable. Her heart squirming and irrational. "just pull in and stop."

The car obeyed before she did. She had frozen in panic. Her heart was pounding and her senses were floating away. A haze moved across her vision as she parked and secured the car. She gathered her purse and thoughts as best she could and tried to prepare for what he would have her do.

He was at the window before she had fumbled her purse into her hands. She clawed at the door handle, loathe to keep him waiting and to make it worse for herself. He caught the door before it opened, held it firm, reached his hand in and took her by the hair. His kiss surprised her more than she could ever have believed and she felt a flood take her. Her thong soaked and fluids leaking out around it. All her shakiness, her fluster, her frustration melted into a great ball and flowed out where she sat.

His lips toyed with hers, pulling one, then the other in and suckling it. When her tongue reached out, he took the tip in a grip and nipped the end of it. She gasped and he pressed his mouth over hers harder. The hand in her hair pulled and tugged and kept her from meeting his pressure. Kept his mouth dancing away and pushing in at his will and insistence. She was moaning feverishly and her panties felt as though they'd never dry again.

He kept at her. All reason was gone and any hope for redemption. She would take back her provocation if he would only keep doing what he's doing now. She would be his pet, his perfect woman if he would only keep the kiss. His hand curling in her hair hinted at the finite nature of the embrace and she steeled herself for the end. His lips slid over hers, keeping them tingling and slippery. They were grasping back as best as she could without having her head free to move as she will. She only realized his lips were gone when she had been grasping air for several times. She very self consciously wished she hadn't looked like a fish but feared that was exactly how she looked. He was quite seriously watching her in her want.

She'd brought this upon herself. He reminded himself that as much angst and fear she might show and feel, she wanted it. The full weight of his force and pleasure. She wanted him to be creative and demanding. To take all of her courage and strength. To test her to her fullest. He yanked her head back and she let out a throaty nervous giggle. He settled his lips where her neck stretched up into her ear. Just at the node there he set to nibbling while gripping her hair and stretching her to open the spot to his mouth.

She was moaning and frozen still. Her trembling held in abeyance. In deference to the delicacy before him, her body held stiff. Her heart, though, ran rampant. Thrashed and beat itself against the cage where she kept it for him to come and take.

"Leave your purse. Come with me." He was curt but his speech meant that his lips had stopped their work and she nearly cried for their return.

Her fingers were shaky and she fumbled to set the purse on the floor of the car. When she stepped out, though, she was surprised to find her feet firm and measured. Was this how it felt to walk the gallows? She wondered. Steps set and defined as though that were all that was left to the doomed. She decided it was a good analogy. She'd done this to herself, dared his response. Now that she had it and feared it, she had no one to turn to or to blame. Sole responsibility brought something freeing and her step became almost buoyant. She would go to her punishment willingly and defiantly. She would brave his worst and even force him to be sincere. If she couldn't escape and couldn't plead or beg, she would hold her head high and challenge his every effort.

Ahh, he enjoyed her. Watching her go through so many stages of acceptance and finally to so boldly stride forth, made his heart ache for her. That she had no idea what was in store for her made her all the more vulnerable for the bravery she showed now. She would be haughty and defiant. Resistant and unmanageable. She would try to shut herself down and off so she wouldn't feel so acutely. He smiled. Just the way he enjoyed her. Difficult and hardened. With a molten core waiting to explode. A volcano of emotion smoldering. He was about to fan the flames and throw fuel on top.

She walked out to the trailhead and waited. She'd been here before. She faltered slightly as a jogger passed quickly, staring at her dress, it felt ridiculously small to her now. The slits up the side that exhibited bare thigh and the way it looked as though the bottom of her ass cheeks would show if she bent over too far seemed so far out of place that her insecurities were showing more than the amount of cleavage pushed up with her crossed arms. She dropped them to her sides nervously and failed to find anything to do with them that wasn't ungainly or awkward.

She waited there as he strolled over. A mocking grin on his face. Something welled up inside her and she wanted nothing more than to just get it over with. If she stamped her foot, it wouldn't be as out of place as her pumps. She wondered how far he would make her walk in the heels and if she could take them off and just go barefoot. She assumed that part of the punishment is to be physically distraught before being publicly exhibited and humiliated. As she considered this, she realized he'd never humiliated her before and had actually gone out of his way not to. There was a respect and safety she felt with him that she'd never felt before with anyone, let alone a self proclaimed Dom.

He caught up to her and captured her elbow in his fingers as she turned to stay ahead of him. He pulled her around and pressed her against the signboard, forcing his body into hers. She felt his muscles, his urgency and, at her soft underbelly, a hardness that had nothing to do with working out or pocket electronics. She'd begun to shake. He'd recognized it happening in her before she did. It was always like that. He knew. He always knew.

"We're not going in there. I don't want to punish you, you know that." His voice was low and modulated. His most dangerous, she knew, and her mouth went dry all on its own. His hands were moving over her body and a woman walking by looked back at them as though scandalized. She would smirk at the walker if her mouth would move to her bidding. He took it between his lips again and she would have melted were she not sandwiched between the signpost and his body. A rock and a hard place. She almost giggled at the picture.

"We're just stopping here to get a couple things straight." His voice had gone even quieter. Menacing if not for the gentle tone. "It's not a punishment, you know, not really. Oh, I know I've called it that before, but it's a lesson in fact. It's easier to say it as punishment when we talk of punishment and reward being equal and equally craved. It's actually a lesson I will help you with, though I know you crave the punishment you would get for your trespass and subsequent insubordination. I know you also need the reward I will give you for being good and taking your punishment well."

Her head was shaking by itself and her mouth was moving a silent "No", with occasional anguished utterings. "No... No... No." Each one aloud punctuated with a whimper and a twitch of his crotch (where she stared in fascination). "No."

The reality was beginning to press in on her now. "I had to decide what you were doing with your little charade, you know. What you wanted from me. Was it attention? Emotion?" His voice was silky and growing steadily quieter.

"No." Her eyes couldn't let go of the tent in the front of his pants. How it jerked and strained with every moan from her. "Noooo."

"I had thought I would bring you here and tie you to a tree just where you could be seen if someone really looked, but not so you were just out in the open. I could lift your dress and whip you there. Spank you with my belt." His voice grew husky telling her about his ideas. "Then, of course, I realized that it wouldn't really be a lesson to you, really, now would it?"

She could only mutter "no..." Her mouth involuntarily added "please." It made her angry at herself. He hadn't even done anything to her yet and she was giving in. She tried to buck herself up a little. "Hmmpph."

Before she could get herself all the way steeled, however, he shoved her back into the wood and smothered her body with his. Hands at the small of her back, teasing her bottom, mouth at her cheek while her hair swished back and forth with her head seeking purchase to take his lips again. He released her before she was ready.

"No, a lesson has to be given in the same spirit as the subject. You put yourself in danger. It wasn't merely a public display. The bar was quietly lit and sparsely peopled. Those men could have taken you. Carried you to the back and had you or even forced you onto the bar, a table or the floor without caring who saw, knowing no one would step in for you."

Her heart was falling. Now she feared what he had in mind. His face was no longer smug or taunting. It was stern and foreboding. She didn't have the vaguest notion what he was thinking when his features set like this. She wanted to plead with him, to show him how she had managed the ape boys well. Her mouth was too dry to make sound though her lips moved in a "no" motion. Her head punctuated the sound that couldn't come out with fervent back and forth movements.

"You were trying to give me a gift and I appreciate it very much. You wanted to show how you want me. How others want you, but you have eyes for only me. A mouth that's all mine. Curves that know my hands best and skin that aches for me only. I appreciate it and enjoy it." His voice dropped. "But you put yourself in danger. And me. What would I do? Five on one? Should I get help and leave you to take what happens in the meantime, or jump in and scare them off but take a beating doing so? You placed both of us in a very precarious predicament and I think you need to be taught about that." He pressed his body into her, reached up and snapped a collar around her neck. He took her hand gently in his own as it reached up and it was some little time before she realized he was handing her something. "Put these on and follow me."

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byarbenitre© 3 comments/ 25989 views/ 5 favorites

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