Page 28 of He Hate Me

“I’m just used to being sore, from cheer. Trust me when I say I’m still feeling it.” I’ve learned to put pain out of mind when I have to, to just push it to the side and focus on the right now. On the minute I’m currently in.

Brandon lightly strokes the outside of my thigh. “You’re beautiful,” he says. I feel his warm breath on the small of my back, then soft press of his lips just above my buttocks. I freeze, afraid to move. I’m really conflicted. Last night, in the heat of the moment I gave in to my sexual desires, but the unequal power dynamic that I forgot about when my pussy was doing the thinking for me is impossible to ignore.

I feel something cool land on the top of my right butt cheek. Gently, Brandon spreads it with his fingers, till all the areas he spanked are covered. He repeats the action on the other side.

“What is that?”

“It’s healing ointment. It’s supposed to soothe the skin and help you heal faster.”

“Thanks.”

“It just needs a minute to absorb. You can just stand there—I don’t mind the view.”

“You’re kind of a pervert, aren’t you, Brandon?”

“You don’t know the half.”

“I know you like spanking.”

“Spanking, a little bondage, sure, but what I really like is inflicting a little pain. When I take your virginity, it’s going to be exquisite.”

Forgetting that he can see my face reflected in the vanity mirror, I do nothing to hide my horror. Brandon steps closer, brushing my braids over my shoulder. He rearranges them, admiring my reflection in the mirror. His middle finger pushes between my butt cheeks, teasing my other virgin hole.

“Judgement from the girl who creamed when I spanked her and practically purred when I tortured her nipples? A little hypocritical there, Deja.”

“I didn’t do those things.”

“I was there, remember. You like receiving what I like to give. We’re a match. You just have to relax and listen to your body.”

“I would prefer to use my brain, thank you very much.”

“It’s not the easiest thing to accept your own deviance. It took me a long time to understand and embrace my kinks. I can be patient, Deja.”

“Can I pull my pants up now?”

“Sure.” Instead of letting me, though, he reaches down and pulls them up for me. He turns me around and hands me a bottle that reads, “Aftercare Skin Lotion.”

“You can put this on morning and night for the next few days. It will soothe the skin and speed up healing. I put some on your skin after our session, or you’d probably be in more pain right now.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to thank him for that, but why should I. He’d orchestrated the whole thing. Why should I thank him for cleaning up a mess that he made? Taking care of me had been the least he could do.

“Okay,” I say, “I have some reading to do, so...”

“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.” He gives me a little wink, then unlocks the door and exits.

Eleven

Deja

Monday morning, I wake up at 6:00 a.m. I usually get my day started with a run on the treadmill, but my ass is still feeling pretty sore. I wash my face and give the scrubbed clean surface an honest appraisal. There are slight bags under my eyes from a restless night. I spread some of the ointment on my butt and let it soak in while I do my makeup.

Staring at my reflection under the harsh, white light from the bulbs above the mirror, I wonder what Brandon sees when he looks at me. He called me beautiful last night, but he was probably just referring to my butt, which is 100 the best-looking ass I’ve ever seen, if I do say so myself. As for my face I’m cute, but I don’t know about beautiful.

After getting dressed, I go downstairs and sit at the breakfast bar to eat my egg whites and oatmeal. Brandon sits across from me. His gaze flicks down to my chest and lingers for a moment. My sore nipples perk up for him. I stare him down, and he shrugs, a hint of a smirk playing across his lips. He’s so annoying.

“Mom,” I say. “I’m going to Ms. Khadijah this weekend to get my braids touched up. Want me to see if Tina has an opening?” Tina does my mom’s perm and cut. She works in the same salon as Khadijah.

“Sure,” she replies absentmindedly, her attention focused on something on her iPad as she picks at her cut-up fruit. “Could you give Brandon a ride to school?”