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Make Me Beg	By : ElizabethAshbury Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Korn Views: 2756 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Korn. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Make Me Beg
- 1
Make Me Beg

I say good-bye to my friends and family before I get ready to leave the art gallery. I read the copy of the email from Jonathan Davis again. It had been secretly in my purse all night. I can’t believe he likes my work and is interested in it! He says he would like to meet with me. I emailed him back several times, but he never answered. I’m beginning to wonder if someone is playing a bad joke on me. That would be my luck! Oh, well, the people I love the most were there tonight, that’s what matters to me. I leave the building and walk towards my car, a bit uneasy about walking alone at night. I know I shouldn’t. I hit the remote and unlock my car so I can get in swiftly. I try to walk quickly in my high-heeled, knee high boots. I’m wearing a dress too, something I only do for very special occasions. It’s a gray black, right above knee-length dress, short-sleeved with a collar; it has snap-buttons all the way down. I have the top four buttons undone, showing some cleavage. As I start to open the door, I hear something. I slowly turn my head, terrified, but trying not to show it, ready to give my famous “I’ll kick your ass” look to whoever it is. First I see a talairlairly young man with a medium build, long hair, dread locks in fact and he’s wearing everyday, casual-as-can-be clothes, jeans and black T-Shirt. I start to scream obscenities to appear tough, I start to open my mouth, and then he walks towards me, shedding some light on his face. I see those distinguishing, trademark glasses, his sincere brown, puppy eyes, and a scruffy goatee.

“I didn’t scare you did I?”

“Hm!” I smirk, then roll my eyes, who am I kidding? “Okay, yes. But I recognized you pretty quickly. You’re lucky I didn’t kick you where it hurts!” I point my finger at him in my teacher-like manner, smiling, near laughing.

“I’m really sorry; I wanted to meet you after the crowd died down.”

“Well the place don’t get any deader,” I say in my best southern accent, smiling smugly at him. “I was wondering when I would hear from you. I emailed you back.”

“Yeah, I’m really sorry…”

“Don’t feel bad, I know you’re busy.”

“Still though, I’m sorry. You’re not mad?”

“No,” I say with a sigh, “I was just getting a little worried…I was beginning to think my friends were playing a cruel joke.”

“No, it was really me.”

“I’m glad.” I smile. “Well, I need to eat. That finger-sandwich and fruit shit doesn’t cut it.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Don’t really care. Anywhere that has food that will stay in my stomach for a while. I want to take my car home first, though. Want to follow me?”

“, le, let’s go.”

We arrive at my house and I hop in the car with him, sketch book and photos of my work in hand. Again he asks me where to go.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I whine.

“Let’s just go to my hotel and get room service, you look really tired.”

I’m not too sure about that, but I agree. “Umm, okay.” I don’t want him to think I’m just trying to get into his pants, even though I wouldn’t mind. Honestly, I’m just happy to meet him; even better, he likes my work, which means a lot more. He tells the driver to go there.

“Why did you say it like that? I don’t bite… wait a minute…yes I do!” He laughs pretty hard at himself.

I shake my head, trying not to let on that I’m falling for his goofy charm. This is a good time for me to talk about my work now. I hand him the book and photos. He points out his favorites, even tells me that he would like a few of my sketches.

“Oh those are SO crappy!” I say.

“No,” he shakes his head. “You obviously don’t see what I see. I’m seeing how your mind works in these sketches.”

“Yeah, my A.D.D. brain.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” He looks at me.

“I know. I actually see it as a gift at times.”

“It can be. So is that something you know for sure, that you’re A.D.D.?”

“Yeah, my parents found out in first grade, although I didn’t know until I was in sixth grade. I didn’t know why I was being put on medication again. I just knew that I couldn’t focus, as hard as I tried. I still can’t, that’s among many of the problems it gives me. I can’t organize for shit either.” I run my fingers through my short, brown-black hair; it’s longer in the front, falling around my face, hanging about two inches below my chin. The back is short and layered. It’s straight, as usual.

“Are you still on medication?”

“No, and I don’t want to be.”

He nods, understanding. “I like your hair.” He senses I don’t want to discuss my “disorder” further.

“Thanks. My best friend is my hairdresser.” I smile.

“That must be nice!”

“It is.”

We arrivethe the beautiful hotel. I follow him to his room, gawking at the place the whole time, in complete awe. We get in the room that looks more like a nice apartment.

“Get comfortable,” he says, going to the phone to order room service. “What would you like?”

“Surprise me.”

We talk more about which pieces of art he likes and he even asks me if I could do anything new for him. I’m so excited about this idea. My artwork commissioned by Jonathan Davis!? If that won’t get my name out there, I don’t know what will! We continue to talk as we eat at a marble-top table. The conversation becomes more about ourselves, as we discuss our likes and dislikes, our families, growing up, etc. I ask him about some of the things I’ve read about him on the Internet and whether or not they are true; some are some aren’t, some are mostly true, but stretched a little. After the table is cleared by room service, except for the ice bucket, Jonathan stands up and tells me he’s going to take a shower and to make myself at home. I go sit on the couch and turn on the TV to pass some time. Nothing good is on. I can’t believe I’m here. I look around the room, out of boredom, nice room. I turn to look at the TV again and notice something on the coffee table. Is that…? It’s a fucking wooden paddle! Looks handmade, painted black with the words, “Beat it Upright” in blood red. I cover my mouth to stifle my snickering. Then I’m curious. I pick it up and look at it, wondering why he brought it with him…he came alone. But then he knew he was going to meet with me. Did he think I would just drop my panties for him? I don’t know whether to be offended or amused. I have mixed feelings of both, but I won’t be a bitch to him; I like him.

He comes out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but pants; he’s not wearing his glasses either. He looks incredibly sexy, barefoot, topless, his hair wet. I still have the paddle in my hand, but I’m not embarrassed…he DID have it on the fucking coffee table! Did he have all this planned? Surely not. But then he already knew what I looked like by my picture and he knew we kind of liked the same kind of things and had some things in common. I stand up, feigning confidence.

“What is this for?” I say in a teasing manner, smiling like a cat that ate the canary.

“Bad girls like you,” he says in the same tone, only half smiling.

I laugh. I turn to put the paddle back down on the table.

“Wanna play?” he says a little more aggressively.

I’m recovering from my laugh when he says this and I’m not sure I hear him correctly. “What?” I ask, a little surprised. Did he really say that?

“You heard me,” he says walking towards me. I step back a little but he keeps coming. He looks like he wants to violate me. “Wanna play honey?”

I stop and look him dead in the eye, acting tough. “Sure.”

“I should tell you, I get dirty…and rough. I’m a nice guy, but when I’m turned on, there’s another side to me.”

“I can sense that…I like it.”

“We’ll see.” He picks up the paddle. He’s now about six inches away from me, very much invading my personal space and because it’s him, I have no problem with it whatsoever. I’m excited, but very nervous and trying hard not to show it. I’m afraid he’ll hurt me, but in some way, I’m looking forward to it. “As long as you listen to me, you wonave ave anything to worry about.” He takes a step back, still very close to me. “Take off your dress.” He eyes me devilishly.

I want to play, “Right now?”

“Can you think of a better time?!”

“I don’t know…”

“No?! Then let me help you.” He lunges at me and pulls at the dress unsnapping the whole thing. “TAKE IT OFF!”

I obey. Luckily, I wore my prettiest underwear tonight; a black silk thong and push-up bra to match. My breasts are naturally big, and this bra really brought them out. I’m wearing black thigh-highs and my boots are still on. Jonathan walks behind the couch, over to the chairs we had sat in and takes a seat in one.

“Come stand in front of me.” He’s holding the paddle poised in front of him, tapping the end of it on his other hand. I slowly walk over to him until I am standing there in front of him. He looks me over.

“Nice tits,” he’s staring “…did you HEAR me?”

“Thanks,” I say submissively.

“Very good.”

I start to take off my bra, but am quickly corrected:

“I didn’t tell you to do that!”

“I thought maybe…”

“What did I say? LISTEN!”

“I’m sorry,” I say somewhat defensively, with some aggression.

“Don’t talk to me like that! Turn around!”

I know what happens now. I turn around. I look ahead of me.

“Put your hands on the table.” There’s nothing on the table now except a bucket of ice. I place my palms on the cool marble and prepare for the blow. He doesn’t do anything for a few seconds, just sits there and I know he’s staring at my ass; and torturing me. I start to get anxious and then…WHACK!!! I don’t scream, or cry, my jaw drops. I start to recover from the sting and then he smacks me again, harder than before, then repeatedly, harder and faster. This hurts too much! I stand up and I turn to look at him and I back away. This only fuels his passion; he grabs my wrist and pulls me on my stomach, across his lap.

“Thought you could get away, did you?!” He spanks me with his hand. “I knew you were a bad girl!”

“I’m sorry…”

“You will be!” He starts whacking me again with the paddle. This position is uncomfortable, making it hard for me to breathe. I fight back tears. Every blow feels harder than the last. I can’t take it, I start to beg.

“Please, Jonathan…I’ll behave…”

He only stops long enough to say, “I don’t believe you!” He continues flogging me.

“No…really…I’ll do what yay…”ay…”

“QUIET,” another whack. “STOP”, another one, “TALKING” another one, “BACK,” yet another. Now I can’t hold it, I start crying. He stops. He takes me by my upper arms and pulls me to stand up to look at him.

“Look at me.”

I don’t want to. But I look at him, with tears on my face.

“I told you to listen to me. You were a bad girl,” he reaches up to brush away my hair from my face, “I’ll stop if you promise you’ll be good.”

“Yes…” I say quietly.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

“YES!”

“Good girl.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Go put your knees in that chair.”

I go and sit on my knees.

“Put your elbows on the table.”

I turn the back of the chair around for leverage and rest my elbows on the table. He gets up from the chair and carries it over by me. He puts it down and stands behind me. I feel his body heat on me. He reaches forward for the ice bucket, grabs a couple ice cubes and sits down behind me. He the the ice cubes to cool down my burning butt. It feels so good, but so cold! It’s better than getting paddled, though. He treats my stinging until the cubes are completely melted. He sits back and admires my ass.

“You have a beautiful ass.”

“Thanks,” I’m not sure he wanted me to say that this time.

“You may take off your bra now.”

I’m still catching my breath. I hear him talking, but I don’t hear the words.

“Are you listening?”

“What?”

“Sit down in front of me!” He says loudly.

I sit, straddling the chair. I feel his hands unhook my bra.

“Hands behind your back.”

I quickly do as I’m told. He uses my bra to tie my hands. I’m not sure how he does it, but he has done a damn good job. I can’t figure out how to get out of it, I don’t really want to try because I might get my ass struck again. He must have seen me squirming a bit because he asks me to get up and bend over again, paddle ready.

“For what? I didn’t do anything!” I protest.

“Bullshit!” His booming voice startles me, then he says more quietly, “Now, do what I say.”

“But, Jonathan…”

“Do you want me to hold you down and make you obey?”

“But I didn’t…”

“Okay, you want to argue…” he firmly pins me down to the table with his hand on my back, in between my shoulder blades. Before I look away from him, I see him raise the paddle; I don’t really look at his face.

“Noooo!!!! PLEASE!! No!!!” I cry desperately-WHACK! Sharp pain shoots through my body. I tense up every muscle I have to brace myself for another. I try to make it through this round of spankings without crying. He waits a few seconds before sending another hard smack to my stinging skin. He pauses again before the third and then builds up with less time in between each one until the strikes are continuous again. I shut my eyes tightly and clench my teeth, trying to breathe deeply, but again, I start to cry. I hide it better this time though. He might keep doing it even more if he sees me crying. I just whimper softly. Then I start screaming loudly, not like I’ve just seen a spider, but like a tough girl.

“QUIET…or I’ll stuff your panties in your mouth!”

I start panting to stop screaming and crying as he continues. He finally stops and my body goes limp with exhaustion from the spankings, the crying, and screaming. I’m tired. My upper body collapses on the table. I’m half way crying and half panting now. The cool marble feels good. I hear the paddle hit the table. I sense Jonathan sitting down behind me. My ass is at his eyelevel.

“Come lean against me,” he sounds a little short of breath, maybe he’s tired too. I carefully get down to where I can sit in the chair, then I scoot back and lean against him. He’s sweating and he feels so warm. I turn my head and rub my cheek on his soft, hairy chest. He puts his hands in my hair and rubs my scalp with his finger tips. His hands work their way down my arms, around my waist and to my breasts. He grabs each one with both hands and gently but firmly squeezes them. I’m still sniffling a little, he finally acknowledges the fact that I’ve been crying and says so seductively:

“No more crying, sweetheart…you know you were a bad girl…thought it would be fun to talk back and mouth off, didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“It’s okay now. Sit on my lap and face me.”

I slowly get up and turn around. With my hands behind me, I have to rely on my legs and other senses of balance. Luckily, I’m in pretty good shape. I carefully move both legs to straddle him. His eyes are filled with sick, twisted lust. He’s not done with me. He’s barely started.

“That’s it,” he puts both his hands on my backside, like he’s claiming it. He smiles wider and says, “Good girl,” as he looks me up and down. He asks me if I’m cold as he zeros in on my tits again.

“Not really,” I say, trying not to show emotion at all. I’m actually very aroused. I like the power he has over me…so does he.

“Hmm…judging by your tits, I would say you were.”

“The table was cold.”

“Was it?” He says as he leans forward to lick my nipple. He grabs it with his teeth and bites down slightly, making me gasp. He laughs quietly.

“Do you think I could have the use of my hands again?”

“I don’t think you’ve earned that privilege yet, honey.” Before I can even think, I lean in and kiss him, hard. I can’t help it…looking at his soft, kissable lips…I’m afraid he may get rough again, so I’m surprised that he kisses me back. He pulls his head away and asserts his control again. He starts to help me up and stands to his feet, grabs the paddle and tells me to go lay on the bed.

“You want to flog me again?”

“You think you need it?”

“No.”

“We’ll see.” He takes me by the arm and escorts me to the bed. He tells me to lay on my back, in the middle of the bed.

“Okay, but I don’t want to lay on my hands so…” He raises the paddle at me again, threatening, he doesn’t even have to say anything. I lay on the bed, just like he tells me. He circles the bed, with the paddle behind his back, staring at me. I just lay there, looking up at him, topless and laying on my arms; the bed is pretty soft, so it’s not too uncomfortable.

“Your tits are so pretty. They’re perfect.”

“Thanks, they’re real.”

“I know.”

I’m sure you do, I think to myself. Why is he just standing around? He’s driving me crazy! That’s EXACTLY why. He paces a few more times before sitting beside me. His hand gently runs over my stomach and my thighs. He sets the paddle on the bedside table…for now, I say in my head. He sits fully on the bed, with his legs to the side. He pulls off my boots and thigh-highs, tossing them somewhere on the floor. He immediately turns his attention back to me. He rubs my knees a few times before pulling them apart. His index fingers trace along the inside of my pantyline in the front, but he’s not touching me. He pulls the crotch of my underwear aside and looks down. He rubs my clit and I want to explode. This feels so much better than being smacked on the ass nonstop. He’s moving very slowly though, to torture me, I’m sure, keeping me anticipating. I start to get into what he’s doing to me and then my arms start to bother me. I hold on as long as I can, trying tous ous on the pleasure part, finally I can’t stand it. I’ll put up with another spanking as long as it means having the use of my hands.

“Jonathan, please! My arms!”

He looks at me, enjoying my discomfort. “Do you think I should let you go?”

“YES!”

“Can you be good?”

“Yes.”

“You think you’ve earned it?” He starts pulling my panties down.

“Yes…please…” I start whining and begging. My underwear is around my knees and still going down. I don’t think he’s even listening to me.

“Want me to untie you, honey?”

“Please…” I’m completely naked now.

“Turn over.”

I’m so relieved. I flip on my front side. He pauses to touch my ass again before proceeding to free my hands.

“Thanks.” I say quietly before I start to turn on my back again.

“Stay where you are.”

I hope he’s not going to spank me again, but for some reason I don’t think he will. I relax a little, but not too much, I stay on guard some.

“Put your arms up by your head.”

I do as he tells me. It’s good to move my arms again. I feel his finger tips creep up the back of my thigh, going inward towards my crotch again. He gets closer and closer to it and when I think he’s going to touch me there again, he continues moving up my ass, then my back. I groan with disappointment, he laughs.

“Fuck you!” I tease.

“That isn’t very nice.” He lays on his side, His feet in the same direction as mine. His head is near my lower back. I can feel his breath on me. His hand brushes across my ass.

“Your ass is nice… I really got you good, didn’t I, baby?” As if he’s just now noticing how hard he pounded me!

“You think?”

“Does it still hurt?”

“No.”

“I’m sure it would if I got you again,” he teases.

“NO! Please!”

“As long as you’re a good girl, you won’t have to worry…now turn over on your back.”

I flip over again. He takes my left breast in his mouth and sucks hard. He has his hand on the other, squeezing and pinching my nipple. It hurts in a good way. I like this. I put my hands in his long, tangled, dread-locked black hair and rub his head. He moves up to kiss my neck and I manage to steal another kiss on his gorgeous lips. He returns by giving me his tongue and our tongues intertwine and lick at each other. I sit up a little and pull back to look at him. I sit with my knees up and together to see what he’ll do. He just continues to kiss me. We seem to kiss for a long time, just making out like a couple of fourteen-year-olds. He seems to be showing his sweet side again, but I’m wondering if he will keep it up for much longer before he becomes my paddle-wielding master again, or just my dominating master. He likes being in charge of my body; and I’m not objecting. I keep my knees together as we continue to kiss each other’s lips, necks and shoulders. He must know what I’m doing; he’s not saying anything and is probably just waiting to pounce again. He’s letting me think I have control, which we both know I don’t. As soon as I realize this he pulls back. He looks at me knees, then looks up at me with his eyes. When I don’t move, he grabs the back of my head and gets close to my ear:

“Open your legs.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You’ll be in big trouble again little girl. You think it hurt before…” his eyes stay fixed on me, “do what I tell you. Trust me.”

I give in. He positions his head there.

“I’ll leave you untied if you stay still for me. Keep your hands where they are.” He starts to lick slowly, right down the middle, with a firm tongue. He s kes keeping still is a real challenge for me. His tongue is warm and wet and feels amazing. I gasp quietly. He gradually builds up speed with his tongue and is soon going at it pretty violently, growling and all! I start getting pretty loud and out of pure instinct, I grab his hair with both hands. It takes a half second to realize I’ve made a huge “mistake”. He abruptly gets up and growls at me.

“I’M SORRY…I’M…” I shout with fear in my voice that is half real half play sitting up with my back straight against the headboard. I don’t REALLY know this man, how do I know what he’s really going t? I? I like the suspense though, but I won’t let him know that.

He races towards my face and puts a hand firmly around my neck. It doesn’t hurt, but it makes me nervous as hell. I can smell me on his breath, quite strongly. I must be pretty turned on.

“YOU JUST CAN’T STAND TO DO WHAT YOU’RE TOLD, CAN YOU, LITTLE GIRL?”

“I said I’m sorry! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!” I can yell too. I know what he wants.

He pulls my head forward by my neck and back against the headboard. It doesn’t hurt, he’s just asserting his dominance again.

“I’ve had about enough of your lip, girl! GET UP!” He stands beside the bed, glaring at me, “GET THE FUCK UP!!!”

I glare back and stand in front of him.

“Don’t look at me that way...” he grabs the paddle once again. I whimper involuntarily. “Bend over.”

“No, please…not again…no.”

“No?” He sits on the edge of the bed, jerks my arm and pulls me across his lap. I scream and beg and cry desperately.

“JONATHAN, NO! I’M SORRY, I’LL BEHAVE!!!! I’M SORRY!! PLEASE…I’LL SUCK YOUR COCK! PLEASE! I’LL DO ANYTHING!”

He stops dead in his tracks. He grabs my hair on the back of my head to pull me up. I’m on my knees now, looking up at him.

“What did you say?” He smiles the most evil-looking smile.

“I’ll do anything.”

“Nooo…before that.”

“I’ll suck your cock.” I answer him like a little girl who was caught saying something dirty and asked to repeat it.

He laughs. He puts my chin in his hand and rubs my cheek and lips with his thumb. I catch his thumb with my mouth and start sucking on it and playing with it with my tongue. Jonathan lays back, giving me the “go-ahead”. I unzip his pants and pull them just past his hip bone. His dick is pointing straight up to the ceiling. It looks so good that I admire it for a minute before wrapping my lips around it. I go as deep as I can and he gasps and groans. I keep going and he must be getting too excited, not wanting to finish yet, because he sits up quickly and grabs my face with both hands. He stares intensely at me for a couple seconds before letting go and telling me to lay across the bed on my stomach. I’m afraid he’ll spank me again, so I do what he says with great tension in my body. He must notice it because he laughs.

“What are you so tense about?” He puts a hand on my back. “You think I’ll hurt you?”

I relax a little. I hear his pants drop to the floor and I feel him standing behind me.
“Get your ass up high, I want to see it.”

I rise to my elbows and knees. Before I can even get comfortable in this position, he starts to enter. He shouldn’t have any trouble, I’m wetter than I’ve ever been. I hear him groan behind me.

“FUCK! YOUR CUNT’S TIGHT!”

He puts both hands on my ass as he pounds me harder. I start out with moans, then screams. I get that wonderful sensation, when you know you’re about to reach an orgasm. I prepare my body for it with a quick breath and then he pulls out of me. I turn around. He sits against the headboard.

“Come here.”

I lower myself onto his cock. He wraps his arms around my lower back as I move up and down on him. I’ve never really liked this position, but I’ll do it for him…for now. He’s watching me.

“Mmmmm…yeah, that’s it baby. Good girl.” He grabs my shoulders and squeezes hard. I let out a small half cry and he claws his nails down my back, I moan loudly. I start to feel a climax coming on again and I must be making it pretty obvious.

“No, no, no…you can’t cum yet…I’m not done with you. Get up.”

“Please…this feels so…” He interrupts me by grabbing my hair from the back.

“WHO’S IN CHARGE HERE?! YOUR CUNT BELONGS TO ME RIGHT NOW! I’M TELLING YOU NOT TO CUM YET!” He grabs the back of my head with both hands…”Get it?”

I choke back tears; the hair pulling really hurt. I nod, but that doesn’t suffice.

“I can’t hear you!”

“YES!!” I shout in his face. He kisses me on the mouth really hard and then shoves me onto my back.

“I will teach you not to yell at me.” He points a long, slender finger at me, reaches in the bedside table drawer and takes out a roll of heavy duty tape. He tears off about a four-inch strip with his bare hands and sticks it to my mouth.

“BEND OVER!!”

Damn it!! Now what do I do? I know exactly what’s coming. I decide to do as I’m told. I think t rit ripping the tape off, but that might get me in more trouble. He decides to spank me with his hand this time though, it still hurts like a son of bitch, but not nearly as much as that fucking paddle. I scream through the tape. When he’s finished, he orders me onto my back, with my legs off the side of the bed. He kneels down in front of me, pushes my legs apart and rams into me, hard. I scream through the tape again. He must sense that I want to tear it off.

“Spread your arms out!” I obey his order. He’s pumping away, really hard. He climbs on top of me and we both move further to the middle of the bed. He looks at me sweetly and brushes the hair from my face. Tears of pain and pleasure are in my eyes. He licks them away. When I feel an orgasm surfacing, he rips the tape off my mouth. He grabs both my wrists and pins them down, he raises up off of me and fucks me really deep, hard and slow. I feel like he’s going to touch my throat with the depth he’s reaching. It’s an amazing feeling and I can’t help but become short of breath. It’s so good, I can’t stand it. I moan and scream loudly.

“Oh JONATHAN!!! FUCK ME! YES! HARDER!”

He slows down and lowers himself on top of me again. He laughs quietly. “I thought I gave the orders here, baby girl.” He smiles. “You want to cum don’t you?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

“How bad?”

“Please, make me…”

He sits up, pulls out and only puts the head in. He teases me with it for about a minute before shoving it in full force, pulling it back out and ramming it again.

“Jonathan, please…” I whine.

“Turn over now, sweetie.”

My knees are so shaky, I’m not sure I can. Somehow I manage. I look up ahead of me and notice a mirror on the wall in front of me. I look up at Jonathan’s reflection, he catches my eye and enters me fully. My head drops and I fall to my elbows. He starts pumping away, harder and faster at an alarming speed. It hurts in the most wonderful way. It’s the most amazing physical pleasure ever. He starts to playfully smack my ass and the tingling it gives me helps bring me closer to my climax. I can feel it coming. He slows down a little.

“Are you ready, dirty girl?”

“Yes, give it to me.”

“Breathe deep.” He picks up his speed.

I hold in a long breath and release it with a loud, orgasmic scream. Huge waves of pleasure jolt through my entire body, then another smr, br, but equally intense orgasm follows. Jonathan slams his entire cock deep inside me and cums just as hard, if not harder, than I did. I feel his cock explode in me as I start to collapse under him. He falls limp on top of me. We catch our breaths after a few minutes and he slowly pulls of mof me. He rolls off my back and next to me. I notice for the first time how sweaty we both are. I roll on my back next to him. He manages strength to turn on his side. He’s so close to me, that he’s almost on top of me. The sweet guy that I met earlier is slowly coming back. He brushes my hair from my face, looks at me with those sweet, kind eyes and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes for a few seconds and enjoy that lovely kiss. I reach up and play with his dreads.

“You doing okay?” He asks, stroking the side of my waist. I nod and smile slightly. He falls back on his back with his arm around me. I rest my head on his chest, just below his shoulder.

“That was…I’ve NEVER done it like that…”

“Did I scare you?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

He laughs and kisses my forehead again. We fall asleep and wake up late morning.

“I guess I should go…I’m sure you have things to do. Don’t let me keep you.”

“Go where? I came here for you.” He pulls his pants up.

“Well…I guess I can stay…”

“I think you will… I’m not finished with you.”

“Then what? I probably won’t hear from you again, huh? I mean let’s be honest.”

“I approached you, remember? I know how to find you, and believe me, I will do it again. Don’t think you can run and hide.” There’s that evil smile again. My “master” has claimed me and I can’t get away. I smile to myself.

A few months later…Jonathan and I have kept in touch on a low-key level, through emails, about once a month or so, although I haven’t heard from him in a while. I have gotten several calls from galleries and I’m pretty satisfied with where I am careerwise. I think about our encounter everyday. Our secret. Jonathan proudly owns several pieces of my work now, too.

I come home late one evening to check my email, forgetting to even lock my door. I go to my inbox. Nothing. I feel like a loser. I should move on and put that night behind me. I was right. Who am I kidding? I turn up my TV loudly and sit on my couch to sketch my anger. I almost don’t even hear the phone ring. Probably nobody I care to talk to and WHY THE FUCK are they calling me so late? This is one of my major pet peeves. I let it ring four times before I exasperatingly answer it:

“Ye-es?”

“You should lock your door, young lady.”

I drop the phone. I heard the man’s voice in my bedroom too. I slowly walk towards the hallway. I frantically flip on the light to see Jonathan come out of my room, dressed in total black, paddle in hand.

“Are you ready?”
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Make Me Beg