toxicating.com

“Friday, finally”, she said while she curled her hair in front of the flat large mirror. I was standing next to her.

She had just taken a bubble bath, her skin so fragrant, wearing nothing but dark boy shorts. Metallic red lips. Black eyelining the blue irises.

“You’ve been a bad boy and now I get to beat you”, she said.

I saw the riding crops hanging on the door knob. The handcuffs. The memories of past weekends stung.

“No, please, not again, kitty”, I pled.
“But you deserve it, my boy”, her childish tone.
“Why?”

She finished doing her hair and stared at me in the mirror.

“Ok, no beating tonight, my boy”, she indulged.
“Ok, just a little… please?”, it was a reflex.