Him and her — The Brat (part 1)
“You don’t mind, right?” She said, more than asked. Because it wasn’t really a question. She was going out and would be back after last call. It was her friend, the bartender. The bartender who was perennially on the outs with her boyfriend. But she “really needed her!” Again. And of course that meant she had to spend at least an hour after last call talking her off the ledge so she could go home. And of course that meant she would come home exhausted with the last of her buzz wearing off. And of course she had to work in the morning, so any hopes of her stumbling to the bedroom looking for anything but her pillow was out of the question.
“I’ll be waiting for you when you get back,” he said with a bit of a resigned sigh and a smirk.
He had just gotten home. His shifts had been running late and the time he got to see her during the week was minimal even when she wasn’t rushing out to comfort her girlfriend. True to the saying, absence had been making the heart grow fonder.
She looked good. She was exactly the right amount of curvy on a small frame which looked even better since her promotion required her to dress up. But she refused to look like, in her words, “a butch business woman.” So instead, she opted for (his words) “business sexy.” The skirts were on the tight side, and there might be a hidden slit that flashed a little skin occasionally. The tops were similar — not too tight or too low, but she could choose to tease by leaning over the right way or wearing the right bra. Tonight it was definitely the right bra. Her skirt was snug, tight around her hips, landing several inches above her knees. He was wondering why he wasn’t seeing even a trace of panties through the material when she bent over to adjust the strap of her high heels.
“Love you,” she said as she finished fussing with her shoes, raised up, and gave him a quick kiss.
She grabbed her purse and keys from the counter and reached for the door, but he beat her to it. He twisted the handle as if to open the door for her, but stopped when he had pulled the door just barely ajar.
“You look really sexy,” he said, “I don’t know why she gets the good eye candy.”
“She gives me free drinks,” she replied with a mock air of snobbery. “And besides, she’s got boyfriend drama going on.”
“Maybe I need to start some boyfriend drama.”
“Jealous?”
She saw the opportunity to engage in one of her favorite pastimes—teasing him.
“Only if boyfriend drama gets me into your panties.”
“Oh I don’t think there’s any risk of that happening,” she said, leaning close to whisper in his ear, “I’m not wearing any.”
And with that, as if to punctuate her defiance, she flicked his hand away from the doorknob, grasped it herself and flung the door open.
“You better be ready when you get home,” he leaned down and whispered into her ear in a mild but threatening tone, “because I will be!”
“Meh,” she replied, refusing to give up any ground.
She tossed her hair and stepped out the door. Taking a few steps she turned slightly back toward him, bit her glossy red lip, and unbuttoned one more of her blouse buttons. Her boobs were naturally fine, but even perkier thanks to the encouragement from her bra that was now just peeking from under her top.
“You think I’m kidding, but I’m going to take that attitude out of your little ass tonight.”
His voice was still calm, which made her slightly unnerved, but even more determined. With the grace of a woman on a mission, she spun on her heel, held her hand high, and flipped him off as she walked away.
——————————————————
She was on the hook.
Sitting at the end of the bar closest to the waitresses’ serving station, she had her phone in hand the entire night waiting for his occasional message to fire back some sassy remark. This was a game she reserved for nights like this when the bar traffic was so heavy it kept her girlfriend engaged serving customers instead of talking boyfriend talk. His messages had a certain bluntness to them tonight, so she kept the sass lighthearted and flirty (with the help of a steady stream of free alcohol) just in case she had pushed him a little too much.
Last call came and went, but it was some time later when the last of the patrons had left and an exhausted barmaid finally crumpled onto a bar stool next to her. She was spent and any venting she was going to do would have to wait for a new day.
She said her goodbyes to her friend, climbed into the waiting taxi, and messaged him to let him know she was on her way home. She hadn’t gotten a response. The taxi stopped on the curb outside her house. It was dark, with just the front light on over the stoop. Now it made sense.
For all of his talk call he just couldn’t stay up that late to make good on his threats. Too bad, she thought. She was home a little bit earlier and buzzing more than a little bit harder than normal. She just might have given him a little taste after the teasing she had given him tonight.
She stepped through the door and instinctively dropped her purse and keys on the counter as she bent down to undo the straps on her heels.
“Good!” His voice made her jump as he simultaneously flipped on all the lights in the room. “You’re back”
“Dammit!” she said, finally catching her breath, “you scared the shit out of me!”
She heaved a sigh, then bent down to undo the strap again.
“Nope,” he said firmly.
A thin black object swatted her hand away sharply, making her jump again. She looked at him with a mixture of confusion and surprise. He was holding a riding crop. Since when did he own a riding crop?
“Those stay on,” he said in a calm voice.
“Ooohhhh, I see,” she said, oozing with mock enlightenment, “Are you going to whip me because I’ve been a bad girl?” and went back to the strap.
“Nope,” he said in the same firm, but expressionless tone as he swatted her hand away again and tossed something shiny and metallic on the floor between her feet.
“Put them on.”
She stopped for a moment and stared, her fuzzy mind still trying to process what she was looking at. They had jokingly talked about handcuffs in the same ‘whips and chains’ conversations that she figured most couples probably had. They had even talked about buying some of the fuzzy ones from the adult store, just for fun. She reached down and tentatively picked up them up.
They were heavy.
They were real.
She looked up at him.
He raised his brows expectantly and gestured with the crop for her to put them on.
“I guess someone is having a kinky streak,” she said as she placed one gently on her slender wrist and swung it shut. It latched with a series of clicks. She intended to leave it very loose so she would be able to wiggle out of them. Taking the same care with the other, she started to place the second cuff on her other wrist when the crop slapped her hand away. Her eyes darted up to meet his.
“Behind your ankles,” he ordered.
“Seriously?”
“Behind your ankles,” he said again without wavering.
She focused her fuzzy vision, slipped her wrists behind her delicate ankles, and clicked the handcuffs shut. Tight. Dammit. She had meant to leave it loose, but bent over and balancing in her stilettos, she had to focus to stay standing.
She slowly looked up at him, “Is this what you wanted?”
“Almost,” he said, stepping close.
He reached down and pulled her blouse down off her shoulders. She wobbled, trying to keep her balance.
He pulled her blouse back hard until the buttons strained and popped off. The force nearly took her breath.
He left the remains of her top hanging around her waist and slid his hands slowly up her back under her bra. With a single jerk he ripped her bra apart.
She startled at the sound of the lace ripping. He let her bra fall.
The shredded lace slid down her arms, giving her goosebumps, until it came to rest on top of the handcuffs.
She stood helplessly bent over. Her bare back exposed, he dragged the tip of riding crop down her spine, watching the goosebumps travel from her arms down her back. He slid the crop down her side and along her belly and up to her breasts: hanging exposed, nipples so very hard as her let the crop barely graze them.
He took the crop away and let it hover some inches below her breasts.
There was a quick flick of his wrist.
There was a short whistle as the crop moved through the air.
There was a sharp slap as the crop landed across both of her nipples.
Her body jerked from the shock and sting. Her waves of brunette hair fell off her shoulders, somehow making her feel even more exposed. She made a barely-audible squeak as she drew a sharp breath.
It startled her.
It hurt.
But somewhere in her fuzzy mind that reeled to keep her balanced on her thin heels, she was not going to let him have the satisfaction.
Then, there it was again.
The whistle.
The shock
The sting.
This time she couldn’t help but twist and arch her back. He had swung the crop down, swiping across both of her erect nipples like a windshield wiper swiping at raindrops. Her breasts swung with the impact.
It hurt.
She bit her lip.
He smirked to himself, then slid the tip of the crop slowly up the inside of her thigh, then back down her leg to her ankle. With a sharp flick he swatted her ankle. The crop landed with a crack.
She winced.
He drew back sharply. She could hear the crop whistle as he drew it back, catching a glimpse of it out of the corner of her eye. He swung. She sidestepped as best she could, as much as the handcuffs would let her.
In her bent over posture, her skirt was high up her thighs, just barely covering her round ass. And now that her knees were apart, he slid the crop between them and slowly up the inside of her thighs, up to the edge of her skirt. He parted the slit in back, and continued sliding up until it came to rest against her soft slit. Ever so slightly gliding the tip of the crop glide back and forth over her delicate skin,
he watched her shudder at the sensation.
He moved closer — close enough to hear her breathing. He took her breasts in his free hand briefly, feeling her hard nipples—still hot from the abuse of the riding crop. She quivered slightly when he touched them, then collected herself. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
He stepped directly behind her, placing his feet between hers. Then, reaching around he slid the crop up the inside of her thighs from the front. She tensed her body, hoping to appear stoic, but he felt the rush of goosebumps travel up to her breasts once again, making her nipples even harder.
Her body couldn’t lie to him.
But now it was time to get rid of the brat — time for the real discipline to begin.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/kiitfn/him_and_her_the_brat_part_1