Who Do You Belong To 1

She knew he was angry even before he spoke. Even before he looked at her. The muscles in his jaw flexed and he seethed, his energy washing over her like a bucket of hot water. The silence in the room was so complete that it hummed, where normally the home was filled with joyful noise when her man walked in. She stood and crossed to him, spaying her fingers across his warm chest, feeling his angry, pounding heartbeat as she rose onto her toes to press a cautious kiss to his tense jaw.

"Welcome home, my love. How was your day?" She asked in as casual a voice as she could muster.

"I spoke to Charlie today," he said, turning away and sliding his jacket off his shoulders. In that moment, when fear and dread climbed like bile in her throat, she noticed that he had never looked so beautiful. Her heart throbbed with love and desperation as she feared that he might leave her one day.

"What did he say?" she asked, her voice small.

Charlie had been in love with her for years. Constantly, she denied him, over and over again. But he was always there, flattering her, flirting with her. He was always just around the corner.

"I think you know," he said. His voice was quiet, almost tremulous and as he turned to look at her the pain in his eyes shocked her.

"I love you," she whispered.

"You kissed him."

"He was being so insistent. I thought it might satisfy him enough to let it go for a while."

The pain in his eyes hardened into anger. "Don't lie to me. Everyone saw you. Making a damned fool of me, flirting with that man for all the world to see. You think I don't know what a tease you are? I, of all people, should know how much you love to get guys hard just to laugh it off like a joke. Testing your skills out on any man who talks to you.

She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. He had never been angry at her before, and the ice in his words frightened her to the bone.

"Did you enjoy kissing him?"

"No."

Suddenly she felt a stinging slap against her cheek and the sound of it rang through the silent room. The slap so shocked her that the tears came unbidden. She raised a hand to her cheek, in shock more than pain.

"How can I touch you now? Knowing he's had his hands on you. Knowing you LET him put his hands on you?"

"I'm so sorry."

"That doesn't answer my question. How can I touch you? What can I do now? You know how I hate that man. And yet you let yourself be flattered by him. HIM of all people! You were so pleased about being wanted that you let it go on. Have I failed to make you feel wanted? Have you ever doubted me?"

She covered her face with her hands. It was true. What he said was true. She couldn't bear the betrayal in his voice.

"What can I do? Knowing you enjoyed the attentions of another man?" His voice was tremulous again, broken and pleading.

She took a steadying breath and took her hands away from her face. Slowly, she met his gaze. Those eyes, those beautiful eyes, had always been his most striking and expressive feature. Now they seemed torn between pain and fury. It was her fault. Her own carelessness had led to this. She had hurt him.

"Punish me," she said. "Hit me again. Teach me a lesson. Anything. Only please don't leave me. You're the only man in the world."

Her last word was cut short by another slap across the face. She gasped at the sudden pain, but there was no time to register the pain before it was repeated on the other cheek, a backhand that sent her toppling to the ground. She braced her hands on the floor, gasping for breaths between sobs.

In a moment, he was gripping her upper arm and hauling her back onto her feet. He grabbed her chin and forced her to face him. His own eyes were shimmering with restrained tears, red-ringed and wild.

"Well?" He whispered.

"I love you," She repeated, her whole world thrumming for him.

"Still?" He was beautiful, his need and sadness playing across his soulful face.

"Always. Always."

"What now?"

His grip on her chin and her upper arm was still so fierce. She always knew he was strong, but she had never felt it first hand before. Her cheeks burned where he had struck her and she was surprised by the growing heat low in her belly and between her legs. He was dangerous, blind with jealousy and possessive anger. He was driven to madness over love of her. Her heart swelled.

"Take me to bed. Punish me more."

The fire in his eyes seemed to shift and combust into something feral and he pulled her roughly against his hard body. He crushed his mouth against hers. The kiss was unlike any time he had ever kissed her before. He had always been so tender, so careful. Now he was hungry, demanding, and greedy. She should have feared this wildness, but even then there was an undercurrent of anguish and tender longing, a familiar gentleness that put her fears to rest. She trusted her body to him, completely. Apprehension about how he would choose to punish her mixed with arousal into an intoxicating cocktail that made her head swim. She gripped onto the front of his shirt as to a lifeline, holding on tight as she was pulled under the riptide of his passion.

He slid his fingers through her hair, sending shimmering cascades of sensation over her shoulders and down her spine. Then, in an instant, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her face backwards. Air rushed into her lungs at the sudden termination of that punishing kiss. His gaze penetrated her, searching her expression, drinking deeply of her swirling emotions.

He lifted her off her feet, half carrying, half dragging her into the bedroom where he shoved her in front of him.

"Strip."

Her face flushed crimson and she nearly refused him, but he raised his brows with such a look of impatience that her hands flashed to the buttons of her blouse. She undressed, her fingers trembling with the intensity of his scrutiny. He stared so intently, his gaze raking over every inch of exposed flesh.

When she stood before him in only her bra and panties, he lunged forward. His cock was hard as he pulled her against his body again. He shoved his hand inside her underwear, his finger sliding expertly between her pussy lips, circling around and teasing her clit. She gasped against his lips. A memory flashed before her eyes of how she had felt when Charlie flirted with her. Beautiful and desired. She remembered how she had liked it. What a fool she had been then. What an idiot. No other man in the world could know her like her man did. No one knew how and where and when to touch her to send her careening into ecstasy. Or how to expertly deny her as he did then, circling his fingers through her slick folds but not allowing her the pressure she needed to cum.

"You're so wet for me now. Isn't this all you need?"

Her heart leapt at the hint of a satisfied smile in his tone. Yes, she was. Her body was his, it belonged to him, and it responded readily to the touch of it's master, reacting with a dogged, trained enthusiasm.

"Yes," she breathed. "Yes."

He took his hand away punishingly when she began unconsciously squirming, writhing her pussy against his hand. Instead, he ripped off her bra and threw it to the ground before groping her roughly. She softened into his roughness, opening herself to him, surrendering to his storm. When he shoved her onto the bed, she didn't resist. But when he flipped her onto her hands and knees, she blushed and shuddered to be so brazenly exposed to his gaze and his hands. He seemed to relish her embarrassment, grabbing a handful of her ass and dipping his fingers into her cunt. Despite her shame, she groaned as he probed her depths, arching her back and pushing herself onto his fingers.

"There she is," he murmured. "My desperate little girl." But then he swiftly removed his fingers and spanked her so hard that she cried out in pain and surprise.

"But you are being punished, remember." He spanked her again and again, each time harder than the last until her vision swam with tears and her whole body tingled with sensation.

Finally, he stopped and she heard the sound of his belt buckle and the zipper of his pants. She braced herself, fully expecting him to fuck her from behind. She was surprised when, instead, he turned her onto her back and tenderly ran his hand over her body as he settled on top of her. His touch was so warm and her pussy throbbed with a need so intense it was unlike anything she'd known before. She felt over-stimulated, hysterical. When his hand settled on her neck and his thick cock pushed inside of her, she couldn't contain a sob of relief. She felt thoroughly owned, glowing with the thrill of being possessed by a man such as him.

He squeezed her neck as he slowly and persistently drove his cock in and out of her. His forehead rested against her temple and he rasped into her ear, his voice gravelly and dark.

"Will do you belong to?"

"You. You." She repeated the word with every deep thrust that brought her closer to her orgasm.

"And who am I, baby?"

"D-daddy."

He moaned, his movements becoming less measured and calculated to tease her. He slammed into her, fucking her mercilessly and tightening his grip on her throat.

"That's right. That's my girl. No one touches my baby but me. You hear me?"

"Yes," she answered. Then, "yes!" she cried out as she clung to his broad shoulders and was tossed into the seething crush or an orgasm to intense it was almost painful. Her body convulsed and writhed as if possessed and she had just enough sense to notice with rapture when he gritted his teeth, bit her shoulder, and pumped his cum inside her.

Panting, he rested his head on her breast and she toyed her fingers through his silky hair.

She didn't know what to say. He was always such a gentle lover. She had never known this side of him. When he rolled off of her, but then clutched her to his side in a tight embrace, she began to recognize him again. She nuzzled into his chest, feeling as luxurious and content as a purring cat.

"Never leave me," he whispered against her hair. His fingers traced over her skin. "You are the only woman in the world."

"I am yours," she said. "Always."