Page 70 of Steel & Thunder
“That is not what is happening here!” he shouts at the ceiling in frustration.
“Really? So you’re not still feeling bothered by everything we yelled about two days ago and are now trying to take things in the complete opposite direction?” I’m great at sounding confident when I’m pulling things out of my ass.
“No.” The single word is growled and I can see his fist clench.
“Great. Thanks for clearing that up.” I roll my eyes much harder than I need to before I turn around. “Anyway, I’m just gonna go hit up a bar or something. Catch you later.”
“You are not going out, David,” he growls and steps toward me.
“Or what? We’ve already established that you’re too afraid to touch me.” Time to lay it on thick. “Not sure I have much reason to listen to you now.”
“Do not test me, David.” The threat is growled low.
“Oh no. The things you sister told me really helped paint a full picture.” I don’t shy away as he enters my space. “You’re not actually serious about any of this.”
“Keep pushing me, and I will show you just how serious I can be.” He’s right in my face.
“Yeah?” Okay, time to go for broke. If what I say next doesn’t go over the way I want, Khazak may honestly never want to speak to me again. “You mean like how you showed me after I drugged, robbed, and humiliated you in front of your men?”
Before I even realize it, the front of my shirt is grabbed as Khazak pulls me forward.
“I know when I am being provoked, David,” he growls in my face. “If you are going to insist on acting like an insolent brat, then I will be happy to correct you like one.”
“What the hell are you—HEY!” I’m half pulled, half dragged around to the front of the couch where Khazak sits and yanks me over his lap.
“Disciplining an infant, apparently.” Khazak grabs my arms to pin them behind my back before yanking my pants down unceremoniously, just under my ass. I struggle because despite having asked for exactly what’s about to happen, I still wish it wasn’t. “This is what you wanted, is it not?”
And then he spanks me. He starts with quick, steady smacks from his hand, just warming up. Each slap of his palm stings, but I can handle it for now. He’s alternating sides, back and forth, but around twenty, things get uncomfortable. My breath starts to hitch, and I focus to keep it even.
“Honestly, David, I tell you one time that I do not want to have sex, and you throw a temper tantrum?” He speaks calmly while I’m fighting to hold back my whimpers. “Then, when that does not work, you decide to intentionally piss me off so I will punish you?”
To be fair, I didn’t know for a fact that punishment was how he’d react. Just kinda hoped. His hand is moving slower, but the blows are raining down harder. I struggle futilely, and for a moment, he stops, running his hand over the abused flesh and even kneading it slightly, which finally gets me to whimper out loud. Then his hand leaves me, and I brace myself.
“Ignoring the fact that we literally had sex this morning, ignoring everything that happened not even two days ago.” I cry out at the first blow and each one that follows. His arm isn’t even getting tired. “Did you not consider for a moment that maybe after navigating an incredibly stressful dinner this evening with my entire family, I might simply not be in the fucking mood?!”
“I’m sorry!” I cry because no, I didn’t actually consider that. Not that I get him to slow down.
“Then you bring up my sister and use what you did the night of your break in all in an attempt to make me angry?” I’m sobbing into the couch each time his hand hits me. “So I would react like this? I am once again astounded by your ability to commit to a half-baked plan.”
“Fuck, please! I’m sorry!” I’m not just saying it either. The only reason I brought up the night of the “incident” is because of how shitty I still feel about that night. I remember the way I hesitated, the way the guilt I felt grew the further I went with my plan. The way I had to push down every good feeling he gave me. Then I bring it up and throw it in his face just to get him to do what I want. He really might hate me after this.
I’m not sure when he stops exactly, before I start blubbering or after. I remember crying into the couch, another “I’m sorry” on my lips. Then I’m gathered up, turned and made to straddle his lap, my head brought to his chest. Instinctively, I squeeze myself into the crook of his neck, his chin resting atop my head. One arm is around my neck and the other thrown over my waist, the hand stroking small circles onto the sweaty skin of my back.
As I come down from the endorphin high, I feel his chest hair poking out from his shirt, tickling my face as I mumble another apology against his skin. I can feel his rounder stomach against my flat one, my legs on either side of his meaty thighs. Once my heart is no longer pounding in my ears, I can hear him mumbling something above me, needing to focus to make it out.
“...Good boy.” It’s said so softly I’m almost not sure I’m hearing it. I press forward again, almost dozing in and out as the warm darkness envelops me.
“That hurt,” I croak out once I find my words again.
“You took it very well,” is the response. Then there is a hand on the back of my shirt collar, pulling us apart so that I can look him in the eye. “I do not like being manipulated, David.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat for the umpteenth time. If my face could get any redder, it would. “I was only trying to—”
“I know.” He strokes the side of my face. “I can appreciate that you wanted to get me out of a perceived rut, but this is not going to work if we do not communicate.”
“Not just that.” I shake my head a little. “I’m sorry for all of it. All the times I’ve insulted you or acted like an ass, for everything I did to you that night. I’m just so sorry.”
“The purpose of punishment is to give you the opportunity to be forgiven for your infractions, and to allow for both of us to move on.” He’s still stroking my back as he pulls me back into his chest. “Think of it as absolution for your sins. A blank slate is the expression, I think.”
