A/N: Let me know what you think! Please correct me if I made any mistakes or if things aren't accurate :)
W/C: 1147
POV: girl
I've fucked up.
I don't know what the hell was in the salad I was eating earlier, but whatever it was, it made me feel extra bratty today. I've already earned my first strike when he came home and I decided not to follow his orders. I resolved to myself that I would be on my best behaviour for the rest of the night, but we all know how that normally goes.
The brattiness effects of the salad are starting to wear off, but the damage is already done, and I know from the death stare that's coming from across the table that there's no redeeming myself now.
We're out at a bar with a couple of our friends, and I've had maybe one too many drinks tonight. I accidentally rolled my eyes at one of his comments earlier, something that I didn't think he'd see because he wasn't looking in my direction.
I was very wrong, as without even looking at me, he tapped two fingers on his upper arm, the signal that indicated that I was now at two strikes. Shit.
My brattiness mixing with the liquid courage is not a great combination, and not even 15 minutes later I'm in the middle of talking with some guy I've never met before when I feel a familiar pair of eyes burning a hole in the back of my head from across the room.
Without even turning around, I know exactly who it is. Shit. That's strike three. I'm fucked.
I say a hasty goodbye to the stranger that I've been conversing with, and speed walk towards the restrooms, a silent prayer on my breath.
I turn the corner only to run into a wall. The wall reaches out and grabs my neck with a force that pushes all the air out of my lungs.
How the fuck did he get here so fast? He was on the other side of the bar a couple seconds ago. I realize that my curiosities are the least of my worries as he speaks up.
"Going somewhere, little slut?" he snarled at me.
"N-no, sir," I stutter back. "Nowhere."
Oh god. He's fucking pissed. I'm fucked. I'm so fucked.
"Well, you're going somewhere now, bitch."
He adjusts his grip from my neck to shoulder so as to not raise any suspicions with any of the other patrons of the bar, still gripping onto me as though I would float away as soon as he lets go.
I wouldn't float away, I would run.
Fast.
He half drags me back out to the side of the bar where our friends are, and forcing a smile on his face, he regrettably informs them that we have to cut the night short and attend to other matters.
Our friends start to disagree, saying that the night is still young, but one look from him, and they decide it would probably be best to shut up, for their sake, and probably mine as well. They give me a knowing and sympathetic smile, and then I'm being hauled towards the door, fingers digging deep enough in my shoulder to leave marks.
He hauls me to the car, saying a quick goodbye to the bouncer that we've made friends with over the years. He opens the passenger seat door and sits me down in the seat more roughly than he needs to. I look up at him, and any thought of escape is gone from my mind as I see his icy, venomous glare.
He slams the door and walks over to the other side, quickly getting in and driving out of the parking lot. He isn't usually an aggressive driver, so I know how mad is. I don't know if that makes me feel scared or excited. Maybe a combination of both.
Our house isn't too far from the bar, only 5 minutes or so, so the tense, silent ride doesn't last for too long.
He pulls up into our driveway, and gets out of the car, slamming his door shut behind him as I sit in the passenger seat in fear. It took me long enough to remember that I have to wait for him to open doors for me, and I'm not trying to get myself into any deeper shit now.
He opens my door and grabs me by the wrist with his iron grip to yank me out of the vehicle. Usually, he would offer his hand and wait for me to take it, but it's pretty clear that he isn't in a usual mood right now.
As soon as we enter the house, he finally speaks, for the first time since the bar.
"Playroom. Now," he spits out, and I am more than happy to oblige, scurrying my way as quickly as I can to our secret room with a somewhat hidden entrance.
I quickly strip, leaving my dress, bra and panties off to the side, and get on my knees in my designated spot. Rule number 1 of the Playroom, I'm not allowed to wear clothes unless otherwise instructed. While kneeling, my knees far apart exposing my pussy, I do a quick French braid with my hair, the way he and I both prefer it. Then, I place my hands palms up on my knees, chest out and head down as I wait for my master.
The Playroom is honestly one of the nicest rooms in the house, and the only one that we update frequently. The theme of the room is black and red, my favourite colour combination, the adjustable lighting that's right now set to low.
In various sections of the room, there is a spanking bench, St. Andrews Cross, and other various machines and apparatuses. Hooks and handles fastened to the walls and ceiling, versatile for anything we have planned.
An entire wall is dedicated to displaying our favourite whips, paddles, floggers and other toys. We take pride in our collection, not many others can match its size or quality.
On one wall, a king-sized bed, with many bars and hooks around it. There are two doors in the room, one leading back to the hallway hidden behind a bookshelf, and the other to a grand bathroom with a huge bathtub and a separate shower.
The door finally swings open after about 15 minutes of waiting, and his cold presence fills the room, sending goosebumps down my skin. He walks over to my kneeling form, towering over me as he puts his index finger underneath my chin, lifting my face to see his.
His anger is gone, replaced with an even more terrifying calmness. His eyes hold a menacing, calculating glint, one that I've seen many times before. I know that he won't act rashly on his emotions, but I also know that whatever he's going to do, it's gonna be a long night for me.
A/N: Both part 2.1 and part 2.2 are continuations of part 1, but they play out differently. Feel free to read one or the other, or both!
