Punishing Bliss & Grandpa Charlie
“Head down,” I say in my most controlled voice. I have her safely strapped to the cross in my converted play room. I haven’t been able to write so I thought if I release some sexual tension, then that might help me through this clogged phase. Ivy is sexually masochistic and submissive. This makes it easy to dominate her. We are working on orgasm denial. I take joy in this because Ivy is so responsive. It’s a beautiful and extraordinary process when she comes brutally and I get to unleash my inner sadistic self and punish her for it.
I fiercely stare down at the blindfold as if I could see her striking eyes and snatch her soul from them. Knowing that I have control over her—although it is illusionary control—in this moment makes my head heady. Whether the result is pleasure or pain, Ivy will enthusiastically and willingly take whatever I have to offer.
“Hunter…?”
“Shh.” I hit the undersides of her breasts with the crop that I’ve learned how to wield quite nicely. “No talking, Tinker. You’re gonna make me bring out the ball gag, love. I know you don’t want that.” I cruelly pinch her nipple and switch the vibrator on the highest level, placing it right on her sensitive clit. Her body instantly bucks and then tightens. She’s close. I slide the vibrator to her slick opening, licking the hollow of her throat.
Her breath hitches and she trembles violently. “My Salvation, please. I beg you.”
“No talking unless spoken to.” I give her another swat of the crop across her thighs, plunging the vibrator deeper but not entirely in her. She mewls and her body breaks out into a fine sweat.
A smug grin plays on my lips. I can’t help but feel superior. She doesn’t call me Master or Sir. I am her Salvation. In here I am a god and nothing less.
“Tell me what you want, Tinker?”
“To come. Please.”
I run my nose down the side of her cheek, nipping her chin. “Mm. Not yet.”
She groans and grunts in protest.
Bending, I lick her navel, thrusting the vibrator fully into her. She tenses, shudders, and comes viciously. “Oh no, Tinker. What have you done?” I tease as I undo the straps. I stroke her hair and massage her ass as she helplessly sags against me. “You know what this means.”
“Please,” she whispers barely audible.
“Uh-uh. Over the desk. Now.”
“But I can’t walk,” she pouts. It’s adorable. But cuteness won’t get her far with me.
I swiftly remove the blindfold and stand while she kneels gracefully to the floor. I point to the mahogany desk with the crop like a sergeant tolerating no bullshit. “Then crawl,” I demand firmly.
“Self-indulgent fucker,” Ivy says under her breath. I harshly smack her ass with my hand as she begins to crawl. Her entire body bucks forward. She halts and gasps. “Eight strikes of the cane for that.” Once she’s bending over the desk with her head down and her stunning ass up for my viewing pleasure, I select a cane that we will both enjoy. I palm her ass until her skin is heated and the blood flow is good there.
I whack the air with it a few times and she cringes.
This is going to be good.
I need this.
***
Isabel
Transfixed, I watch Hunter supply Ivy’s ass with a series of continual blows from a polished wooden cane. Blue let me in with a weird smirk on her face and told me where to find him. Now I know what that smirk was for. My anger peaks with every pleasurable moan slash horrifying scream from Ivy until it’s an infinite about and can no longer be suppressed. The glass vase filled with fresh lilac flowers falls from my hands and bursts on impact. Sharp shards of glass and water skid across the dark linoleum floor, moving like a wave crashing over a sandy shore, soaking Hunter’s boots.
When I bring my eyes from the mess, he stares at me. But not in shock or astonishment, he looks more annoyed and pissed. Max is wrong. I shouldn’t have come here.
Feeling like a pathetic idiot, I flee and run as fast as my feet can carry me. Hunter calls my name, but I am out of there. I successfully reach his front yard, pulling my car keys from my purse with a quivering hand when he freaking tackles me like I’m trying to score a touchdown. Every wisp of oxygen is knocked from my lungs when I hit the ground and get a mouthful of dewy grass.
“What the fuck?” I shout as his big body collapses on top of mine.
He laughs, winded and his chest heaving. “Damn, you can run.”
His impossibly hot erection stabs me in the ass, sending a strong ripple of pulsing lava through me.
Shit!
He still has that effect on me.
“Get the hell off me,” I pant, out of breath.
“You’re cutting me down, baby, with that sharp tongue. It hurts.” He doesn’t move. In fact, I think he’s enjoying this way too much.
“You are squishing me,” I whine.
He looks down and gives his hips a hard thrust, pushing himself further into me. I inhale sharply and attempt to hide my shudder. But Hunter doesn’t miss anything. “In that case, I should really get up.” Hunter’s tone is mocking and amused.
He doesn’t move.
He thrusts again.
I groan, clenching my fingers in the soft grass. “Hunter, remove your cock from between my ass.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he laughs in my ear before jumping up. He takes a moment to stare down at me as if he loves the idea of me helpless and sprawled out before him. The way his intense blue eyes study me with sharp interest has my heart in frenzy. Hunter feasts on this sight, not caring at all to hide it. And God help me, my heart flutters and the growing ache between my legs is more present than ever.
He grins like he has read my mind and then he offers his hand to me. I look up at his outreached palm and think of it as an aid for help but also a confirmed sign of my damnation. Without another thought, I take it and he pulls me to my feet.
“I was just on my way out,” I mumble after he hands me my keys.
“You should sit down for a bit. You seem flustered.”
I swallow hard and take an unsteady step back. “No. I need to go.”
Hunter eyes me for a moment, his expression hopeful. “Stay.”
That one word from his mouth has my heart tripping over itself. Damn. He has me in his clutches again. I can’t shake this feeling that the worst is yet to come between us. I nod, not trusting my voice. My body can’t stop quivering. My world is spinning with no plans to ever stop to let me gain some balance.
When I take a step towards his house, my steps falter. Hunter catches me in his grasp and I land face first on his bare chest. I involuntarily inhale his masculine scent. God, how I’ve missed him. I just want to wrap him in my arms and tell him he is home for me. But I don’t. I swallow past the huge lump in my throat and shove away from him.
Avoiding his eyes, I smooth the wrinkles from my dress so I’m surprised when Hunter swiftly bends and gathers my legs in a tight grip. He stands and throws me over his shoulder.
I feverishly pound his back. “Let me go, asshole. I can walk.”
He ruthlessly slaps the back of my thigh and I feel the sting all over. I grit my teeth to keep the moan safely inside myself. “You have me reconsidering teaching you some proper manners. I should spank you until you beg for forgiveness. I am a merciful god.”
“You are no god,” I laugh breathlessly as I bounce on his shoulder.
But damn your cockiness turns me on.
It’s like I want to hate him and fuck him all at once.
This only occurs when I deal with Hunter Knight.
I immediately hate myself because of this.
Once we’re inside, he sets me down in a wooden chair at the kitchen table. “You want a drink? Water?”
“I want to go home,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest.
He takes two water bottles from the fridge and hands me one. “Now why would you go and say something like that?”
Before I can answer, Ivy comes down the steps and joins us. She has on his large T-shirt and nothing else. “Hey you. I’m glad we didn’t scare you off.” She’s beaming.
“It’s not like I could say no,” I say, glaring at Hunter, who grins at me. He loves this.
Bastard.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” I ask tentatively.
Pink hits her cheeks and she shakes her head. “He went easy on me.”
“Let me see,” Hunter says, moving towards her. She glances at me and he frowns. “I won’t ask again, Ivy.” She tenses and braces her hands on the edge of the table and looks straight-ahead as Hunter lifts the hem of the shirt, exposing rosy red welts in horizontal rows on her backside and thighs. I don’t want to look but I can’t tear my eyes away from the agonizing scene of her wounded flesh. It pisses me off just as much as it excites me.
Focused on the task at head, Hunter traces a few of her welts. She shivers and I clutch the water bottle. In this moment I hate her. In this moment I want to be her. The urge to be self-destructive is absurdly appealing.
No cutting.
No cutting.
No cutting…
“You’re going to soak after this and then I’m going to rub you down,” He whispers, letting the shirt fall back down and kissing the top of her head.
“Okay,” she says just as softly.
I decide I hate them both right now. I doubt it will last, though. “I should get going.”
Both sets of eyes land on me. “Nonsense. You came over for something.” Why does Hunter sound so suggestive, maybe I’m imagining things because I want him to do naughty stuff to me as well.
The dark cloud of guilt grows thicker above my head.
Max…
No.
Not here.
Not now.
“Um, I wanted to apologize for being such a bitch to you at dinner.” I glance at Ivy and smile. “I’m not usually a bitch. I promise.”
“Good,” she says, smiling as well. “I like you.”
Does she mean like me like me?
Hunter strokes his blond almost invisible stubble on his chin as if considering what I’ve said. “I’ll forgive you on one condition.”
My throat tightens. “Yes?”
“We set a play date.” He gives me a smile that’s equally beautiful as it is evil.
Standing though I still feel shaky, I grab the water bottle and turn sharply on my heels. But before I exit, I whisper, “I’ll call you.”
***
Hunter
I sit at my laptop, typing away. After blackmailing Isabel everything instantly came right back to me. I’ve got my groove back and I’ll be damned if I’m letting go anytime soon. My words slow and my fingers pause on the keyboard as the realization hits me.
Is this actually blackmail?
I don’t think so. I mean, she has a choice. It’s not like I’m forcing her to do anything.
Taking my phone out, I stare down at her number, debating on whether or not to call her and play off the entire thing as a joke. Luckily my Grandpa Charlie picture and number pops up before I hit the “call” button.
“It took you this long to call me, old fart?”
“Hunter, my boy. How’ve you been? I’ve heard the old witch of a bitch went missing.”
I stifle my laughter. “Yeah, I haven’t seen much of Mom these days.”
“I never liked her, you know. She was a mean rattlesnake in the grass. I knew it with one look. I told your father. I told him. But my son never listens to me. He hates me.”
“He does not.” I don’t know why my dad has such a grudge against him. Grandpa Charlie is the shit.
“He does, boy. He does. But I’ll love him till the day I die.”
“If it makes you feel better, I love you, Charlie.”
“Aw. You know how to make an old man feel real special. I love you more. I saw your picture on the news. Reporters say you go with the pretty girl that paints the pretty portraits.”
“She’s a friend. You can’t believe the tabloids, Grandpa.”
He sighs into the phone. “I know. They call all the time. Asking me this and asking me that like a have a damn clue. My grandson does not call me like he should.”
“Guilt trip, Grandpa. Really?” I stare at the ceiling and rub my temples because it’s working.
“I’m lonely, boy. Maryanne is gone—God bless her soul—and I have no one. I miss my son and I miss my grandbabies. They all are grown now and don’t want anything to do with me. You all should be taking advantage of this old man. My days are numbered.”
He lives in a private assistant living residence in Charlotte. The best money can buy. But he is there alone. Grandma has been gone since I was four. “Pack a bag, old man. I’m flying you out.”
It’s eleven forty-five at night when he bursts through the door. I wanted to pick him up from the airport but Ivy insisted that she go so I could get my room ready for his visit. He’s still how I remembered: All gray-white and too fat and jolly.
“Come give your Grandpa a hug, boy.”
Smiling, I wrap my arms around all four hundred pounds plus of him and give him a tight squeeze. Blue strolls down the stairs and gives him a grin. We hold each other at arm’s length. “Who’s the other pretty girl?” he asks, playfully wiggling his snow-white brows.
“I am Blue.”
He lets me go and gestures for a hug. I’m mildly shocked that she complies. She lays her head on his puffed chest. “So soft. You smell of whisky and spice but look like Santa.”
Grandpa gives her a hardy laugh. “You look like Barbie and smell like expensive flowers and cigarettes.”
“I made spaghetti. I hope you have an appetite, old man,” I say, smiling down at the only father figure I’ve had respect for.
We all sit around my table, eating and laughing. Blue sticks to Charlie’s hip the entire night. Ivy told me she doesn’t have any family and was found in an alley when she was just a baby. Charlie is warm and welcoming and lovable and infectious. She finally seems like a decent human being for once. Hero doesn’t show at dinner and he isn’t answering his phone. I hope he’s safe. I take his room while Ivy and Blue sleep together in the other room. I doubt that Blue wants to sleep next to me and, frankly, I don’t trust her enough to keep both eyelids shut at the same time.