Make Me Ch. 01: Brat

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Chapter 1- Brat

I’ve always had rebellious streak. In all my relationships, as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve been a bit of a brat. I’m pretty damn cute though, with a dimpled half grin that melts other girls like ice cream on a sunny day, so I get away with it at first.

Women love a challenge, particularly a barely five-foot tall, freckled, wild haired, perky C-cup, pretty-as-hell even in work clothes, kind of challenge that happens to have an amazing ass.

Seriously, I’m not sure how I fit this booty into my boring mail lady work shorts, but I manage.

It’s never been hard for me to land a date, and almost easier to find a girlfriend, so I can afford to be picky. Every woman I’ve been with has been amazing, though mostly the actual relationships short lived. That said, my last relationship was a long one, for a minute there I thought it was the one, picked out rings and everything. But eventually she got fed up with my antics and took off, claimed I didn’t take anything seriously.

After that, I vowed to be less of a brat in the future, and though I didn’t believe I could live up to that, I thought I’d try. With the woman I wound up with, I wasn’t left with much of a choice.

When I met Anna I thought that finally I’d found someone I could get real with, be serious with. She’s not the game playing sort, she sees what she wants and she goes for it. An athletic nerd, she is full of contradictions, but she makes perfect sense to me. She’s the bookish sort, with those sexy smart girl glasses and black hair she keeps relaxed and in a sort of half assed upside pony tail, she actually sticks pencils in it. Get this, she’s a real-life librarian.

Yep, I landed myself a sexy librarian.

She’s kind of short and slim for my usual tastes, I generally like thick girls, or tall girls. I like being the tiny one. Not that she’s smaller than me, she’s nearly 5’5 and pretty athletic.

I stay active with my job, lots of walking and stairs, but I don’t hit the gym or anything. I’m soft, all curves, fun sized but fun to cuddle.

She’s a rock climber, and I guess her dad’s some sort of famous body builder guy, so she started lifting weights when she was 12. That’s the limit of what I know about her past, but I don’t talk about my past either. My point is, she’s ripped and it totally shows once I get her out of her modest work clothes. I guess her practically super human strength makes up for being relatively normal sized.

She was on my mail route, that’s how we met. After some hardcore flirting, she invited me to go rock climbing with her. I’m a terrible climber, but it was fun, and I admit the view from below her was pretty rockin’! (See what I did there?)

We’d been dating for several months, and when my lease was up she asked if I’d move in with her. I’m not used to doing things that fast, I’m not really the U-haul type, but I remembered my ex’s last words to me, and thought, “All right, let’s try serious.”

I moved my stuff in, my cat got acclimated, and everything seemed to be going well for the first week. I’ve got to say, I was on my best behavior.

As we fell into a routine I noticed some dynamics that were unexpected. Now, I wouldn’t say either of us are generally more dominant in bed than the other, we meet in the middle, and it’s good, clean, fun sex. We weren’t that adventurous back then, we tried blind folds and ice cubes, and a few other things, but generally we were pretty vanilla. She let me set the tone, and I was too self-conscious to break the mold.

Anyway, back to these interesting dynamics. First, she got in the habit of telling me to do things instead of asking, and inevitably, instead of communicating about it, my brat tendencies came out. Little things at first, like her telling me to do some small chore, and I would either simply not do it, or come back at her with some snark. Or sometimes it was as simple as her telling me to hand her something, and I’d hold it just out of her reach.

At first, she responded like previous girlfriends had, at least the good-humored ones. She’d make a joke out of it and take it as an invitation to wrestle or rough house and eventually have sex.

For that second week of living together, she put up with it without complaining. But by the end of the week, I could tell she was finding my compulsive baiting annoying. But that’s the problem with compulsive behaviors, you can’t just stop.

I started expecting a break up speech from her, and my nerves just made me even more bratty, which I’m sure didn’t help. To my surprise she didn’t dump me, instead she did what any grown-ass adult does. She asked me about it.

“Bri,” she said as we tidied up after dinner one night, when I held the dish towel just out of her reach, forcing her to come around the kitchen island to get it. “Why do you keep baiting me like this?”

At first, I pretended I didn’t know what she was talking about, but she called me on it.

“Like Antep Bayan Escort this, you’re doing it again.” she said, snatching the towel from me then throwing it on the counter. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about! Every time I ask you for anything, or to do anything, you pull this shit.”

“You don’t ask me to do things.” I replied, my filter temporarily AWOL, “You tell me to do things.”

She was quiet for a moment, and I was suddenly uncomfortable and wished I’d said anything but the truth. I worried for a moment that she’d be angry, was this going to be our first fight? Would she deny it, or demand that I give explicit examples? Or perhaps she’d point out that if I was going to avoid chores she had every right to tell me to do them.

“Wow, I’m sorry.” She said, her sincere tone the last thing I expected, “I am totally guilty of that. Why didn’t you just tell me what was bothering you?”

I put away the last of the clean dishes before answering. Be a grown up, Bri, I thought to myself, Just say something true.

“It doesn’t actually bother me.” I said, realizing the truth of the words as they came out.

“It obviously bothers you if you’re so reactive” she replied, “I’ll work on it, all right? I just want you to talk to me if you’re upset.”

“No, Anna, it actually doesn’t bother me.” I said, rolling with this thinking aloud vibe I had going, “Sometimes, it’s not that I don’t want you to tell me what to, I just want you to make me do it.”

No sooner did the words leave my mouth did I wish I could eat them again. I assumed that deer in the headlights expression, and just zipped it before I said something else weird straight out of my subconscious.

Anna stared at me for a few moments, and I got really uncomfortable, and sort of turned away from her, searching for something to do with my hands.

Then she did the last thing I expected her to do. She stepped forward, hooked a couple fingers into the front pocket of my jeans, and pulled me towards her. Her other hand slid up my neck and twisted in my curls. Her lips were so close to mine. I leaned in for the kiss, but she tightened her hand in my hair and held me just a hair’s width away.

“Well then,” She whispered, as my heart started to pound with excitement. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

I think I made one of those sounds in the back of my throat that you make when you want to reply, but your girlfriend is so fucking sexy that the part of your brain that makes words just shorts out.

“I asked you a question Brielle.” She said, using my full name and a sexy growly voice. “I’d like you to answer.”

I bit my lip and closed my eyes, exhaling slowly and daring myself to say what I desperately hoped she was wanting to hear.

“Make me.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I dare you to say that again.” She said forcing me back against the counter.

“Make me.” I said louder, putting all of my saucy flirtatious bratty self into it. Her lips were close, I leaned forward to steal the kiss, but as my lips met hers her hand tightened in my hair as she pulled away, her other hand appearing out of nowhere and slapping me across the face.

Not hard or anything, it shocked me more than it stung, and she watched me carefully to see how I responded. I tried to think of a response to let her know I was okay with playing rough. At least, I was pretty sure I was okay with it. My whole body felt charged, like socks right out of the dryer, and translating feeling to coherent thought wasn’t happening.

She hesitated, then she leaned and kissed me. The kiss was passionate and deep, I leaned into her, kissing her back, but she cut it off short.

“We do this on my terms.” She said as she pulled away. “I tell you to do something, you do it. If you don’t I won’t hesitate to remind you why I’m in charge, and you’re not.”

“Why is that again?” I asked playfully. She shot me a dangerous look.

“Because you’re a bratty submissive, and I’m bigger, stronger, and perfectly willing to beat this sweet ass of yours to put you in your place.” She reached down and gave my ass a good squeeze.

I got the sudden feeling she wasn’t joking, and the subsequent feeling in my loins that I believe is what romance novelists refer to as quivering.

Oh fuck. I thought, feeling her strength in her hold on me, she could actually do it.

So, when she said, “On your knees.” I complied without a second thought, dropping right down to my knees in front of her, though a moment later I wondered what might have happened if I hadn’t, but I was somewhere between scared and consumed with the intense desire to please her, so I don’t think I could have disobeyed if I’d tried.

She hiked up her skirt to reveal a complete lack of panties.

“You know what I like.” She said. And I did. She liked slow circles of my tongue around her clit, I complied willingly. She also liked deep tongue fucking. I did that too. She really liked when I managed to get my tongue all the way to her g-spot. I couldn’t give her g-spot orgasm that way, I needed my fingers to really make her squirt, but I could make her cum all the same, and there were very few things she liked more than cumming on my face. I made that happen, just for good measure. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself as her orgasm ebbed, and totally comfortable with the level of domination she had displayed.

I grinned up at her. Perhaps the knowing smirk she gave me should have tipped me off that she wasn’t quite done with me, but it caught me off guard when she stepped back, grabbed me by the upper arm, and pulled me to my feet roughly.

I was off balance enough to sort of stumble after her as she pulled be back into the dining room. I was even more shocked when she spun me around to face the table, and reached around to unbuckle my belt, pressing up against me from behind. I ground my ass into her hips, and she sort of chuckled.

“You are ridiculously cute, you know that?” She purred at me, “That’s why you think you can get away with anything. Hmm. I think…” She paused as she pulled my belt free of my jeans, no easy tasked as it was studded with those big smooth metal studs. I think I bought it at Hot Topic a decade ago when I was going through my angsty teen phase.

“I think I’m going to make you regret wearing this.” She deftly unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, then tugged them down to my knees, leaving my butt in nothing but a pair of thin red checkered boyshort undies.

“I do like these underwear though.” She said playfully slapping my ass before tugging them down. “So, I’ll go ahead and put them somewhere safer,” she pushed my undies all the way down to my knees as well, then leaned in until her lips touched the back of my ear and whispered, “because I’m about to wear out that ass.”

My breath caught and I bit down on my lip again, trying to bite back the involuntary whimper that escaped me. She put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me down over the table, then slid her hand down to the small of my back to hold me there. I felt the belt in the hand that pinned me down, and her free hand caressed my ass.

She leaned down and spoke again. “I want to be very clear, Bri.” She said, “The only thing you can do to get out of this, is to ask me stop. You say the word ‘stop’ in any context and everything stops and we sit and have a conversation about it. That’s your safeword. Anything else and I go on doing as I please to you. Do you understand that? I actually need you to answer me this time.”

“Yeah,” I said a bit weakly, “I understand.”

I also understood that I was in a very compromised position. The power I gained every time I baited her and she let it go had slipped away, and suddenly I was feeling rather sorry about it all, not to mention embarrassed and more than a little frightened. We’d had rough sex before, she’d pinned my wrists above my head while fucking me with a strap-on, but she’d never be this forceful with me.

I almost said, “Stop.” Right then, just to make sure it would really work, but I stopped myself. Of course, she’ll stop. I thought, she’d never violate that trust. She’ll never take this somewhere abusive.

I had never really thought about how completely I trusted Anna, but I knew right then that I trusted her significantly more than I trusted myself.

Her hand was still travelling across my ass, over the mounds of flesh, and down over my thighs. I shuddered as her fingers pushed between them and up, barely brushing against my cunt. I pushed towards her a bit, trying to get her to touch me more.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” She asked, “Right here where we eat dinner every night? You want me to make you cum?”

“Fuck, yes.” I replied.

“What exactly have you done to deserve to cum?” she asked savagely, “Why should I let you get off?”

“I…fuck, I don’t know…” was my insufficient reply.

“Well, that about sums it up.” She said, and her hand pulled away. I felt her take up my belt in her free hand and she trailed it slowly across my ass, the cold metal studs making me yearn for more, but also scaring me senseless. Is she really going to whip me? I thought, She won’t actually do it, not with a studded belt!

“You’ve spent all week goading me, getting on my nerves intentionally just to bait me into putting you in your place.” She scolded me. “I shouldn’t have to tell you where your place is, you should just know. Now, I’m going to let this belt do the rest of the talking and assume you’ll listen to it better than you listen to me.”

I felt the belt leave my ass. Oh my god, she’s going to do it. Fuck. Wait a second-

The belt landed across the center of my ass with a loud snap. I could tell it was folded over from the sound it made, and at impact I didn’t really feel any pain. The pain set in just before the second stroke landed perfectly over top the first. Fuck. She’s done this before. I’ve made bad choices, I thought as I tensed for a third blow.

It didn’t fall immediately, and I relaxed thinking perhaps she would have pity on me. The third blow landed, just across the seat of my bottom, the sit spot.

“Augh!” I cried out, then sort of whined. I had pushed forward against the table hard enough that it scooted an inch or so. My hands had moved down instinctively as if to block another blow, but I bit my tongue quick enough to keep from asking her to stop.

“Don’t even think about putting your hands back.” She said. I hurriedly pulled my hands back up level with my shoulders. As the whipping continued I struggled to keep them there.

She got a good pace going and my ass felt like it was on fire. The pain was both a turn on, and a distraction from the yearning. I wanted it to stop, but I also didn’t.

I want her to stop on her terms. I realized. Not mine, that’s the whole point.

I tried begging, “Please, not there again, wait…” but to no avail. I tried apologizing. “Fuck, fuck, I’m so sorry. I won’t – Ah! – do it anymore, I swear. I’m sorry!” and she only started focusing in on that sensitive crease where my thighs met my ass. I tried appealing to her sympathies, “Please, Anna, it hurts. It hurts, it hurts. I’ve learned my lesson, please…” I pleaded.

“It’s supposed to hurt.” She replied, “And how would you have learned your lesson? I haven’t finished teaching it yet,” she said, punctuating with the belt across my increasingly sore butt.

Finally, I tried the only thing I had left. I submitted. I stopped fighting the pain, and just accepted it. After a few more strokes with the belt, she stopped, laying the belt across my back, and stroking my tender behind with her hand. I felt her move away from me. I took a shaky breath, wondering if I should stand up, or wait for her to tell me what to do.

I heard a chair dragging closer against the wood floor. I dared to turn my head and look. She had pulled up a chair and was sitting in it, watching me. “Stay there, just like that.” She said, sliding a hand up her own thigh. “I’m going to enjoy this view for a moment.”

I rested my cheek on the table, and watched as she pleasured herself. Her fingers dipped into her own juices then slid back and forth over her clit. The sight of here there, jilling off while she looked me over, was almost too much for me. I wanted to touch myself too, even though I’d never done that in front of anyone before. But she had told me to stay put, and I didn’t fancy more of that belt across my ass, so I just watched her.

She’s got a lighter complexion than mine, even though she’s not mixed like me, so when she blushes you can tell, and as the flush crept up her neck to her cheeks I watched her breath come a bit faster, and her lips parted a bit. She was watching my ass, but as she started to come her eyes locked on to mine. I saw them glaze a bit but retain focus.

In that moment, when her body convulsed and shuddered, and I knew she had to force herself to hold my gaze, my insides twisted up in a tight ball as it hit me how beautiful she was. Her flawless skin, her full lips, that perfect, strong jawline. I swear nothing in the world is hotter than her cum face, all the angles of her face softened and she just looked at me like I was the only thing in the world she wanted.

“Come here, baby.” She said to me, holding an arm out.

Tears came unbidden to my eyes as I stiffly stood up. The belt clattered for the floor, but she ignored it.

“Come here.” She said again. I turned to face her.

“I want you over my knee,” she said, “leave your pants down.”

A moment later I was face down over her lap, bare assed, like a naughty kid.

She rubbed my sore backside gently, and I busied myself trying not to cry. She’s going to spank me. I thought. She just whipped my ass into next week, and she’s still going to spank me! I have to tell her to stop. She’s going to keep this up till I say it. She’s going to make me say it…

“Bri, I know you hate having serious conversations, particularly when they’re about you. You always joke your way out or start turning the tables so I’m the one talking.” She said gently, “So I’m going to make this easy for you.” Her hand felt so good on my ass, I decided to wait to say my safeword.

“I’m going to ask you some questions.” She continued, “And you just answer me, yes or no, and you can say more if you want. Just give me honesty. Okay?”

“Okay.” I sniffled.

“First, are you doing okay?” She asked.

Honesty. I thought.

“I think so.” I said. Her hand left my ass and I gripped the leg of the chair, bracing for impact. It didn’t come.

“Okay.” She said, “Have you ever been spanked or whipped by a lover before?”

“No.” I replied relaxing a bit.

“What about as a kid?” She asked.

I wasn’t expecting that question. I felt a little dizzy suddenly.

“My dad…” I replied slowly, “He…” I couldn’t force more words out, and she didn’t push it.

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