Friday

by Dice


Friday, blissful Friday with the weekend like a mirage only a day away. It always heightened my spirits and now when the streets were bright with snow and Christmas lights in the windows I couldn't feel more at peace.

A last dab of eye shadow and a pill for that blasted headache that always snuck up on me in the mornings. I checked the time; ten to seven, perfect! My estimate never failed, right on schedule. I'm the queen of good timing.

"I'm leaving," I said, blowing him a quick kiss through the bedroom door, where he lay propped up on pillows, like an emperor, watching the morning news - damned be his flexible hours.

"You'll miss your bus," the emperor told the queen of good timing, without looking up.

"No, I won't," I objected calmly, rolling my eyes, how dared he questioning my estimating skills, I'd been catching this bus since time before time!

Jacket, scarf, boots and woolen cap pulled low over my ears. The snow lay ankle deep and it was just below zero, not quite enough for those lovely puffs of breath, that made me feel tingly with life.

He got out of bed to lock the door behind me, sighing at my lack of haste, rush or speed. He'll give himself an ulcer with all that stressing, of course, ulcers aren't caused by stress, but whatever.

"Bye," I said.

"You'll have to run," he stated - serenity now!

"No I won't!" I snapped, I never need to run, you always think I will, but it hasn't happened once in the last five years so why would today be any different? I didn't say all that, but I was sure my glare said enough.

"Watch your mouth!" he ordered, not liking my tone.

"I'll watch mine, when you shut yours!" I retorted waspishly, "Now let me leave, before I do miss my fucking bus!" I slammed the door in his face and walked angrily up the street to the path leading to the bus stop.

Oh boy, damn but I'd bought myself a nasty surprise tonight with that departure, I'd bet my life on it. Stupid. Why did he insist that he knew how long it would take me to walk from our house to the bus stop better than I do, when he never took bus?

Besides this early there was barely fifteen minutes between the busses, if I missed this one, taking the next one would mean I was at most five minutes late for work, which wouldn't make any difference! I might not have flexible hours, but I did have flexible colleagues!

I'd stood roughly two minutes at the bus stop when the bus came around the bend. I sneered smugly to myself as I got on, taking my cell phone out. Though I knew I was flirting with disaster I sent away a defiant SMS: 'On bus. Had to wait. Did not run! :p'

There was no response. His was probably still shut off.

I put on my head phones and switched to Enya, drowning out the chattering of the middle aged women behind me.

Monica's butthole is fuck good, the back of the seat in front of me proclaimed in black magic marker. Good for Monica. That's public transportation for you, always first with the really important local news. That was terrible grammar actually... It should be fucking good, or... ok, I'm seriously occupationally injured - correcting the grammar of graffiti!

I leaned my head on the window and looked out at the snow covered trees drifting by, after a moment I was asleep.

"No! You don't hit! I don't care if Sarah called you a fag, which she shouldn't, but you do not hit her!" I looked straight into his eyes, he knew I meant it.

"She started it!" he shouted.

"I heard what she said, but you do not hit her, what do you do?" I asked, gentler, allowing him to show me he knew what's right.

"I tell her to stop..." he mumbled, rolling his eyes. "But I did! And she wouldn't!"

"Then you tell me, or Ann-Britt, understand?" he sighed, deeply, crossly, but compliant and nodded. "Good, you should say you're sorry."

Well he might have said he was sorry, if Sarah hadn't run and hid somewhere, knowing she was in for a talking to. I'd catch her later, the brat.

"Therese, I think you got a message, your bag buzzed," Ann-Britt smiled, coming back from her break.

Yes, indeed, a message. Kristoffer of course. For a moment my heart stopped. Writing that cheeky little message seemed like not such a good idea now. I went into the bathroom and checked it, feeling as if my colleagues could see right through me.

'Wine tonight? What kind?'

That was it? What the fuck? I was almost disappointed. I'd been having flashes and pangs of anxious fantasies all morning and he wanted to know what kind of wine I'd like for dinner?

'the red label' I replied. I would not try to spell the name of that over the phone!

I more or less fell through the door into his waiting arms. Fridays were hell, kids never did anything you told them on Fridays. I'd missed my bus stop on the way home because I'd been sleeping. The snow came down in great big bulks and I was cold, wet, tired and every muscle in my body screamed!

He pulled off my jacket, my scarf and cap, and hung them up, he caught me as I wilted against the wall and kissed my forehead. A familiar scent triggered my senses and my stomach made a loud growling noise.

"You made dinner?" he smiled and nodded. What had I done to deserve this man?

"Yeah, it's your favourite, with a twist" he said, smiling enigmatically. "Go change, and blow your hair dry, I have to get the rice."

It was delicious. Chicken in creamy sauce with chili and something else that I didn't quite recognise. He asked me about my day, listened attentively as I described what Friday was like with six year old monsters. I had another slice of chicken.

"What did you put in it, it's wonderful!" I told him.

"Oh, this and that - guess!" he grinned at me.

I put a piece in my mouth and chewed slowly, trying to sense what that specific, familiar taste was... and then the penny dropped.

I swallowed. I'd gone pale and I knew it, I could see it in his eyes. He wouldn't!

"It's... ginger?" his lip curled a little wickedly and he gave a nod, affirming my guess. What had I done to deserve this man? "You're not... are you?"

"What, dear?" he said gently. He was a bastard. A cruel, evil, wicked... I couldn't eat another bite, my fork sank down on the plate.

My buttocks was clenching in fear and I felt warm and cold at the same time, the mere thought was making me wet and aroused, but fearful - of course that was usually two sides of the same coin for me. What was he planning? Well I knew what he was planning, but when and how?

He continued eating his dinner pretending he didn't know the flood of emotions he'd started and the lust and fear tearing inside me.

"You just said you liked it, what's the matter?" he asked innocently.

"What are you going to do?" I whispered, voice catching in my throat. He looked at me, quite serious.

"You'll see."

Oh god.

I bit my lip and deliberated pressing him, but he wouldn't tell me anyway; keeping me in suspense was part of the thrill for him, seeing me suffer from the waiting, knowing how I made up scenarios in my head.

I lifted the glass to my lips with a trembling hand and sipped slowly, swallowing my fear with the wine. He would decide, it was out of my hands, I didn't have to make the choice - I had made it, long ago, when we met, now the choice was his.

The tension in the room was palpable as we cleared the table and tidied up the kitchen. I rinsed the plates and stacked the dish washer. My face felt flushed and it was hardly from the wine. He brushed against me as he reached for the leftovers, his breath on my neck and I shuddered.

I shut the dishwasher and even as I turned around I felt him move in. He trapped me against the counter, locking my hands behind my back in his firm grip and forcing me to lean backwards, my head brushing against the cabinet behind me. Our eyes locked.

"Scared?" he asked huskily.

"Mmhm," I confirmed, my throat tightening almost painfully.

"Let's go!"

He steered me into the bedroom, with my hands still restrained behind my back. As we neared the bed I dug my heels in, I could not go through with this. I couldn't let him do this. It would hurt! My chest quivered.

I fought back when he tried to push me down on the bed and he pulled me close against him. He held me tightly, my back pressed hard against his chest and spoke into my hair.

"Take it easy, you're not going anywhere," I could hear the smile in his voice.

"I don't want to!" I whined, it was only half the truth of course.

"Mmhm, give me a reason not to spank you," he murmured gently and my knees buckled. He knew what that word would do to me, it wasn't fair using my weakness against me like that.

Of course if he choose to stop now... but he wouldn't, he never did, or at least not as long as we were both still in on the game and it had been a long time since I refused to play along, I wasn't frightened in that way anymore, I knew him now, trusted him.

"Don't you love me?" I wriggled in his grasp.

"Of course I do, like toothache in the middle of the night," he laughed and I elbowed him in the stomach.

"You're such a prick!" I complained faking outrage.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, darling, you're in for it tonight, all the way," he kissed my neck and his warm breath on my neck sent shivers all the way down my legs. "I'll have you begging and crying before I'm through, sweetheart, no holds barred."

Oh, but get on with it! Don't just talk about it! My body was tingling with need, but my mind was reeling with fear, I choke on it, tears filling my eyes.

"Just get it over with you bastard!" I hissed.

"As my love commands," he mocked and then spun me around, kissing me hard. "Take off your clothes!" his tone shifted from amused to deadly serious in a heartbeat and all the possibility of grumbling about it was gone, the game was his now.

"Yes, sir," I answered meekly.

I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down, slowly. I felt my hands trembling and I made a conscious effort to stop them, but they didn't. We'd known each other for seven years, I usually had no qualms about being naked in front of him, I'd flaunt my body to arouse him, or when simply coming out of the shower, but when he was looking at me like he was now, eyes cold and demanding, I became as shy as the first time I undressed in front of a boy at fifteen.

Throwing the jeans over a chair I pulled my panties up a little as if that would preserve my modesty in the least. My hands froze on the hem of my shirt and I glanced up at him. He raised one eyebrow expectantly. I took a deep breath and pulled it off.

Turning slightly away from him, I undid my bra and let it slip down my arms while he watched me. I left my panties on, mostly for the rush it would give me if he told me to remove them... or pulled them down.

"Think you're done?" he said when I hadn't moved for a while.

"No," I said with a small defiant edge.

He said nothing, just stepped up and smacked my thigh, right below my cheek, so hard it took my breath away, my eyes stung with tears as much my skin. I whimpered, biting my lip, expecting more.

"Take them off!" he snapped and I went weak at the knees again.

I shook my head.

Another smack, on my other thigh. Why didn't he just pull them down? He knew I loved that! I shook my head again, faster, my eyes watered and I had to blink to fight them off.

"Fine," his voice grew deceptively soft. "Have it your way, angel. Bend over the bed! And don't move!"

I bent forward. My thighs were smarting from the swats and my panties were soaking wet. I couldn't wait to get them off, but waiting for him to do it was just so much more intense than giving in and just taking them off myself.

"Stay there, I'll be right back..." he whispered in my ear.

Oh shit! I'd totally forgotten his little surprise. I flew upright again, nearly knocking my head in his chin. He pushed me back down and held me down. I struggled a little, knowing now was not the time for it, he would only get more relentless.

"Please, don't do this! You know I hate it..."

"I know you say you do," he kissed my cheek. "Be a good girl now, stay put."

I buried my face in the sheets. It's ironic how you can love the idea of something, but then having it actually done to you will scare you out of your wits. I was shaking where I lay and the tears were gushing before he came back.

He lay down next to me, propped up on his elbow and he stroke my hair away from my face and neck until he could see me. Then he carried on rubbing the nape of my neck for a while.

"I don't know why you carry on like I'm about to stick a knife in you, I wouldn't do this if I didn't know how much you enjoy it afterwards," he said in that reasonable tone I just can't stand. Fucking know-it-all!

"That's not now!" I protested between sobs.

"C'mere," he said and pulled me up and close to him, giving me a long, tight hug and a few playful kisses, one straight on my ear, which made me shriek.

Then he sat up and pushed me over his knee, tugging my lower body so my hip was resting against his stomach. He held me very still. My heart was pounding and the sobs became quick, nervous pants as much from excitement as alarm.

He pulled my panties higher up rather than off at that point and then stroke my left cheek with his firm, warm hand. It connected to my butt with a loud crack and I jumped forward, grabbing the bedpost to pull myself away from the pain, but he just held me tighter and laughed softly.

Deliberate, hard swats warmed every inch of my bottom. He kept it up tirelessly, this was nothing to him, he was just fooling around and I knew he did it because he knew how lost in the sensation I became. I'd completely forget how frightened I was of the real punishment coming when he spanked me over his knee, a secure grip around my waist and his hand falling calmly, steadily on my skin, making me squirm and kick with each painful smack.

I was utterly into it and that heady feeling of losing myself in the sensation was beginning to take hold when he stopped. He rubbed my cheeks for a moment and then helped me up on my knees, while he got off the bed. I moaned a little in protest.

"It's far from over, angel, lie down," he urged me and I submitted, spanked and compliant as I was.

I rested on my side, watching him pick the ginger root from the glass of cold water, I felt a shiver run through me like someone poured ice into my veins, but I stayed still, waiting, trembling.

My hand trailed the inside of my thigh caressing the outside of my panties, tracing the lace around the leg up to my hip and then I carefully fingered the hot, tender skin of my backside and bit my lip, it was already sore to the touch.

He removed my hand, kissing my fingertips, I swallowed and couldn't take my eyes off the damn root in his hand. Then he let me go and placed his free hand on my hip, turning me forward. I tensed up, my skin was tender and his grip as his fingers dug into my cheek was anything but sensitive to my woe. At last he began to pull my panties down, taking his time and savouring the moment.

When I was completely naked he parted my cheeks and I squirmed uncomfortably, then the cold root was pushed against my rectum and I stiffened, a shudder going through me. First there was nothing but the feeling of something hard entering me as he pushed it in, but then it started stinging.

For a moment I thought it wasn't so bad, not at all unbearable, just a tad unpleasant, but much too soon it began to burn. I writhed on the bed, it was quickly becoming more than I could handle and I made a keening noise in objection.

"Take it out! Take it out! Please! It hurts!" I wailed, squirming and wriggling as the ginger worked its magic.

"Oh no," he shook his head, watching me with a look I could only call fascinated.

When I reached back to get it out myself he was on top of me in a second, pinning my hands to my sides. Lying on my back was not the best thing for me at the moment I quickly decided and I couldn't help but bucking to get my butt off the sheets. Of course when I did I clenched my buttocks and each time I did the pain increased tenfold, making me cry out in anguish.

He looked at me, in my misery, trying to keep from grinning down at me. I hated his guts. I closed my eyes and whimpered loudly.

"Want me to whip you?" he whispered in my ear, his breath tickling my neck. I whimpered even louder, but biting my lip I nodded ferociously, knowing it was the only thing that would make the burning in my anus even remotely bearable. "Turn over!"

I obeyed, glad to feel the cool air on my hot bottom. He removed his belt, casually as if he was changing his trousers, but then he doubled it up with a snap that made me jump every time. He did grin at that.

He snapped it against my butt with a practiced hand and I cried out, the pain blew away the persistent burn from the ginger, but only for a moment. The mixture of the quick sharp sting from the belt as he whipped me and the searing sensation inside me was driving me absolutely crazy. I was shaking and sweating and pounding my fists against the sheets. As I couldn't clench my cheeks when the belt hit without the ginger causing me even more discomfort I had to focus on not doing so, which left me unable to relax and sink into subspace. It meant taking in every stroke, feeling all the pain as clearly as if each stroke was the first.

Then he stooped over me, kissing my back and scattering gentle kisses on my bottom; his breath felt almost cold against my scorching skin and I hissed.

He parted my legs and knelt between them, his belt still in his hand as he stretched out over me, grabbing my arm, the leather chafing against my wrist. He brushed his fingertips against my clitoris, causing my body spasm and making me groan at the burn of the ginger. He slowly opened me up to then sink his hard dick into me.

He had barely begun to withdraw again, when I simply exploded, I came, seeing stars. I'd usually come in silence, making Kristoffer doubt I ever came at all, but this time I cried out unable to control it. I shook all over, tossing like I was possessed. For a second I think I almost passed out.

It took him awhile longer to finish and he took his time, letting me suffer the burn of the ginger all the while as he fucked me in hard even strokes. I bit the pillow, languishing in the aftershocks of the most powerful orgasm I'd had since - well forever probably.

He slumped over me, squishing me against the covers, and then rolled off me with a sigh and a small laugh. His hands trailed my sweaty back and untangled some strands of hair from my neck and face.

"Take it out now, or I'll bite you!" I hissed, my voice hoarse and breathy, his eyes twinkled and he kissed my temple.

"All right, all right," he carefully pulled the ginger out of me and I bucked as he did, whimpering. "It's out, angel, all over," he cooed softly and I nodded into the pillow; the burn was not lessening in the slightest.

"I feel like I'm on fire back there!" I groaned.

"I'll put it out for you then, sweetheart, ok?" he kissed my head and then got up to throw away the ginger.

I heard him wash his hands and then move around in the living room. He came back with something hidden behind his back. I stiffened and rose slightly.

"Lie down!" he demanded and I whined a little pouting up at him. "Lie down," he said again, not taken in by the pout at all.

I lay down and tried to keep an eye on him as he sat down, but he turned his back towards me and leaned over me.

His hand as he caressed me was cool and soothing on my bottom. Then a drop fell between my cheeks and I shrieked at the shock of snow being pushed into my anus.

"Ah! You bastard!" I yelled outraged and he burst out laughing.

"You were asking for it, whining like that!" he protested, chuckling obviously extremely pleased with himself.

I spun around and we wrestled on the bed, he pressed cold wet snow against my body and I threw it back at him. We were both laughing and shrieking, finally collapsing in each others arms in the centre of the bed.

"You're horrible and evil and Santa isn't bringing you any presents!" I sniggered in between gasping for breath.

"Doesn't matter... I've got you," he said and buried his face in my neck.

"That's so corny!!" I slapped his shoulder, but my heart clenched.

I hugged him tight and we lay there quiet, just holding each other and though I'd be feeling this night for days, for now the tears and pain were forgotten and all that remained was a warm feeling of pleasure and contentment.

"What did I ever do deserve you?" I whispered.

"Karmic retribution, you were probably a man eating lioness in your last life..." I shoved him in pretended indignation, he rolled us both over and pinned me beneath him, kissing my mouth and face, then he looked at me. "Question is what I did to deserve you, I must've saved the world at the very least..."

I wriggled until I could place my arms around him and pulled myself up, hiding my face in the side of his neck.

"I love you," I mumbled, tears suddenly spilling out again.

"Me too, you know I do, right?" he asked, a slightly worried note to his voice. He pulled up so that he could watch my face and then he kissed me. "I love you so very much, you know that, you do know that?"

"Would I put up with your wicked ways if I didn't know that?" I sniffled, trying to swallow the tears. "I think I need a drink..."

"Yeah, let's shower first... and change the sheets," he laughed.

We got up and he started pulling the wet, tangled sheets off the bed. Seeing him bent forward, muscular buttocks sticking out, I couldn't resist the urge to reach out and smack him. Then I ran out with him chasing me, giving up a roar in sheer outrage - who said he had all the smacking right in this household? Well, we'd probably discuss that when he caught me.

~ Dice

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