I am at David house & he ask me to stay over & so I did & he ask me to go to the playroom & so I did & I am standing in front of the table & David is behind me
David: bend over
he said & so I did & I grab the edge
David: I am going to hit you six times & you are going to count with me
he said
that nervous edgy fear in his voice. He's back from wherever he's been. I hear it in his tone, in the way he places his fingers on my back, holding me – and the atmosphere in the room changes.
I close my eyes, bracing myself for the blow. It comes hard, snapping across my backside, and the bite of the belt is everything I feared. I cry out involuntarily, and take a huge gulp of air.
David: Count, Phoebe
he commands
Phoebe: One!
I shout at him, and it sounds like an expletive.
He hits me again, and the pain pulses and echoes along the line of the belt. Holy shit... that smarts.
Phoebe: Two!
I scream. It feels so good to scream.
His breathing is ragged and harsh. Whereas mine is almost non-existent as I desperately scrabble around my psyche looking for some internal strength. The belt cuts into my flesh again.
Phoebe: Three!
Tears spring unwelcome into my eyes. Jeez – this is harder than I thought – so much harder than the spanking. He's not holding anything back.
Phoebe: Four!
I yell as the belt bites me again, and now the tears are streaming down my face. I don't want to cry. It angers me that I am crying. He hits me again.
Phoebe: Five
My voice is more a choked, strangled sob, and in this moment, I think I hate him. One more, I can do one more. My backside feels as if it's on fire.
Phoebe: Six
I whisper as the blistering pain cuts across me again, and I hear him drop the belt behind me, and he's pulling me into his arms, all breathless and compassionate... and I want none of him.
Phoebe: Let go... no...
And I find myself struggling out his grasp, pushing him away. Fighting him.
Phoebe: Don't fucking touch me!
I hiss. I straighten and stare at him, and he's watching me as if I might bolt, gray eyes wide, bemused. I dash the tears angrily out of my eyes with the backs of my hands, glaring at him.
Phoebe: This is what you really like? Me, like this?
I use the sleeve of the bathrobe to wipe my nose.
He gazes at me warily.
Phoebe: Well, you are one fucked-up son of a bitch
David: Phoebe
he pleads, shocked
Phoebe: Don't you dare, Phoebe me! You need to sort your shit out, White!
And with that, I turn stiffly, and I walk out of the playroom, closing the door quietly behind me.
the next day I get dress and I go to the living room and I see David siting on the couch & I go to the elevator & I herd foot step I turn around & I see David coming to me
Phoebe: stop!
I said & he keep on walking
Phoebe: NO!
I shout and he stop I look at him for the final time and I go in the elevator & I turn to face him
David: Phoebe
he said
Phoebe: David
I said and the elevator doors close and I start to cry.
this is not the final chapter there is 2 more chapter to go
