N is for No

There is nowhere else I would rather be but to sit next to Nick, on the edge of this bed, on an island of our own. The blinding spotlights are gone, so is Mistress Kat. We are alone on the dim-lit stage, basking in the warm sunflower-yellow light. Even the music is right, it’s my playlist called ‘those hips’. I like to sway my hips for Nick, thus a special playlist. Wrapped in the blanket, like you see in the movies, when the police hand out blankets to victims, freshly rescued from some large body of water. Only my blanket is not the standard issue, but my own fluffy orange blanket, in which I cocoon myself on the couch and fall asleep every day while waiting for Nick.

“You should say ‘no’ more often, you know.” Nick wraps the blanket tighter around my shoulders. That’s not how I wish the rest of the night to unfold, still antsy, still wanton, but I don’t want to interrupt him either. “And not some ‘no no no, it hurts’, which in fact means that you want more. But one firm ‘no’.”

“I have my safeword,” I murmur into his shoulder.

“As per recent series of events, you’re not too eager to use it. A firm no would suffice, for me, for us,” he corrects himself.

“What about ‘fuck no’?” I giggle.

“That would earn you an extra spanking.” Nick swats my more than sore bottom, but the blanket absorbs the blow. 

I prick up my ears at the prospect of how to get Nick out of his funk and back to business. “Fuck no?” I repeat with another giggle, this time as a rhetorical question.

“Young lady,” Nick grabs my chin, and all I can see is his own laughing eyes. I wiggle my eyebrows, he wiggles his. “Shan’t cuss in the presence of a gentleman, unless she wishes—” 

I leap from under the blanket and over his knees. 

“—to end up over his lap. There we go!” He rubs my ass in circles, gauging my reaction. I try not to squirm; I worked so hard to get Nick’s hand there. “Or she can just ask.” 

I shake my head in disagreement.

“You perfectly know that such an infraction requires more than my hand, do you?” Nick sits me up, back in my spot. 

“Isn’t any infraction requires more than your hand?” I tug at his belt, forgoing the essential rule: don’t tease the man with the belt. I know too well that empty-handed Nick is harmless. If you followed me for long enough, you know about Nick’s complicated relationship with pain.

“That’s right,” he hops from the stage to rummage through the content of that awful cart. “Beware of what you wish for. Is that still a ‘fuck no’?” 

His tall frame blocks the view, but I can hear Nick striking various implements on his open palm, followed by ouches of various degrees.

“Abso-fucking-lutely!” I swoon in sweet anticipation.