The characters below are all from the genius and creativity of JE.
Jenny (JenRar) thank you for your hard work as the beta on this story.
Dina (aydinbydin) thank you for the comments and less than gentle prodding to post this story.
Chapter 25 – Punishment
Lester's POV
"Yo, man, you okay?" Vince asked from the passenger seat.
I knew he was probably worried about the speed with which I was driving back to Haywood, but I couldn't get the images out of my head from the latest skip we'd rounded up. The guy was a weapons dealer who never should have been bonded. When Vince knocked on the door, the fool decided to use the two little kids in his house as leverage for us to let him go so that he could escape out the back of the house.
Of course, I was at the back door, and the idiot was too stupid to realize only a novice would go for a skip pick up alone when dealing with someone as dangerous as this joker. So Vince played along, lifting his hands in the air and backing off the porch. The skip kept the kids in what amounted to head locks, forcing them to shuffle backwards while he moved to the rear door, where I was waiting.
Once he got the door knob in his hands and verified that Vince was standing down on the front porch, he pushed the kids hard, causing them to fall into the kitchen table, which was covered with dishes, and then he made a run for it.
I let him dash past me just so I could chase him down and have the satisfaction of beating on him a little for hurting those children. At least I had the excuse of him resisting being brought in for why I had to bruise his kidney, fracture a rib, bust his lip, and break his nose. It wasn't as satisfying as I'd hoped, but it did help a little.
Vince called for backup to haul the skip's sorry ass to jail while we waited for the blue and whites and social services to show up to deal with the kids. They were scared shitless, apparently having been told if they ever talked to guys that came to the house, their father would punish them for it. Seeing how he treated them when he knew someone was looking, I could only imagine how he would punish them when no eyes were there to hold him in check.
The more I thought about those frightened children, the more pissed off I became. I said I was doing this line of work to make the world a better place, but had I really done much good? Based on the look in their eyes, I hadn't done enough.
Vince interrupted my thoughts when the tires squealed in complaint over the speed at which I took the ninety degree turn. "Hey, man, is there another call we're responding to?" he questioned, probably hoping a different tactic would get through to me better.
I backed off a few miles an hour and got us to Haywood as quickly as I safely could. I went straight to the gym, needing to get the look of those two kids out of my head. By the time I'd gotten to them, they'd been huddled together, leaning against the underside of the overturned table, with a few surface scratches from the broken dishes their bodies had impacted. I had realized that I was only making their situation worse by continuing to approach them. I guessed from their point of view, I was the bastard who had beaten the shit out of their father, and even if he was a piss poor excuse for a dad, he was still probably all they had. Better the devil you know was a hard instinct to fight.
By the time I reached a punching bag, I already had my holster off. I toed off my boots so that I could use my feet for a few free kicks too and feel the full impact. Right now, I felt the need to punish something and to be punished in the process. I needed to hurt to remember the fact that my inability to control my anger had caused those kids to see me as a monster. Truth be told, they weren't that far off the mark in thinking that. I'd done a shitload of monstrous things in my thirty-five years.
I lost all track of time. I knew we'd gotten the jump on the skip somewhere around eighteen hundred hours, and we'd spent at least a couple of hours there after the fact waiting for everything to get settled. That explained why the gym was basically empty. I could hear a treadmill running and the occasional ringing of free weights hitting the rack, but for all intents and purposes, the gym was basically mine so that I could begin the process of teaching myself a lesson.
It began to get darker as the final rays of the sun died away from the windows and the muffled banging of the gym doors announced whichever of the guys had been sharing the space with me were clearing out for the night. It was just as well; I could feel my body beginning to wear down, and my knuckles were already swelling. I really didn't need an audience for this.
Years of survival training and practice taught me when I was being watched, and despite my assumption that the gym was empty, I knew someone was looking at me. I was more than ready to take one of the guys to the ground for leering at me, when they damn well should have known better. Sneaking up on somebody like me could get you killed, and apparently, somebody had a death wish.
I kicked the bag and then transitioned into a spin, charging in the direction where I'd felt a presence, only to come face to face with the biggest, most beautiful blue eyes I'd ever seen looking at me with concern and not even a hint of fear. I had charged at her with the intent of tackling her, but was able to pull back at the last minute so that there was only a couple of inches separating my sweating form from her calm, but stubbornly determined one.
"You scared me," I admitted, not worried about how much of a pussy it made me sound like.
"I didn't want to interrupt," she acknowledged. "But I figured you'd had enough and it was time to stop punishing the bag for something it didn't do."
I shook my head, not wanting to destroy her naivety. "It's not the bag I was punishing."
"The only other option of who was getting the short end of the stick in that battle would be you," she replied, understanding what I was saying, "and there's no way I'm going stand back and let that continue."
I tried to keep my tone neutral, recognizing she didn't deserve my anger in her direction. "Steph, I've had a shitty day, and I have to get some of it out. This is the only way that works for me."
She slowly moved her head from side to side. "No, it isn't."
I forced myself to draw in a deep breath, trying to find some measure of calm so that I could get her to leave.
Before I could speak, she jumped in, "If Bobby were here, you'd be able to get it out with him."
"True, but he's not here," I pointed out the obvious.
"No, but I am," she countered.
"I'm not taking you into the sparring ring. There's a big damn difference between the self defense moves I've been teaching you and a full blown fight when I'm on edge," I reminded her.
"Sometimes, you and Bobby do things other than fight."
I could tell she was trying to imply something without coming right out and saying it.
"You mean, in the past, if Bobby were here, I'd fuck him hard and fast." I knew I was being blunt, coarse, and in many ways, an ass, but I didn't have the ability to sensor myself.
"Bobby's not here, but I am. Why can't you do that with me, if it would help you, instead of literally beating yourself up?" she questioned, obviously pushing past her own discomfort in being so direct.
I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging at some of it until it stung on my scalp. "I'm not doing that to you."
"Why not?" she pushed.
"No," I repeated harshly, not wanting to discuss it any further for fear that she would somehow convince me to try it, knowing it was a recipe for disaster. If I took her the way I used to take Bobby, she'd end up hurt, bruised, and probably too scared to ever face me again. When I was messed up like this, I didn't want to think, so I just let whatever instinct rose to surface take over, and I couldn't risk losing control like that around her.
She moved slightly, getting more in my face and catching me off guard. "That's not an answer."
Obviously when Bobby and I were considering how wonderful it would be to have Steph's stubborn streak turned on us, we'd failed to consider this particular situation. She wouldn't let this go until she had an explanation, so I tried to give her enough to make her drop it without letting her see me for the fully flawed man I was.
"Look, when I'm like this, I need to shut my mind off. I need a little time when I'm not thinking so that when my brain comes back on board, it won't keep playing the same screwed up scene over and over. If I shut off my thinking then I can lose control, and if that happens, you may get hurt." I paused to let my words sink in, before adding, "I couldn't live with the thought of hurting you, especially not in our bed."
After a few blinks, she spoke. "Do your ears still work when you're like this?"
These whiplash subject changes were hard enough to keep up with when I was on top of my game. Now, I just had to go with the flow. "Sure, I can still hear."
No sooner had the words left my mouth then her hands reached out and grabbed fistfuls of my shirt, yanking me to her so that I had to move my feet to keep from being thrown off balance. "Then listen to me, Lester Santos," she spoke in a hard voice I'd never heard from her before. It was commanding and filled with an edge of don't mess with me or there'll be consequences, and it was going straight to my dick.
"You're going upstairs with me, right now"—I started to disagree, but she tugged harder at my shirt, effectively shutting me up—"and you're going to go straight to the bedroom and strip."
This was like a sexual fantasy that was quickly going off the tracks. On the one hand, my body wanted to obey, but my brain was screaming for me to run fast and hard before this blew up in my face.
"Once your clothes are off, you're going to lie down on your back on the bed with your arms stretched out at your sides. I'm not going to tie you down, but your hands are going to stay on the mattress and not on me, do you understand?" She didn't look me in the eye, but continued to keep her eyes glued to the side of my neck, like the vein there would tell her of my acceptance of her conditions.
"I could hurt you," I stated, and then began mentally swearing at the fact that those words basically meant I was giving in to her demands.
"No, you can't, because you aren't going to do a single thing unless I tell you to. You aren't going to touch me without permission, you aren't going to taste me without permission"—then her fists tightened on my shirt as though making sure she had my complete attention—"and you aren't going to come without my permission, either. The only thing you are going to do is lie there and await my instructions, focusing on my voice, my touch, and my body on yours."
And then the damned betrayer between my legs decided to make the decision for me by standing straight up at attention and pulling my hips forward until they pressed against hers.
Stephanie shook her head no and reiterated, "I can see we're going to have to work on this. I don't want you doing a thing"—to make her point, she thrust back against my hips, grinding us tighter together—"without my permission."
"Yes, ma'am."
I spoke as though I were used to being dominated every day. In truth, there were times that Bobby took over, and while I wasn't what you would call a submissive by any stretch, it was sometimes a refreshing switch to not have to do a thing but just give myself over to whatever he hand in mind. Honestly, I didn't think Stephanie had this kind of thing in her. Obviously, I wasn't expecting her to break out whips and chains or leather restraints in the apartment, but something told me if she kept this kind of attitude going, the movie loop stuck in my head would turn off so that I could focus on just her to see what unexpected surprise she'd come up with next.
Her hands let go of my shirt and smoothed it across my chest, still wet with sweat. "Good." She still used that assertive voice that told me even though she was letting me go, she still expected my full cooperation. "Now get your boots and your holster, and let's go upstairs."
Fifteen minutes later, I was spread out on top of the mattress, wondering if I would be able to hold back the impulse to let my animal free. I could feel the panic begin to build that if I flipped out, I could hurt her or seriously damage what we were building together with Bobby. On the flip side, I knew that if we were ever going to have something real, she would have to learn how to deal with the occasional meltdown by one of us, so we may as well test it now before we all traveled too far to back out.
When Steph came out of the bathroom, she wasn't wearing a stitch of clothes, and she was carrying a basin that I assumed had water in it. This was exactly the kind of thing I would usually love, but right now, I wasn't sure I could take her tender nursemaid routine without it making things worse.
She looked me in the eye and said, "Stop judging what you think is going to happen and just lay there quietly."
"All right," I replied, my voice dripping with doubt that this was going to work.
She slipped on a couple of gloves, which I thought was odd, and then dipped the wash cloth in the water and loosely wrung it out. "This might burn a little," she warned a millisecond before she put the cloth on the tender underside of my arm, proving that she'd filled the basin with just straight steaming water as hot as she could get from the tap.
"A little is an understatement," I told her, trying to hold back the urge to draw my arm across my chest to protect the skin from her burn treatment.
She stopped moving and held me with her gaze for a moment. "This doesn't require a commentary. You worked up quite a sweat downstairs, and you need to be cleaner before we can move on."
I concentrated on the stinging sensation as she continued to wash me with the steaming water, and I found that each time she put the cloth on me, it became easier to take. By the time she'd finished my arms and chest, I was concentrating on the pattern of her dipping the cloth in the water, allowing it to drip, wringing it out loosely, and then placing it on my body, letting the burn sink in slightly before moving it to clean me. With each section of stinging skin, I felt my brain unhooking more and more so that nothing else existed but her touch and the lingering tingles the cloth left in its wake.
She freshened the water when she reached my waist and jumped down to my feet to start again. And when she hit my thighs, I realized what she was doing. There was a big part of me that felt dirty, like there was something wrong with me. Stephanie didn't know what had happened, but she understood that I was trying to punish myself for that inherit filth. It was like being cleansed by fire where I was powerless to resist it, but by staying still and accepting it, I could feel the heaviness in my chest lifting by small degrees.
I heard her shucking the gloves and figured my penance was over, so I opened my eyes to see what she hand in mind for me next. After putting the water away, she climbed onto me so that she was straddling my groin. Despite the fact that I'd just been literally seared a little on the top layer of skin, the warmth between her legs quickly heated me up. She then reached over to a bottle of something on the bed and began working a little lotion in her hands before putting it on my chest and rubbing it in. It was cold, as though it had been in the fridge.
The stark contrast to the sensation of the hot cloth made me have to concentrate on controlling my responses to keep from cringing away from the icy lotion. She moved with efficiency, not hesitating to rub the white goo all over the skin, still reddened by the bath. If the wash cloth was burning away the sins of my past, the cold lotion felt like some sort of physical forgiveness, giving me a fresh start. I lifted my chin, pulling my face away from where she was to keep any emotion that might be showing from being visible to her.
Cool fingers touched my cheeks before her voice rang out, "Don't do that. Hiding from me isn't part of this." She began to rub with light touches across my cheek and up to my forehead, her hands mirroring each other. "There's never a place for hiding in this room."
I nodded that I understood, but said nothing.
She finished her work in silence, continuing to shock my skin with the chilly lotion and keeping my mind focused on the transformation from burning to cold across my body. Slowly, as my mind began to come back to me, I realized she'd switched from the cold shock treatment to a gentler massage, and her hips were rocking slowly against me, as well.
My body ached to respond to her movement, but I recalled her instruction in the gym about me following only her directions and not acting out of my own wants or desires, so I fought to keep my body still. I was about to beg her to do something – anything – to me when she stopped and crawled off of me, leaving me alone on the bed for a moment. I didn't like the feeling of being by myself, left to the dark places where my mind went when I had nothing to distract me.
Just when I was about to lose my mind, she returned, and my eyes focused on her, thinking that she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. There was a reason I used that nickname for her, and seeing her slowly walking toward me, I was struck again at how fitting it was for her.
"All right, Les," she said, breaking the silence of the room. "Let's see how good you are at following my directions. Remember to keep your body still until I tell you, and no matter what, don't come without me giving you permission first, got it?"
I nodded yes and was rewarded with a smile, which put me at ease. The threat of darkness that had begun to attack when she'd left disappeared now that she was smiling at me, and I was once again completely in the moment.
Her movements were so controlled and slow that it was almost like she was working in slow motion, drawing out every physical sensation from even the slightest change in position. Long moment later, she lifted up and positioned me at her center, sliding down so that I was enveloped by her moist heat. My head tilted back, and I fought to stay on top of the desire to thrust. There were times that I thought holding my release back was torture, but I could easily see that not being allowed to even move was going to be much worse.
She moved against me in smooth, rocking motions, not in any kind of hurry. Sitting straight up over me, she allowed the points of her fingernails to run down my chest, renewing the stinging sensation when she pressed down against me. Before my body could adjust to the heaven of her surrounding me, she stopped and just sat there perfectly still. I had no idea she could be that immobile, and I briefly wondered if this was as hard on her as it was on me.
Before my mind could get very far with that line of thought, she tightened the muscles surrounding me so that I felt like my dick was in some kind of sauna-like vice grip. It was incredible, and my hips moved before I could stop them. The light stinging of her nails increased, and I knew she was intentionally digging into my chest as a punishment. I nodded, unable to speak, just to let her know I understood she was telling to me settle down.
For the next half hour, she alternated between slow movements and then gripping me with her internal muscles, taking me to the brink of exploding before stopping so that I couldn't find a release. My mind was torn between wanting to beg for her to let me move and take her until we both came together and wanting this moment to stretch on as long as she could maintain it because I was floating in a place where nothing existed but the connection between us.
I felt her lean down and place a soft kiss against my lips. She pulled back just enough to say, "You can put your hands on my back, but you can't touch my hips."
I was worried that any type of touching would be too much, but I followed her directions anyway. I couldn't remember ever feeling skin this soft under my fingers, and I let my hands roam over her back randomly. I figured this single moment in time was about as close to heaven as I would ever get, but I didn't care. Whatever my ultimate judgment turned out to be, I'd happily accept, because I'd have this memory to sustain me for an eternity.
She pushed up slightly, making the angle better, and then said, "Okay, Les, let go and come with me." Her voice was breathy and a little deeper than usual, making it the single sexiest sound I'd ever heard.
My brain couldn't even process the words she'd spoken before my body took over and began to move with her. It wasn't in a frenzy to take over; it was just to complete the communion between us so that we were coming together, not with a bang, but with wave after wave of consuming pleasure.
The flashing random colors behind my eyelids told me I was squeezing my eyes shut too hard, so I tried to force them to relax and failed. I couldn't move a muscle on my own.
Stephanie moved before I could figure out how to and began to stroke my face like she was painting it with her fingertips. "It's all right, Les. You can relax. It's just us, and I'm not going anywhere."
She kept on rambling, soothing with her voice and her touch until my mind began to slip and drifted off to sleep.
When I woke up next, it was pitch black in the bedroom. Stephanie was curled up against me, with no distance between our bodies. I would have tightened my grip on her and willed myself back to sleep, but I heard the apartment door open and close, and I knew Bobby had returned. A quick look at the clock showed it was nearly one in the morning, so I moved as carefully as possible and got out of bed without waking Stephanie. She was still gloriously naked, and I hoped she would stay in that exact position and state of undress until Bobby and I both returned to bed.
I grabbed a pair of boxers from the dresser and slipped them on before walking out to the living room to see my partner. He looked beat, but he grinned when he saw my no doubt thoroughly sexed up appearance.
"I see she found a way to get through to you," he stated the obvious.
He must have seen the confusion on my face, because he kept talking. "Cal called me while you were in the gym and asked if somebody should offer to get in the ring with you. Since Tank and Ranger were both gone, I didn't think anybody else should try it. Then he swore and told me that Steph had just interrupted you, and you looked poised to kill."
"I'll bet you started driving back then, didn't you?" I asked, knowing how close I'd come to hurting her in the gym.
"No," he surprised me by confessing. "It's strange, because I should have, but I knew you wouldn't hurt her, and I figured she'd either help you or leave you in the gym to sort it out yourself until I could get home."
"Obviously I didn't hurt her." I felt the need to assure him I hadn't hurt the most precious thing in our lives.
"Shit, man, I never thought you would," he told me, holding more faith in me than I had in myself.
"I came home about three hours ago and saw her on top of you, with you still as a board, and I watched you two." When he said that, he looked down, like he was ashamed to admit he'd enjoyed the show.
If it had been anyone else, I'd have torn into them, but this was Bobby, and the idea of him watching Stephanie riding me didn't hook anything in me other than the odd desire to see her do the same thing to him.
"I don't know how long I stood there while she absolutely ruled your body, keeping you focused on nothing but her," he explained, letting me know it wasn't just a quick peek, but a full fledged experience. "In the end, I got a page to go to the ER, or I'm pretty sure my sorry peeping Tom ass would still be standing there."
I wanted to say something funny, something to lighten the mood and put his mind at ease, but for some reason, my mind was still blank. Hell, I hoped that experience with Steph hadn't left me like this permanently. Realizing my mouth wasn't going to help, I just went with my gut and walked over to Bobby before shocking the hell out of both of us and throwing my arms around him.
Sure, we'd been together for years, and we'd begun to touch more and more the longer we were together, but this kind of thing wasn't typical for us. It took him a couple of seconds before he lifted his arms and returned the gesture. We stood there gripping each other, and I felt like we were saying all kinds of things, but no words were necessary to get the point across.
It was a voice, thick with sleep from the doorway of the bedroom, that finally broke us apart. "Why don't you two hit the shower and then come join me in bed? It's really lonely in there by myself."
I looked back at Bobby and raised an eyebrow in question. "Come on," he replied, obviously still able to communicate verbally, even though I couldn't. "I'll help you wash your back."
I grinned then, knowing that if Bobby washed my back, he'd just turn around and dirty it again. We moved to the bedroom to use the master shower because it accommodated us both easily. Just before I passed by Stephanie, I leaned down and kissed her check. "Thank you," I whispered before moving on, not giving her a chance to respond.
I knew I owed her a lot more than a weak token of gratitude, but I had to offer something. This angel had come into our lives and was turning them upside down. We'd begun this path wondering if a little softness could make a difference to us, and tonight, that question had been answered with a resounding yes. I may not have screamed it out loud, but it was there just the same.