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Cole
Annie Knox lay on her stomach against a crisp white hospital bed, her black lace covered ass in the air. There was no one else in the room and her backside was uncovered, open to the air. Best thing for burns. Her eyes were closed and she was snoring lightly.
My eyes were very open and I was considering just what was going to happen to Bevington before he ever had a chance to get to trial.
Between one snorting snore and the next, Annie opened her eyes and looked directly at me.
"You're supposed to be resting," I said automatically.
"I could hear you," she said.
"I wasn't doing anything."
She cocked her head patiently, without even sitting up. She gave great attitude. "Dude. You were thinking really loud, and you were staring at my ass."
"It's a great ass," I said appreciatively. "I'm going to cut down a paddle so I can spank the left cheek by itself until you're healed." There was know way of knowing what she'd been through until she told me, or until she wrote out a report. I relied on our dynamic.
She didn't flinch or gag or cringe away from the idea of sexual games. Instead, she studied me and said, "Red."
Then she smiled.
"Really? Red?" Her safe word. "It's not like I was going to do it right this minute."
She continued to watch me. Very judgey watching.
"Just until you call me Sir. I mean, dude?"
She smirked. And went back to sleep.
And instantly my smile faded. Her right butt cheek was blistered and bubbled, sweating in the cool air of the hospital. One blessing was it hadn't been covered. When trying for a brand, people cover the burns with plastic to make them sweat, both causing infection and making the scar take hold rather than heal.
I've been called a sick fuck by a lot of people, including Annie herself.
I would never have imagined doing anything like this to anyone. Let alone Annie.
She opened her eyes again.
"Why aren't you sleeping this time?"
She pushed her lips out, pretending to think about it. "Let's see. I've slept for nearly 24 hours, on my stomach since every time I turn on my side, someone pulls me back onto my stomach. My head is permanently stuck at this angle. You keep staring at me and thinking really loud, which makes it hard to sleep. And I have to pee, and that stupid nurse isn't around to make me use the bedpan, so if you'll either help me out or get out of the way – "
"I get a thrill watching you use the bedpan."
She made a face at me. "No water sports. Hard limit."
"You're a slave. You don't get hard limits."
"I'll pee on you." She said. When I looked at her she said, "I have terrible aim."
I sighed and helped her out of the bed, walked nervously behind her to the toilet and got the door shut in my face. I laughed. She was giving me so many new ideas. I said that.
She responded, "Don't talk to me while I'm peeing!"
When she came back out, she lay in the bed with her head propped on her hands, her upper body up on her elbows.
"Tell me what's happened," she said. "Please." She didn't add Sir. This was still her thing.
