The Contract (5 page)

I began to breath harder with rage.  This fuckhead was criticizing my blowjobs?  The blowjobs I sure as hell hadn’t had to give?  And that—goddamn it—I’d done my best at?  I thought I was vibrating with anger until he reached between us for his phone.  “This had better be important,” he snapped.

He listened, moving me off his lap and walking off into another part of the Madison Square-sized apartment.  I walked towards the kitchen, stopping when I noticed that at some point that day, the window had been repaired.  An evil thought came to mind, and I looked around, my eye falling on the stone coffee table.  Oh yeah.  This was gonna be good.

I picked up the cube that weighed about a ton and staggered over to the window.  I took a couple deep breaths and again gave it my Olympic toss, turning in a half circle and letting go.

I missed my intended window entirely but destroyed the one next to it.  The table was stuck half in the window, which was pebbled and breaking more and more as the wind blew in.  Wow.  My shoulder hurt from the throw but it was so, so worth it.

I figured I’d better get the table back into the apartment before it fell out, landed on someone and killed him, so I stepped through the pebbled glass to gingerly pull on the table.

“Stop!”

I stopped.  I’d never heard Cray sound like that.  In fact I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone sound like that.

“Don’t you fucking move.”

“I was trying to get the table—”

Cray was right behind me now, shoes crunching on the glass.  “Don’t talk; don’t move; and maybe I won’t throw you out this window.”

I was almost positive he was delivering an empty threat.  He wouldn’t kill me, of course not.  But just in case I was wrong about that, I waited quietly while he took the table and put it back where it had been.  It didn’t seem to have suffered any damage.  It was starting to rain and sheets of it blew in on me.  A sharp jerk on my arm nearly pulled me off my feet.  He dragged me into the bedroom and began to pull my clothes off.

“Um, I can…”

He pulled me around until we were face to face.  “I am telling you for the last time—shut up.  Another word out of you—just one—and I’ll gag you.”

I let him pull my clothes off, watching him warily.

He paced back and forth in the bedroom and then left the room.

I stood there shivering for a minute wondering why the extreme reaction.  The last window I almost broke and he didn’t even seem to care.  I finally sat on the bed, using part of the comforter to pull around me like a robe. 

Then he came back, and the air in the room seemed to spark with his anger.

He strode to me and sat down next to me.  He grabbed the comforter out of my hands and pulled me over his lap, face down.  Tardily, understanding arrived and I began to struggle, “Oh, no, no way am I getting a spanking like a three year old.”

Cray kept me where I was but pulled a gag with a soft bite out of the bedside table.  “Put it on yourself,” he said in that same scary voice.

“On myself?”  My question ended with a yip as he hit me on the bottom—hard. 

Cray leaned over me and threatened, “There could be more, little bitch.  I still have several pills.”

I put on the gag.  I could make sounds, just nothing intelligible.

Cray began to spank me.  The first part was the worst—the most shocking, and the most painful.  He was mad and he was expending that anger on me.  Finally, his pace slowed a little and became more deliberate.  “You are the most frustrating woman I’ve ever met.  You never think more than two seconds ahead, and then do childish things to get back at me because I went to talk on the phone and didn’t give you attention.”

I made a protest at that, but with the gag, he didn’t get it.

“We’re 75 stories up you idiot!  You can’t just open a window and peek out.  Especially with that wind—you could have died!”  Now the blows became harder again, and I gave up on listening and just apologized non-stop through the gag, tears dripping everywhere.  After something that seemed like years, he stopped.  I was still shuddering and crying.  He moved the arm holding me down and I slid to the floor, panting.  I pulled off the gag and unsteadily rose to my feet to go and get a Kleenex from the bathroom.  I turned on the water and washed my face—which looked pretty awful.  Finally, I turned half way around so I could see the condition of my ass—wow.  It was deep red and had welty parts on it.  Oh yeah and it hurt like hell.  Like I’d accidently sat on the sun.

Cray was gone.  I put on a big t-shirt and went to look for him.  I finally followed lights to some previously unknown room—maybe an office.  “Cray?”  My voice was tentative.

He turned to look at me, his face still stern.  I walked over slowly, watching him carefully.  Once I reached him I carefully slid my arms around his waist and let my head rest against his chest.  Maybe he though I’d throw myself the 75 stories down. I’d really upset him and that had never been my intention.  “I’m sorry.  Cray, I’m sorry.”

He did nothing for a minute, and I was afraid he just wouldn’t respond, but then his arms came around me as well.  After another couple of minutes, I looked up at him, hoping the fierce expression had eased some.  He tilted his head and kissed me.  This seemed to ignite a spark in both of us.  He shoved me to the desk then lifted me to sit on it.  I moaned in pain as my abused rear made contact with the desk.  Cray reached down and squeezed one cheek of my ass and I arched and moaned. 

We somehow ended up on the carpet, and I knew he’d chosen that over anything else.  When Cray taught a lesson, he certainly was thorough about it.  There wasn’t a lot of foreplay—neither of us needing it, but Cray took his time—going slow making my ass rub against the scratchy carpet, then fast—which probably would have given me rug burns even if I hadn’t been thoroughly spanked first, as it was the pain was at least as bad as the spanking itself, and mixed in with getting fucked—it threw me into an orgasm like I’ve never had before.  I screamed, and then shrieked again when another one followed it.  That set him off and shudders still ran through me.

We lay there on the carpet until I said, “Cray, can you move?  I’m a little uncomfortable here.”  He obligingly moved to the side and I did as well, taking some of the pressure off my ass.

We just looked at each other for awhile.  Finally I said, “Don’t get mad again, but it wasn’t that you left me to take a phone call.  It was that the two nights you gave me the pill you could tell I didn’t really know what I was doing.”

“So you broke another window?  Tell me how that connects.”

“It was yours.  I can’t hurt you so I hurt your stuff.”

“We need to work on your anger management.”  He yawned.

“And you beating the shit out of me?  That’s healthy?”  I sat up, hissed, then went to my knees.

“Works okay for me.”

We went back to the main bedroom where Cray and I took a shower, with him patting my sore butt every chance he got.  I was actually giggling when we got into bed.  It was a couple minutes before I asked into the dark, “Did you like it?  Spanking me?”

It was so quiet that I thought he must already be asleep.  “Yes,” he said.  “A damn site more than you did, I bet.”

“
It wasn’t all that bad.”  I turned on my other side—no back sleeping tonight, and felt him kiss my temple.

Chapter Six

The next day Cray was off doing that domination thing.  Come to think of it—he usually did the domination thing here too.  Anyway, there was no edict about going naked so I bit the bullet and did laundry and wore my jeans.  Marleen came, and I helped her a little until I got hungry, then made the both of us fluffernutters—also known as peanut butter and marshmallow cream sandwiches.  Marlene was pleased so I didn’t feel too bad letting her clean the stadium-sized apartment.  If it were up to me we could get rid of all the rooms except the TV room and the kitchen.  We could especially get rid of the exercise room.

Knowing I was risking another beating, I called Lance and had him come up to help me loosen up enough so I wouldn’t walk like a zombie at the party tonight.  He had some cream to put on my still sore ass that really helped.  Turns out Lance had done the spanking thing too.  I asked him if he wanted to have lunch tomorrow.  Hell, I needed some kind of guidebook.

The rest of the day was party prep and before I knew it we were at the Sinclaire’s door.  A handsome man in his mid fifties and his trophy wife May (she was my age, and her IQ was somewhere around that of a canary’s.)  Before Cray could even introduce me May squealed and said, “Lissa!  OMG!” She actually said the letters o-m-g.  “Everyone’s been looking for you!”  As she said this she tried to throw herself onto me, but I moved smoothly back and ended up just patting her shoulders. 

“Lovely to see you again, May.”  I turned to the older Sinclaire, who kept on amicable relations with his first wife “for the animals.”  “Good to see you, Edward.  Had the chance to go sailing much?”  Sailing was his passion, and he lit up like a Christmas tree. 

We had to move on so they could greet more guests, but Cray asked, “How did you know he liked to sail?”

“Cray, I know all sorts of things because I listen and remember.”

“I haven’t seen much evidence of that.”

I ignored that as another man came up and greeted Cray tentatively as if Cray might explode.  Since Cray didn’t introduce me, I put out my hand.  “I’m sure your face is familiar.  Are you on TV?”

The man chuckled and said he had been on some animal programs.  Turns out the guy went out and lived with the whales.  I was actually interested and a little annoyed when Cray pulled me away.

“Are you going to do that to everyone?” he asked.

“What, be pleasant?  Charming possibly?  That was my plan, yes.”

Cray put out his hands as if showing he had nothing.  “Then I’ll just watch you work.”

So I did.

I picked out both TV news celebrities and reminded them of an amusing program where everything went wrong.  After our laughter died down I introduced Cray, whom they knew but were afraid to talk to, and by the end they were telling him to call them.  I felt absurdly proud, wishing I could say, She shoots; she scores!

It was going well until I ran into Brittany.  I turned from schmoozing someone and there she was.  “Well, well, well,” she said in her overly cultured voice.  “If it isn’t the socialite gone whore.”

I froze.  “Brittany Burnnell.” I didn’t think anyone knew about my arrangement with Cray.  Was Cray telling everyone?

“What did you have to do for that dress, oral or anal?”

I was without one word to say.  I kept thinking this was like one of those dreams where you’re late to the test, and then you get there, and the test is in another language and you’ve forgotten to wear pants…Just like that.

Cray said in a voice even more bored than Brittany’s, “You want to watch what you say to and about my Alyssa.  Your father has a lot of stock in ChemCorp, and that misrun excuse for a company is ripe for a hostile takeover.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about!” Brittany snapped, but she sounded worried.

“Rich people can be made to be poor people.  I’ve done it before, many times.  Haven’t you noticed that people are afraid to talk to me because they might offend me?  You have offended me.  Might want to call Daddy and tell him to hold off on that new Benz he was getting.”

The circle of people around us was absolutely silent.  Cray put his hand at my back and urged me towards the door.  Halfway there I balked, turning to him.  “If we’re going for a good image we can’t leave after you threaten someone.”

Cray sighed but agreed.  He pulled me to the dance floor and amazed me by knowing all the “old fogie” dances I’d been forced to learn.  In fact, he was good.  “Cray, where did you come from?”

He just smiled.

We finished the dance and chatted with a few more people then made our escape.

In the limo I turned up the heat, still rather stunned by the Brittany ordeal.  “I could have handled it, but it was such a shock.  So, you’re um, telling people about our arrangement?”

“Um?”

“Cray, please.”

Cray said quietly, “No, I’m not telling people about our arrangement.  I don’t know if it was someone at Cray Systems who told, but believe me, I’ll find out.”

“Then ya gonna spank ‘em?” I asked with feigned innocence.

He laughed.  “No, unfortunately.”

“My ass still hurts you know, so if you want to play some more sex games I’d appreciate skipping that part.”

Cray said, “You did well tonight.  Extremely well.  Are you sure you only used charm on the teachers in college?  Nothing sexual?”

Now it was my turn to laugh.  “Charm only and hints that sexual things might be forthcoming, but they never arrived.  Don’t you remember you told me my blowjob sucked?  Pun intended.”

“No, I didn’t say that.  It wasn’t lack of skill, it was more like it was fresh for you and you were figuring it out.”

I watched out the windows for a time.  “I guess I never had anyone teach me.”

Finally I turned around and looked at him.  Cray said, “Then prepare to learn something new.”

Chapter Seven

I did learn.  And I’m proud to say I became the queen of the BJ.  I worked out with Cray every other day and started to get muscles.  Cray was most impressed with my ass, which he then talked me into (bulldozed me into) trying anal sex, which was new to me.  I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, so we ended up doing it a few more days before I decided I kind of liked it. 

They were other new things too.  Cray saw me messing with a candle—you know how you coat your finger with wax then peel it off.  His eyes lit up and he decided that for each speech mistake (and he’d added on a few more), I got one drip of the candle.

I thought that would be a picnic.  But the thing is, the first one doesn’t really hurt, nor does the second.  But then they start to sting with each one progressively more intense.  Add to that the location he decided on and it could be quite the experience.

One time I begged him to spank me instead, and he agreed, but this time he wasn’t mad, and he hit very carefully so that each strike landed exactly where he wanted it.  I became convinced that a paddle would be less painful than his hand, so I asked for that instead one night and boy-o-boy that was a painful one.  Especially since he kept playing with me, stroking me, pinching my clit, in between blows and I ended up having an orgasm during the time he was paddling me!  Thanks Cray, I am now an official deviant.