First post. (Part 1)

[Ch****]

On a dreary night where the rain slicks the windows. I'll see you sitting in the corner sipping your drink. You'll see me walk into the room as if I own the air. You catch my glance but don't hold it, your pride as you used to men falling at your feet. The illusion of your power, I will let you live in it for a minute. I'll sit by you, not close, not far, just enough so that you feel my presence. Without looking at you, you hear my voice pierce the silence "you look like the type who's used to winning arguments."

You pause for a moment while thinking of the best response, and smart saying "only because I do."

"Ever been wrong?" I asked, turning to face you fully, calmly, and collected.
You chuckle, slow and mocking "I can't remember a time that I was goddamn wrong."

"Let's change that" I respond to you slyly.

I hold your stare as you look away, caught off guard by my demeanor. Just for a second, you feel it, a flicker of shift. Covering it up with another sip.

"You're cute, but you wouldn't know what to do with a woman like me"

I respond to you calmly saying "all I can do is all for you a warning."

"Is that supposed to impress me?" Is what you try to get out before feeling my fingertips slap across your face. Not hard. Not brutal. But clean and direct. Sharp enough to sting. Sharp enough to silence all the thoughts in your head. You freeze, your mouth slightly open. Not in ***, not in ***, but in disbelief. I lean close to you and speak in a lower voice then I've spoken before,"this is where it starts"

You stare at me cheeks flushed, half rage, half something else you don't want to admit.

"You have two choices " I whispered. "Walk out and pretend you're still in control. Or follow me to the bedroom, and find out what it's like when you're not."

Your pride tells you to leave but your body doesn't move. You stand up, with the side of your face still tingling with the echo of my palm. I can see the storm behind your eyes, not outrage not tears. Curiosity mixed with a pulse that you can't quite slow down. I don't offer you my hand and I don't ask again. I just turned around and start walking. You follow, not because you were told to. But because you want to see how far this will go. I walk slowly allowing you to catch up as we walk shoulder to shoulder down the long hallway, not touching, but drawn. My hand gently brushes against yours. This soft grays is a complete contrast to what happened just a few moments ago. You look at me confused by the duality as we finally get to the door. I open it for you and step aside, allowing you to walk in first. The room is dark and Moody. The one lamp near the window glows low like a stage light waiting for the show to begin. You walk in slowly, every step quieter than the last. You stop near the bed, with your back to me.

Close the door loudly, letting the sound settle into your chest. "Are you sure," I ask. I can see you nod but you still haven't turned around.

I walk up behind you close enough for you to feel the heat from my chest. And softly whisper in your ear "I'm not here to play with your pride, I'm here to break it."then, my hand grips your chin and turns you to face me. Another slap. This one harder. Sharper. You gasp but you don't pull away. " I said it starts here " I remind you. My fingers brush your chic where it's already pink. And then I do something you do not expect. I kiss it, softly and slowly. The complete opposite of the ***. This absolutely confuses you, wrecks your center. In the flurry of emotions running through your body you hear me say to you

"I'll be kind when I want to, and cruel when you need it."

Your knees buckle just slightly and I catch you by the waist. Steadying you like a dance partner who never misses a beat. I slowly spin you back around bending you over so your hands are against the bed. Sternly, I tell you "hands flat, legs apart." Heat bloomed in your cheeks, down your neck, all the way between your thighs. You obeyed heart racing, breath shallow.

"You will be a well-behaved pet" I murmured. It wasn't a question, or command. It was a statement of truth. It was everything you wanted to be. You did your best to let out a whimper of "Yes, sir" between your breaths.

Our first contact since the hallway, you feel my fingers slide under your skirt. Finding the soaked through lace, and yanking them down roughly letting them dangle at your angles.

Then, nothing.

Just the sound of your breathing. The unbearable ache in your core and the hard heartbeat pulse in between your legs, aching, trembling.