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6
Annie
Breakfast was small and fast. Coffee, protein shake, banana, strawberries. Bacon, probably as a reward because I'd gotten through the day before.
I was sore to the point of aching, and still in a weird mindset. My thoughts would start after something and then veer off like jackrabbits off a perfectly straight trail, bounding off into the sage. Lots of other thoughts would fly up then, the way quail shot up out of the sage when they felt threatened.
I didn't necessarily feel threatened. My thoughts were just – jumpy. I was a little too, or maybe jumpy mixed with languid. Little flashes of what Cole had done to me kept coming back. I wondered what he'd done for his own release the night before, or if what he had done to me had been release enough. I wanted to ask, but like being stoned, my mind wandered off before I could find or form the words. Cole was distracted anyway and in my present state I doubted I could be coherent long enough to capture and keep his attention. Once I had it I'd probably mentally wander off anyway.
Morning sun slanted through the window. That meant it was late. Late October, the sun rose later than Cole and I usually did.
While we were at the table he studied his tablets, reading from one, making notes on the other. More than once my fingers sort of spasmed with the need to reach over and take the tablets from him. The day before had done nothing to curb the need in me to find out what was going on and start making plans for what I'd be doing undercover.
It had curbed my temper, though. I accepted that he wasn't ready to tell me.
On the other hand, I was having trouble with being bored out of my freaking mind. I had nothing to read, nothing to research, nothing to watch or listen to, and I was bored. Part of the boredom was being dressed. Not that I'd ever tell Cole. But there was something dull about just sitting there in jeans and a t-shirt when the cook came and went and when his butler or head of household or whoever the man was came in with mail and the like.
"Are you going to continue fidgeting all the way through breakfast?" Cole's voice took me by surprise. He hadn't looked away from his tablets.
"No, Sir. I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was fidgeting."
That time he did look up. He was smiling. Sort of. "You're practically leaping out of your seat and back down like some kind of fish."
The word made me go still. But he wasn't threatening me with a meal of fish. He was saying I reminded him of one. I didn't know what to say to that so I didn't.
If I was having this meal with a vanilla companion, I'd be asking what we were going to do after breakfast and for the rest of the day and chattering. As it was, I tried not to fidget conspicuously but Cole had not provided anything out of the ordinary to sit on. The chairs at his table were hard wood, easier to clean after some of the dinner parties he gave where guests got naked and spilled substances both from outside themselves and from within. My ass and thighs had initially appreciated the coolness of the wood. After that they'd begun to scream from the contact. My boobs, too, were feeling the excesses of the previous day; they didn't like even the weight of my t-shirt.
If I was fidgeting, it was his fault.
So not going to tell him that.
When breakfast ended Cole stacked his tablets, finished his coffee, finished his water, wiped his mouth with a linen napkin, and stood. His eyes met mine and I blinked twice, feeling like a cornered rabbit, and looked down. His hand moved into my field of vison. He helped me to my feet.
"Come with me."
Fear shot through me. We had finished yesterday, my punishment was over. Cole had even given me after care, and an earthshattering orgasm. I hadn't done anything since then – at all, let alone wrong. I hadn't done anything but sleep, and that had been both decreed and watched over by Cole himself. Cold dread formed in my stomach that he'd lead me into the playroom or worse, somewhere there were other people, maybe people he'd invited over on purpose, and there'd be paddles and –
I let him lead me. Unless I meant to leave, doing anything else would just make things worse. Sometimes after arguments with Mark we'd make up, clear the air between us, and go on with life. Only for the next day or two we'd find ourselves snapping or going back to cover the topics just one more time, a little more thoroughly. Maybe we'd each had our say but one or both of us didn't feel we'd had our say about everything. It was like that, only with Cole, when he said over, it was over. Reopening that can of worms would have consequences I wasn't prepared to accept.
If he decided it wasn't over, arguing would only prolong everything.
Maybe I was learning.
I was surprised when he lead me into the bathroom off my suite. I almost started to undress, then made myself stop and wait, hands by my sides, head down, gaze down. I'd undress when he told me to.
He did, but not the way I expected. Cole himself removed my clothes, his hands gentle as he moved my long, dark, increasingly wild curls off my shoulders and pulled my t-shirt over my head. He paused to run his fingertips over the bruising on my boobs but didn't stop to hurt or to soothe. He instead pulled off my jeans, leaving them in a pile, and then my panties, which made my face flame with embarrassment.
Which made no sense. Only yesterday he'd done so many things to me and I had been naked the whole time and he had been clothed. He'd made me come, using his hands.
What did I have to hide?
But my cheeks flamed as I stood, letting him undress me. When I was naked, he took off his button down, his jeans and his briefs, neatly folding them and placing them on a shelving unit.
"Come on, Annie," he said, and held a hand out, leading me into the shower. Surprised, I followed, and Cole set both shower heads going so we both had spray.
The hot water did everything the caffeine and strawberries hadn't. It woke me up and it made the pain start to lose its grip on the places that had been punished. I was happy to bear the marks, to see the bruising and the handful of cuts from the cane. I was happy to sit on my punished ass, however it might hurt at the moment. But having the stiffness and soreness wash away was fine with me.
I took the soap in the shower, prepared to wash every inch of Cole's beautiful body, and to pay especial attention to a certain part of him. But he took the soap back and exchanged it for a body wash, one that smelled of jasmine and another that smelled of ocean water. He mixed them together in a heady scent and used them in my hair, gently on my face, on my sore nipples, under my arms, between my legs, down my legs to my knees. What he washed he rinsed and what he rinsed he kissed.
