Dawson and I spent the entire day together. He didn’t mention our kiss, nor did he kiss me all day. We walked along the beach, and he did reach for my hand, entwining our fingers. I thought about Drew touching me, and could only remember a few times that he had ever held my hand, and it was just for show for his dinner parties.
Dawson left around ten, tired from working the night shift. I actually didn’t want him to leave. I wanted more than the kiss that he was going to leave me with. I needed more. I was so used to the sex that Drew and I shared for six years. I was having a harder time not having it than I thought I would.
I again went to bed and pleased myself, thinking about Drew. I hated him. I never loved him, and here I was miles away, fantasizing about sex with him.
Our second sex encounter had come the very next morning, or I should say his sex encounter. I was being punished. He wasn’t about to let me have any pleasure.
He came into my room the next morning carrying his laptop. I was still sleeping when he sat on the side of the bed. I jumped to a sitting position.
“I thought that I made it clear that you weren’t allowed to touch yourself, Morgan,” he said, running the back of his hand down my cheek.
I flinched and pulled away from his touch. “I didn’t,” I lied. I thought that he wouldn’t be able to notice if he was watching. I had lain on my stomach and used the weight of my body to control the movement of my arm.
He turned the laptop so that we could both see it.
You couldn’t tell that I was doing anything, not until my hips thrust into my fingers. The look on my face as I came was undeniable, and the soft moan, that was abundantly clear, made it impossible to deny.
I looked up to his dark eyes, and he wore the same smirk. “You know that I am going to punish you for this, don’t you?”
I didn’t answer.
He moved my covers back and told me to get up.
I listened, afraid not to.
He raised my nightgown and rubbed my silky panties, covering my butt. He pulled them down just below my cheeks and rubbed soft and gentle.
“I am going to spank you, Morgan,” he rasped.
What the fuck?
My eyes darted quickly to his, and I hated the constant smirk that he wore.
“Bend over my lap,” he said, pushing himself back on the bed a little.
My heart began to pick up instantly. I was afraid not to listen just as much as I was afraid to listen.
He pulled my arm and I was over his lap, resting my top half on the bed. At first he just rubbed my back side and then I felt three very quick slaps that promptly stung. He rubbed my butt again, causing, satisfying relief before repeating his steps three more times. The fourth time while he rubbed away the pain, I tensed, waiting for the next swat. He didn’t hit me again, and instead ran his hand up the folds of my vagina.
Oh, sweet pleasure.
“Your * is wet. You like getting spanked, don’t you, Morgan?”
I didn’t know if it was a question that I was supposed to answer or if it was for his benefit only. I didn’t reply.
“You need to answer me when I ask you a question,” he demanded.
How the hell do I answer that?
“Yes,” I almost moaned as his fingers teased my throbbing clit. I wondered how long he was going to keep me bent over his lap, and then his hands spread my ass cheeks, exposing my anus. I flinched when he ran my slick juices from the front all the way back to my sphincter, massaging the muscle around the opening. I could tell that he was holding me open with one hand as his fingers went back for more lubrication. I came off of his lap when I felt his finger trying to penetrate the opening of my anus.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled angrily and took my second blow to the same bruised cheek. I didn’t even have time to regain my composure when I found myself across the bed on my stomach. He held my right arm on my back, bent with just enough pressure to cause pain and keep me from moving. When I tried, he pushed it higher, and I would quit trying to get away from him.
I heard him unzip his pants with his free hand. He ran his dick up and down my folds, and I was scared out of my mind. Surely he wasn’t about to do what I thought he was about to do. He was, and he did. I felt him push inside of my anus, and I squirmed, trying to get away again. He pushed my arm higher, and the pain shot all the way around my shoulder blade as I called out.
“Okay, okay,” I yelled, forgetting about the invasion going on below due to the fact that I thought he was going to break my arm.
“Are you done fighting?” he asked, shoving my arm one more time.
“Ouch, yes,” I screamed, and was instantly relieved when he let it go.
“Are you going to touch yourself again?” he asked, rubbing himself all over my liquids.
“No,” I promised, and I meant it.
“Roll over and bring your legs up,” he demanded.
I rolled to my back and watched him roll a condom down his shaft, and rub himself down with lubricant from a small bottle.
“Hold your legs up,” he said again. “I want you to see what is going on so that you know I mean business when I tell you something.”