Chapter 17: Matter of Discipline
A/N: I think I deserve a round of applause, usually it would take me about two weeks to write a chapter for this fic but I got it down in less than one. Ya girl been working! Now...it's time to give the people what they want.
As the days passed as slowly as they could, you tired distracting yourself by doing things like keeping the enormous house in tip top shape. Matter of factly, you would probably have a dinner spread laid out for him if you knew exactly what day he'd be coming back home. But unfortunately you didn't. And the past few days have been spent in a constant state of worry. With your overactive imagination combined with your over-thinking, it provided a powder keg of issues for you. Simply put, John has you all fucked up in the head.
No amount of pacing is going to fix or change anything. Even after being on the phone with your friends for over two hours, hasn't gotten you any closer to getting rid of your distress. As far as you know, John has never given you a reason to be afraid of him until now. It's truly a surreal feeling. Not one you can ever get used to.
You can't blame your friends for this. At the end of the day, you were the one who made the choice to leave. You could've said no but you didn't and that's why you're here. You were wildin, you can wholeheartedly admit that. It's easily one of the stupidest things you've ever done. Merely saying you fucked up is a major understatement. John has every right to be pissed at you and a man like that is not to be played with.
Sweetface has definitely noticed your anxiousness and tried multiple methods of calming you down, whether it's cuddling or bringing you his toys to play with. Neither of which have been able to do the trick. You appreciate his sweet efforts nonetheless.
To put it bluntly, you're scared as hell and there's nothing anyone can say to alleviate the ongoing fear that's had a hold on you these past couple of days. From him, there's been no call, no text, no anything. For this reason, you know there's no sweet talking your way out of this. You couldn't downplay this even if you wanted to.
With John you're become used to the princess treatment but now you're not sure what to expect from him now that you've gone and done what you did. Now you're left questioning your own thought process behind everything. Sometimes your stubbornness will get you in more trouble than you can handle and it's not the first time you've come to that conclusion.
In addition to that, you're positive that you've hurt your chances of him willingly considering your request to be taken out to a public place. It's bad all around. Regardless of what your friends have to say, things aren't looking good for you no matter how you mince it.
Jasmine and Alexis haven't made it any better.
"I seen him come in looking all serious. Deadass walked in like an angry parent catching their child at a party they weren't supposed to be at. Chile I couldn't help you even if I wanted to, and I really did." Jasmine jokingly explained.
Alexis was quick to chime in. "Me either. He looked like he was ready to whoop sum. I'm sorry but I can't get put on punishment like you."
"I can't get over how you didn't even say anything, you just got up and left with him. Is that how it is?" Jasmine questioned.
You snorted. "That's exactly how it is. If you knew what I knew..."
"Me and Pj probably would've caused a scene. He would've had to drag me out by my wig, drunk and all." Alexis laughed. At least she was able to find the humor in everything.
"So toxic…" Jasmine muttered under her breath.
"I know you ain't talking."
"Can y'all not right now...like for real." You urged, rubbing a hand over your irritated eyes.
"He still hasn't come back yet?"
You sighed. "No. And I haven't heard anything from him either."
"Maybe he forgot. Either that or he's super mad at you."
"Don't say that…"
"Well we got to be realistic here!" Alexis exclaimed. "What did he say before he left?"
The pacing stopped. Taking a moment to inhale, you recalled the chilling words that had been echoing in your mind for days now. It's not like there's a chance in hell that you could ever forget them.
Disobedience will never go unpunished.
"He said, disobedience will never go unpunished."
While you nearly shuddered, Alexis had a different reaction. "The fuck?"
Jasmine was no different as she remarked. "Oh girl...you might be in trouble. The only men that say shit like that are the crazy ones from those low budget lifetime movies."
"And the ones that like to put women in collars and shit! You sure he doesn't have any screws loose because you might get your own lifetime movie soon if he doesn't."
"Girl you and him are probably gonna have to fight when he gets home. That's what it's sounding like to me."
"Speaking of fighting, if it comes down to that, we're just one text or call away. We remember where he lives so...it won't take anything to pull up and jump him. I'm on whatever y'all on."
You rolled your eyes. She always suggested jumping people like they were the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. As much as you hated the franchise, the yellow one was always your favorite. You know better than anybody that John is one hundred percent with the shits. Period point blank. When it comes to him, nobody is going to be able to jump shit.
"He's not that kind of man, I wouldn't be with him if he was. He's really good to me. We've never even had an argument before." You earnestly asserted. "I'm just...starting to wish I never left the house."
"Don't feel too bad. Think about all the times I had to sneak out and party behind my dudes back and y'all covered my ass."
"But this is different. I got caught! You didn't. And even if I didn't get caught, I don't know how to lie as good as you."
"You're right. I can lie my ass off."
"That's a shame."
"No, that's a skill." Alexis corrects. There was rarely a time where she didn't mean exactly what she said.
You rubbed a hand over your frustrated face. "I called because I thought y'all might give me peace of mind but y'all are not making me feel better."
The other end of the phone went quiet for a number of seconds.
"Girl, you can bounce back from this! Let me tell you what I do. When he's mad and doing all that yelling and stuff...just cry."
Pulling the phone from your ear, you looked at it incredulously before placing it back. "Huh?"
"Cry! And I mean cry your ass off. Break down like a laptop that updates when you're writing a last minute paper. Make that shit Oscar worthy."
"Lex, how exactly is crying going to help her?"
"It'll make him feel bad for even bringing it up."
Admittedly, you're not the best actress even on a good day. Crying on command is not a skill that you have down pat. How did she think you were? Viola Davis?
"Isn't that a little manipulative?"
"Ugh...bitch do you wanna get out of trouble or not? I'm not gonna drop any more of my jems if you're not gonna use them." She said in that same blunt tone you came to recognize.
You sighed for what felt like the tenth time in five minutes. "Look I gotta go. I'll talk to y'all later."
Honestly, you can't stop thinking about what the supposed punishment might be - what he had planned. You're about ready to throw yourself in the abyss just from not knowing. Clarity to you is everything. Presumably, him having you wait is likely a part of it. It's cruel at best but extremely effective. Unsurprisingly, your own annoying tendency to overthink has robbed you of peace countless times. It's unavoidable.
Would he take the car keys away? Now that you think about it, your car is still at your apartment complex while the keys are still in your purse. All you had to do was have one of your friends take you to get it but you wouldn't dare leave the house under the threat of the assassin finding out.
Even as an only well-behaved child, you've never had to deal with any punishments from your parents. Maybe the occasional verbal reprimand but nothing too severe that constituted as a punishment. With John being what he is, he probably knows more than a thing about punishment. He's lived with structure, orderliness, and strict regulation. One of the many ways a person can get to that point is through punishment.
Going by his own words, John hadn't even finished his mission. The mission you suggested he take. That meant he quite literally stopped whatever he was doing to come scoop you up. The thought of which will likely echo in your mind for the duration of your mind for a long time. How did he even know where you were? That's the million dollar question.
He dropped you off at the house and left to carry out the job he was hired for. In spite of everything else, he's clearly a man who handles business and you've got no choice but to respect that. Still, you'd rather have him 'punish' you the day of instead of leaving and having you agonize over what he would do when he finally returned. You wonder if he's foreseen this happening. No man should have this type of power over you, and yet, you find the concept exhilarating. The sheer severity of it is not lost on you either.
You slumped unceremoniously on the living room couch which is more comfortable than it should've been at that moment.
All you can do is wait.
In your chaotic musing, you don't even register your eyes drifting closed. Sleep had been somewhat difficult to attain but you'd been able to manage.
A distinguishable rumbling sound is the first thing you perceive as your awareness gradually returns. It takes only about two seconds for you to grasp what that sound means. The sudden realization has you jumping up from the couch in a panic.
He's finally back.
For some time, you've tried to convince yourself that you were fully prepared for his imminent return and right now, you feel quite the opposite.
Leaping from the couch, your eyes dart around in search of a place where you could feign normality and present yourself as unbothered as by his arrival. Whether it was the kitchen, living room, or up the stairs. Sweetface has already taken his place by the garage door, excitedly waiting for John to walk through. You only wished that you shared his enthusiasm. Though you can't lie and say that you've never been thrilled by John's return after a mission. You have been, many times in fact. Now just isn't one of them.
The car's ignition finally goes silent and you're mentally bracing yourself for whatever's coming.
After running back and forth, unable to decide on a right course of action, you pause. What you're doing is ridiculous. There's no place for you to run. And there's no point in pretending you're not anxious for the long dreaded reunion. It's a bit of a sorted decision, but you choose to stand by the couch until he comes through the door, then you'll greet him like nothing's wrong.
At this point, what other course of action can you take?
You spend a short time pondering when you hear the door opening and the excited padding of Sweetface's paws against the floor.
John acknowledges the pouch, likely giving him a gat on the head. "Good boy."
This is when you choose to make your appearance. After some deep calming breaths, you walk around the corner to the foyer. As expected, John is there trying to appease an overly worked up pup that's jumping over and around him. The sight is all kinds of adorable and you wished you could have it filmed and played on a loop for hours. It's when the man's deep brown orbs lock with yours that you feel compelled to speak.
"Welcome back." Unconsciously, your hands have started wringing together nervously.
There's a faint cut on his chin and a small abrasion on his right cheek. Despite John's dark almost shoulder length hair being slightly mussed, he looked alright. Perfectly fit and exceedingly capable of doing whatever he intended to do to you. Immediately, you shook the thoughts away, you can't afford to go there right now.
He seems surprisingly tranquil for a man that's supposed to 'punish' you. For a second, you think that maybe he's forgotten what he's promised you but you know him better than that. John would never forget anything of the sort. There's no use in trying to place yourself in his mind frame in order to try and understand the way he processes things. It's an impossible feat you can never dream to carry out. He must be exhausted, so you opt to accommodate him as best as you can.
"I'll get your bags from the car."
"There's no need."
The response is predictable. You knew he was too much of a gentleman to ever let you carry his luggage from his car regardless of the circumstances. But it was still worth a try.
"Okay, I'll go run you a bath then." This time you don't give him a chance to answer and immediately head for the stairs.
After fiddling with the nobs, the huge tub begins to fill with a mixture of hot and cold water. No one likes for their water to be unbearably hot. Well...you're the exception to this. You make sure to add some bubbles and Epsom salt as well. A bath can help a person unwind from the stresses of the day, relieve muscle tension, and offer a bit of peace for the mind. John is in need of all three.
A glance into the bathroom shows you that John has entered the bedroom and begun to strip down from his elaborate suit attire. Your heartbeat quickened.
It's crazy how you have to mental prepare yourself before you face him again. Once you venture back into the bedroom, you and your lover lock eyes without any prompting. There's a glint in his eye but the peculiar expression is something akin to unreadable. For you, it's beyond difficult to interpret such a cryptic expression.
"The bath is almost ready. I'm going to go get dinner started." You mentioned.
A beat of silence passes.
"That's not necessary."
You sucked in an inaudible breath. "Why not? Aren't you hungry?"
"No."
He didn't even want you to cook him dinner - that's something different. It's certainly not partial to his normal behavior. In fact, you can't recall this happening before. You didn't think it was possible to feel worse but now the feeling is amplified by ten.
"Oh okay. I'll be downstairs then."
You can feel it all around - that awkward tension between the two of you. It's so bizarre and unnatural.
Back in the living room, the tv is showing Fantastic Mr. Fox on the stars channel. The film is one of many derived from Roald Dahl's literary expertise. Considering that you've read almost all of his books when you were a child, naturally they hold a special place in your heart. Books like 'The Witches', 'Matilda', and 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory' have had a huge impact on your childhood. You're also a huge fan of the stop-animation films - something about them is different from the regular animated ones. In fact, your favorites happened to be Fantastic Mr. Fox and Coraline.
At first Coraline terrified you since you were young when you first watched it but after a few more watches, you began to develop a deeper appreciation for the film. Looking at the screen, you just realized that both films were released the same year.
You watched the fox and his friend steal things from a farmer and wind up getting caught. Considering your current circumstances, the film really hit home for you. A fox that got caught doing something he knew he wasn't supposed to. Generally speaking, you always admired how cleverly Mr. Fox got him and his peers out of the trouble he'd caused. You only wished that he could come up with a plan to get you out of your mess. For this movie to be playing at this exact time - fate has to be playing the cruelest joke. This type of cosmic shit only happens to you. And like Mr. Fox, an exception cannot be made for what you've done.
You're so immersed in your thoughts that you don't even hear John come down the winding stairs and head into the kitchen.
When he ventures into the living room you can see that his hair is slightly damp and shiny and he's dressed down to a shirt and boxers. Surprisingly, sweetface does not follow him. When he returns from the kitchen you can see that one of his hands is wrapped around a rocks glass with two ice cubes and filled marginally with a brown liquid. The liquid you assume to be bourbon, a drink that you've acknowledged as a favorite. With his calm face and reasonable temper. Considering that he's an Eastern European man, it must come naturally to him.
When your eyes cut down to his lap, you can see that his boxers are heavily tinted. The sight makes your heart beat even faster.
The unresolved tension in the air has started to come to a head, lingering heavily in the surrounding air. Both hostile and sexual. You can't really help how your body has started fidgeting to cope.
The room quickly lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. The television is on the lowest possible volume so it can't provide any type of distraction, at least not one that would help your cause.
Usually, you're not a confrontational sort of person but you can't handle the anticipation of what's to come. Three full days of it was enough already. John has never been the type to engage in pointless chatter and you're tired of impatiently waiting for him to make a move. The most you can do is try to facilitate a conversation. The mere attempt will be more than enough.
Now it's time to deal with the older man you're slightly afraid of.
"Can we just get this over with?" You spoke up first, voice resolute and full of determination.
Steely brown eyes, meet yours and a deep monotone responds fluently. "Get what over with?"
The latter statement made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. "This...what I did."
"And what did you do?"
The hitman's body language gave no indication of how he felt inside or what he might be thinking. Then again, you know how good he is about encapsulating his emotions.
"You know what." You replied, gaze full of thinly veiled apprehension.
An intimidating aura excluded from him as he lounged causally from his place on the other couch to your left. "I want to hear you say it."
Your stomach promptly did flips upon hearing the heady declaration. Just what had you gotten yourself into?
When you look at him you're not shocked to find a heavily-lidded gaze locked on you. "I left the house after you said not to."
John elaborated gently. "You did. But before we get into that. I would like to pose a previous question I asked beforehand."
You drew in a long breath. Well, that certainly took you by surprise.
"Do you feel as though your actions are wrong? Take some time to consider your answer." He murmured.
All of a sudden, you can't get enough air into your lungs. A question like that makes it clear that he wasn't going to let the incident slide. You sat there in quiet contemplation. Guilt ultimately led to you providing a more honest answer this go around, the one you should've given days ago. "Yes."
One dark eyebrow rose. "Oh? Why the sudden change in heart?"
"Because I realize now that what I did was wrong and that I should've listened to you." You lamented.
You both have clear set boundaries and expectations and you should've known better.
You're sure he's studied your body language enough to know when you're nervous. And this is definitely one of those times. The feeling is swirling deep in your gut and honestly you can do without it. You're struggling to push the feeling down when John's impassive voice reaches you again.
"I know that lately you're hard of hearing…"
You quickly catch onto it, that was meant to be a subtle dig at you. You remember how you pretended not to hear him in the car garage the day he left.
"...so I'll speak in a manner you're able to fully comprehend. Because I don't want this to become a regular occurrence."
The way the man is lowkey scolding you is slightly reminiscent of how your father only had to give you a look to make you want to cry. He's like a stern father. For you to make that connection doesn't feel weird at all. Rather, accurate since he fills a number of roles in your life and for that you find a small comfort.
"What I want you to understand is...this is not an issue of punishment. It's one of discipline."
"In fact, what you've shown consistently is a lack of care. But mostly, you lack discipline." The calmness of his voice is almost scary. Men like him don't need to raise their voice to get a point across.
"During my early training, in times where there needed to be correction...both wants and needs were denied. Food, water. It didn't matter. You disobey, you will soon pay for it."
You inwardly grimaced, a life like that sounded brutal. You wouldn't last a day that's for sure. He's lived a hard life, something you know absolutely nothing about. As an afterthought, you briefly considered Alexis' advice about crying. But after you gave it some thought you ditched the idea soon after.
"Acute denial of wants and needs - nothing is a better motivation for change." He quipped.
He sought to correct the errant behavior you'd engaged in a few nights prior. In the murder business, you're sure he's doled out punishment to others countless amounts of time.
His chestnut eyes darkened. "With that in mind, I believe it's time for that punishment you mentioned."
A shred of panic surged inside of you.
The sexual tension is stifling.
You thought you might sink into the floor when your lover beckoned. "Come here." His gaze is pinned squarely on you, willing you to do as he bid in an orderly manner.
By this point in time, fear is burning in your chest like isopropyl alcohol on a fresh cut.
Without further prompting, you stood up from the sofa and came to stand in front of his seated form. This is one of the first times you've seen him in a quesi-slouched position before. It's like he was embodying a different side of himself that you hadn't known existed. And it's painting a very sexy picture of him.
"Strip." John instructs as he sits back to watch you steadily, glass of bourbon still in his hand. This let you know straight away that he wasn't joking in the slightest.
You stared at him with a dropped jaw and shocked eyes. The request was so demanding and intense. In fact, it didn't seem much like a request in the first place. Matter of fact, you're positive that it wasn't.
When you take too long heeding the order, brown eyes snap to yours. "Milaya." The tone of his deep voice is stern. It encourages a level of meekness you didn't even know you were capable of. The expression on his face is petrifying you - it's not one you're used to seeing. He looked...dead in the eyes. It doesn't take long for you to decide what's in your best interests.
As you pulled the t-shirt over your head, you tried not to make him aware of your bewilderment.
If you dared put on a show of resistance there's little to no doubt that he'll break you down worse than he already planned to do. You start to slowly ease your leggings down, careful not to take your panties with them.
The way he's looking at you - you've never seen that look before. It's then you realize - John is a hot-bloodied man to his core. It's quite the surprise to find out that your easy-going lover has a temperament that may be worse than yours. "What did you think I meant by strip?"
"Turn around."
Your jaw tightened in response. A person, especially a man telling you to kneel down just doesn't sit well with you. Quite frankly, it's enough for you to go on the offensive and have you ready to fight. Despite being partly rebellious by nature, you do as he says to avoid the strife of not doing so. You have to remember who you're dealing with here.
John's voice remained low and deadly serious. "Kneel."
At the present, it's not your place to deny him. You lower your body to the floor, not able to see what his face looks like behind you.
"Hands and knees."
You inhaled sharply. Instantly, that command gave you more pause than the previous one. Why did he want you to get on your hands and knees?
"And your thighs...spread them." Okay, this was starting to make your cheeks heat up. Somehow you managed to swallow your pride and do exactly as he instructed. Very slowly, you eased your thighs apart. The position is new and totally impersonal in comparison to every other sexual position you've tried. The position gives him the control needed to subjugate you further. You're disturbed by the fact that you can't see him or anything he'll be doing to you. The things you'll be able to perceive is feeling and touch. While you're starving for any sexual contact from him, you don't really know what to expect.
"Spread them." The man huskily demanded again.
"But - I already spread my thighs." You explained uneasily.
"I wasn't referring to your thighs..."
Oh. Oh. It couldn't be...could it?
John wouldn't ask you to do something so...dirty. So depraved. But then again...
Swallowing timidly, you take both hands and spread your cheeks open to the man's leering gaze, face pressing into the soft carpet. The positioning is notably horrifying and must've provided him quite the visual. Your cunt and asshole are on full display for him, both holes exposed to his view. The examination was motifying, invading, and insanely erotic. It's not like he hasn't seen them both before. The interest in them isn't all that concerning let alone surprising.
But to have this older, experienced man running his gaze over your most intimate parts has your cheeks burning. Whether in shame or arousal, you don't exactly know. You're left to wonder what he's getting out of this, leering hungrily at your cunt and backside - the sight of which you know he's already committed to memory. Clearly he's fixated on them both.
A soft clinking sound against a hard surface caught your attention and before you can gage what it might be, a hot, heavy hand makes contact with your brown skin along your thigh. Your heart fluttered girlishly. Another hand joins and both start to move over your backside. It's like he's exploring your body for the first time again. Even with him barely touching you, you're still overly responsive.
The hands leave your body and you hear the faint rustle of fabric behind you. Soon your hair is pulled from the loose ponytail it's being held in., leaving the hair to fall wherever it wants.
In no time at all, two fingers are placed at your lips and you already know what he wants you to do. Your lips part and he slips the digits right in to settle on your tongue. Knowing what he expects, you close your lips around his fingers and coat them in an abundance of saliva before he pulls his hand away. Shortly afterwards, dexterous fingers are brushing the lips of your pussy, ignoring your tingling clit before the hand disappears completely.
With wet fingers, John massages the cluster of nerves around the bud, coaxing the muscles there to contract reflexively. The man presses a thumb experimentally into the delicate pink flower and you whimper softly. The pressure there felt strangely good. You simply can't believe you're situated on the floor with a raised ass while he indulgently probed your butthole with a wet thumb. The interest he's showing in the unpenetrated orifice is enough for you to gage the curiosity. It seemed like he wanted to do more than touch it. Never in life have you taken a dick in the ass and you never thought that you'd be open to the prospect.
When the thumb begins to dip inside, your back immediately bows, thighs shaking uncontrollably. The strange feeling is amplified. One finger is already a challenge for you to take, but you'll have a real problem on your hands if he decides to stick something bigger inside. The thumb retreats only to be replayed by two saliva coated fingers that find themselves at your back entrance. Irrelevantly, you know what's about to happen with crystal clarity - this is too raunchy to be taking place on a living room floor.
John gently fingers inside the pink rosebud with an unhurried pace, your inner muscles stretching to accommodate him. The combination of your slick and spit makes the entry much easier. From behind, you can feel him lining himself at your drenched opening.
Nevertheless when he impales you with searing hot dick, you're thrown into a pleasure induced haze. The fingers have not receded from your back passage. The double penetration bathes you in rapture, it's almost too much for your overwrought self to handle. Trying to steady both hands on the carpet proved more difficult than you thought it'd be.
Without much delay, John begins with forceful lunges into your soaking pussy, tunneling deeper and deeper while the thick digit remains inside your backside.
Your breathing made you sound like you were suffocating.
He was fucking you like you were being punished. Oh wait. You were.
John adjusts your hips to his liking and continues going, driven by how your creaming hole is constructing him. He's thoroughly unrelenting and it leaves your legs quivering. The aggressiveness of it all has your lower half throbbing something vicious. He's much colder and less caring. It doesn't matter what utterance you let out, John never pauses his thrusts to accommodate your oversensitivity. You're close to coming undone.
The pressure builds up and you're about to cum harder than you've ever come in your life when the hitman suddenly pulls out leaving you empty and unsated. The result is heart-rending.
A sob leaves your lips as a consequence. "Nooo...why?"
One of John's hands comes to grip at your nape in response, a monotonous whisper reaches your ears. "Te, kto poslushny, poluchat nagradu."
Frankly, you have no idea what he's just whispered to you. You have no way of knowing unless he tells you himself.
Like a true strategist, John waits until the blissful tinges have subsided to resume the mind-numbing assault. He expertly launches a devastating crusade of deep strokes on your sweet spot, your arms promptly give out and your cheek ends up pressed to the floor, ass still raised in the air. From there, the angle is changed, sensation from his pistoning hips heightened. It's almost like he's going as deep and hard as he can. Your moans turn into near screams.
The feeling is so overwhelming that you have to reach back and place a hand at his abdominal muscles. In retaliation, John caught a hold of your wrist and held it away from his body. Before you even get a chance to let the other take its place, he secured the other wrist without any prompting. Now he's holding both your arms back, deliberately making it hard for you to fight against him. His hands basically ensured you weren't going anywhere even if you tried. The roughness of it all made your belly hot, a light sheen of sweat starting to coat your jostled frame.
"Do you want me to stop?" The sultry timbre of voice in which he posed the question made you confused and all the more horny.
"Yes! Uhhh….no. I mean...please."
You're so happy that he can't see your face at this very moment because you probably look worse than a mess.
"Why? I don't think I'm doing anything wrong." He mocked.
You should've seen this coming, him using your own words against you. At the time, you thought you knew what meaning they held but it's clear that might not be the case. They obviously resonated with him more than yourself.
It's safe to say that John has your mind, body, and soul in the palm of his capable hands.
If this is discipline, then it's the sweetest, most harsh discipline you've ever known. If he wanted your complete submission then he's gotten it. There was only so much hammering you could handle. "Ugh, can we...take a break?" You moan helplessly.
"Net." He drawls, the accent thick.
The word has to translate to a swift negative, and you only guess that because he doesn't stop hammering away at your sensitive cunt with a stiff pulsing shaft. The most arousing aspect about this was how he was fucking you with minimal effort - with no kissing or intimate touching. Just pure unadulterated fucking.
In the small frame in which your mind allows you the chance to think, you understand the implications behind his earlier words. The man would not allow you to cum until he felt as though you'd learned your lesson. Until he felt like you were disciplined enough. In other words, he doesn't owe you an orgasm, you're meant to earn it. For you, being able to cum is absolutely more critical. It especially makes it difficult to achieve when John is deliberately preventing that from happening while he's focused on battering your sweet spot with his engorged manhood.
You can't take him prolonging, then stopping the pleasure as he saw fit.
Your body is literally thrown into chaos. You can't even speak, don't even have the capacity to scream. All you can do is grit your teeth and endure. Your entire body is trembling with need. It felt so amazing, you never wanted it to stop. But John didn't see it that way. Before you know it, you're on the onset of another impending orgasm.
John pulls out once more.
The pain of being denied again spreads throughout your entire aching, wanting frame. And you decide right then that it's the worst kind of torture you've ever experienced. The worst kind you ever want to feel. Just how long did he plan to draw this out?
"Please...please. I can't!" You cried out, tears starting to leak from your eyes. "I won't do it again!"
"I know." He murmured.
The twinge of your arms being restrained is starting to become too much for you. You needed him to end it and soon.
With your arms starting to lose feeling, you closed your fists tight as a miniscule way of maintaining your composure. Though he probably took it as you fighting against him, which in a sense, you were. Who wouldn't fight when someone is literally getting their cervix pounded. John is quite literally bouncing you off his hips while holding you securely in place. Soon after, a rushing wave that was your climax started to approach again. You're so ready to explode.
You've been forced into a plane of sexual surrender, hanging over the edge ready to leap off. There's no rationale, no thoughts. The long-awaited orgasm rushed over you in overlapping waves. You can't tell when it ended and another one began. They just kept coming in rapid succession, pleasure ripping through you with brutal intensity.
Your mouth fell open in a silent scream.
John persisted in the thrusts until he finally unloaded deep inside of you, spilling his hot, sticky essence into your eager womb. A low muffled noise that sounded like a release of breath followed soon after. The weight of his body becomes heavier and with the withdrawal of his fingers and manhood, you feel a distinct emptiness.
Lingering sensations still have you feeling disoriented and it takes a minute for you to be capable of forming coherent thoughts.
Titling your head at an angle, John's handsome visage comes into view for the first time since the steamy session began. You're dazed but you have no issue making it out. His tongue slides into your slightly parted mouth, salaciously penetrating the hot cavern with smothering passion. It seemed he could not deny himself the privilege of tasting you no longer. If you had to put the kiss into words, John quite literally made love to your mouth. He didn't mind the teary face and droopy eyes.
Following a brief kissing session, he finally allows your body to lay flat on the carpet. Still, in the recovery stage, you don't even entertain the thought of moving an inch. Tired isn't even the right word to describe how you feel. A bout of sex like that can't be anything but energy sapping. And unfortunately you can't do anything but wait for the endorphins to settle down into a manageable state.
John studies your face indecipherably, moving the tousled hair out of your eyes and face. "Are you okay?"
In all honesty, you want to laugh aloud.
The nerve of him to ask that after he just fucked the life out of you. Like you hadn't just done some of the nastiest, dirtiest things he could do to your body. Contradictorily, it's so like him to revert back into the sweetest, most attentive man you've ever had the pleasure of knowing. You can't complain.
You don't even have to look in a mirror to know that your eyes are glazed over, focused and seeing nothing. You can't find the words to answer him so you settle for a listless nod of the head, your eyes sliding closed once more.
You were much too out of it to focus on what he was doing. The idea of falling asleep sounded so good right about now.
Translation: Te, kto poslushny, poluchat nagradu. - "Those who are obedient will reap the rewards."
Net - "No."
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