Page 158 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

Oh God, no. I can't... I can't hold on. Paint, plaster. That was it. The crack in the kitchen ceiling and the hall. I hope we haven’t got damp. Damp. I’m so damp, I’m sitting in a pool of my own— Stop that. The hall. Yes, we need to paint the hall. What colour shall we have? Will I even get to pick with the mood he is in?

I close my eyes, screwing them up tightly, concentrating so hard on not going over the edge, not coming. But that is worse. In the blackness behind my eyelids, there are no distractions from your touch, from what you are doing to me. Too easy to focus only on those torturing fingers.

I open my eyes and look away from you, not at you. That would be too much, to look into your eyes and see how much you are enjoying this, to know that even if I beg it will make no difference until you are ready.

You stop, thankfully, mercifully.

Oh, I wish you would carry on, wish you would give me release, but I am also grateful for the pause, the break. The faint chance that I might be able to collect myself and hold on.

I get only a short respite and then you begin again. This time you start off by teasing my nipples, squeezing my bottom, spanking my pussy hard, just your hand this time, no crop, but the effect is the same.

I know! Think about work. That should help if anything should. Boring spreadsheets in the office, works of art hanging on the walls. I try to go around the gallery and name all the artists. It makes no difference. No matter how hard I try, all I can think about is you painting red hot, angry strokes on my skin.

And then my worst nightmare happens. I feel your breath on my inner thighs, your tongue flicking over the now crimson skin of my pussy. You lick ever so gently all around the edge of my pussy lips and then your tongue plunges inside me and I cry out. “Oh Sir. Please, Sir.”

Your finger presses against my clit again, and you look up long enough to say, once more. “Not yet. Don’t you dare.”

You don’t think you’re going to be thinking about the laundry and DIY in the middle of sex, do you? Painting the hall, plastering the kitchen? It would never occur to you that you’d think about any such things. Perhaps your parents might do that, but not you, oh no.

And yet, here I am, mentally counting and pairing socks while the evil, sadistic love of my life licks me so delicately inside and out; his tongue lapping at my clit, sucking it and—No! Don’t think about that. Socks! Green ones, blue ones, black ones, the pink ones with the little white flowers (mine, not Will’s). Think about so… sock… No. Oh no. Ohhhhh. Nooo.

“Soooooooooooooocks,” I yell, as if my life depends on it.

Oh no. Please no.

Silence.

I open one eye, cautiously, and then the other, to find myself nose to nose with my tormentor. “I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I’m so sorry, Sir.”

“Did you just come? Did you just dare to come without my permission?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry. I really am.”

Your lips twitch ever so slightly. “And what was that you just yelled?"

I blush and squirm on the, by now, sopping wet chair. "Erm, nothing, Sir. Nothing at all."

"Did you just yell 'sucks'?"

"No, Sir. I… Not sucks. Socks."

"Socks. I see. Well, okay then. Why…? No, actually, I’m not even going to ask." You can’t keep your face straight any longer and let out a roar of laughter.

I can’t help it. I know I’m in trouble, but I start to laugh too.

You put your arms around me and hold me close, shoulders still shaking with laughter.

Finally, the laughter subsides, and you growl close to my ear, “You do know you’re going to pay, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t, but you’re still going to pay.”

You untie me quickly and help me to my feet, putting your arm around me and leading me over to the sofa. You put down a towel. “Here, sit on this. We don’t want a damp patch on the sofa too.”

I sit, looking down at the floor; conscious that, while you might have been laughing a few short minutes ago, you can’t be pleased with me.

You lift up my chin and make me look into your eyes. “Now, I want you to listen to me. You came without permission. Didn’t you?

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