Unspoken

Part 8: Pain & Pleasure

It had taken my entire being to control my emotions and channel my blood away from my loins that when it came out from my nose instead, I was eternally grateful, for one, I had saved him from a potentially perverted image, and two, it had brought me gloriously to his lap. Well, at least my feet were anyway.

When he took off my shoes, the only thing I wished for at that split second was that they did not smell. I could have died from sheer embarrassment if he were to be put off by my stinking feet. I had always made sure that I smell good everywhere anywhere and anytime but somehow I felt more self conscious now that my feet were so close to his face.

I could only shout "Aaah! What are you doing, you pervert?!"

"What does it look like? I'm giving you a massage, idiot." He should have told me first instead of attacking my poor little feet. But then it hit me.

"Ah.. wh– whaaaat..." I tried to talk while his hands took turns gripping my foot and massaging another. A massage? "How do you know about massages?"

"I'm a fighter so I need to take care of my body. It's good to know these things, stupid."

Alright, that made sense. The 'taking care of my body' part, not the 'stupid' part. But still, oh shit...

I paused for a moment to take in the pressure that was simultaneously adding to the pain and relieving my feet off of them. I could not help myself from going "Ahhhh! What the....? Ah! Ow... ow ow!"

"Keep... still...! You freaking moron!" That barbarian had better know what he was doing!

"You don't have to be so rough, bastard!"

"Are you that weak, bitch?!"

"Fuck you!"

"Try me!" He retorted.

His thumb was pressing against a nerve on my calf that immediately sent an electric shock through my leg, making my leg kick toward his face on reflex. He caught it nonchalantly and resumed.

"Ah! Aaaah! Not there! Ow!"

"What? Here?" Not funny.

He moved to my ankles. "Dammit! Not so hard, you jerk!" I tried to kick his hands away but his grip was too strong.

And then to the toes. "Or what about here?"

"Urgh.... urgh..."

"Are you okay?"

"Urgh..." I bit my lip. I could take this. This thing that was pleasure and pain at the same time.

"Ah lower... lower..."

I was pleasantly surprised when he actually obeyed when I told him where to go, which parts hurt more, which parts need more pressure and which parts need more tenderness, sometimes using his knuckles, sometimes using his thumbs and sometimes just the fingertips.

"Here?" The pressure on the flesh below my toes was perfect, it felt so good.

Blissfully I went "Ah shit... you... fucking... ah... shit... shit...! Oh God, please! Urgh..." Embarrassment out the window.

He softened the pressure. "Is this better?"

"Ah...! That's .... much... better... Oooohh... Oooooh..." I became more relaxed, along the way I had turned into jelly on the couch.

"You're too noisy, cook. It's distracting me."

"You try to be at the receiving end!"

He reached out to wipe a tear on my cheek. "Is this your first time or what?"

"...I'm a virgin..." I replied meekly with a pout, hoping that he got it as sarcasm.

His face was still for like two seconds before he burst into a ridiculously loud guffaw.

"Seriously?! The entire Baratie and all those people coming in and out and this is your first time?"

My face heated up and with a frown, I shouted, "What has that got to do with anything, bastard?"

Laughing, he managed to squeeze out "I don't believe you."

"Shut up, moss head." Then he went quiet, still snickering.

But then I had to admit, "You know... you're actually... not that bad."

He broke into laughter again. "Hahaha! Thank you!"

"And I bet you get a lot of practice by doing it on yourself!"

Smack! "Ow! Shit head!"