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46
Annie
Cole carried me, exhausted, chilled and trembling, from the helicopter to the main house in the compound. Resisting all offers from staff to help, he carried me up the stairs into his own room and stripped off my sodden, filthy clothes.
I waited, eyes almost closed, for the pain to start.
"Can you stand?" he asked.
I'd rather be tied. Standing on my own would be additional punishment. "Yes."
There was, to my surprise, laughter in his voice when he wiggled the fingers of the hand propped on my sternum, the one I was leaning hard against. "You're not," he pointed out.
"Oh." I couldn't think what else to say.
"Hmm," Cole said, and moved me to sit on the edge of the tub. "I meant to shower. This will have to do." He filled the tub with hot water and propped me against the wall and tub rim as it did so, giving himself time to strip out of his clothes.
Had I ever truly looked at him before? He was beautiful. His dark blond hair was sleep tousled. His eyes were sharp, the dark blue missing little, and narrowed as he considered me. He carried a lot of muscle, thicker than most tall men unless they worked out hard.
I knew that he did.
A thin line of blonder hair led down from his six pack abs and navel to his cock, stirring even now as my gaze landed on it.
He laughed. "Not now, I don't think. Come on, up and in, and lean forward. Make room."
I hissed as I lowered myself into the water, remembering my most recent caning and the beating in the hotel room that had turned out to be with a plastic coat hanger he'd had the foresight to bring from home.
Home.
This was not home.
But I was too tired to argue with myself. Instead I scrunched forward in the bath, making room for his long legs to fold down around me, his erection pressed against my spine, his balls up against my ass. His arms came around my torso, the water in the tub reaching nearly to my neck. I felt warm and somehow safe, even as I waited for whatever he had in mind. Clamps? Hairbrush? Paddle? Or would he simply use his hands again, fingers ramming too hard into me, pinching my nipples and tearing at them?
His hands smoothed water up over the parts not quite covered. He lathered shower gel that smelled of freesia between his palms and stroked it over my face, cupping water over and over to wash it. He gentled his hands over my neck, along my shoulders, down the slope of my chest and over and under my breasts. He washed my back, that most magical of sensations, and he kissed the nape under the fall of my hair, right where my spine starts all lumpy.
When we got out of the tub, he dried me with a soft bath sheet, then wrapped me in it and dried himself off, already starting to shiver. He scooped me into his arms and carried me into his bedroom and into his bed and I thought, Okay, now it starts.
But he slid in after me, moving gently so his weight was supported on his forearms as he slid his long, thick length into me and began to fuck me slowly, looking into my eyes as he did. His teeth nipped my bottom lip, my jaw, my shoulder. His hands found their way into my hair. His cock felt warm and familiar and somehow right.
When he came, when I came, he rolled off me and moved me to lie on my side, my back snuggled into him.
"I thought," I started and didn't finish.
"You thought that I was going to punish you."
"Yes."
There was a pause and he bit me somewhat harder on the shoulder. "Are you sorry I didn't?"
"No." I was in no condition to fight him, to keep myself sane and inside my own head. When he hurt me, it took every inch of my attention to keep myself whole.
Maybe I understood a little why he considered it part of recovery. If he truly did.
"No…?" he said slowly, more questioning than echoing me.
"No. Sir."
I felt his smile because he had pressed his face against my back. "There will be punishment. You'll understand the consequences of what you've done."
"But?" I asked, so close to sleep I probably wouldn't understand what he answered if he did answer.
"But it can wait for another day. Shhh, now. Sleep."
I almost said Yes, sir but I was gone before the sarcastic urge had faded into common sense.
I slept, and dreamed of the future.
