Page 9 of How May I Please You
Exactly as it should be.
chapter
seven
“Here you go,” I say, bringing the wine glass to Journey’s lips. When she tries to take the glass from me, I pull it away. “No, it’s okay. You don't have to do anything, baby. I got you.”
Journey takes a sip of the red wine and nods when she’s done, signaling for me to place the glass back on the end table until she’s ready to use it again. Once both of my hands are free, I place them on her shoulders and go back to massaging her. This is how the rest of the night will go because my Little Devil deserves it. After allowing me to explore her soft limit and push her through it, I know how dedicated she is to me—not that her being late coming home from work would actually make me question her loyalty. I know better than to think that this woman is anything other than one hundred percent mine.
And if I find out otherwise, someone will bleed.
After the scene we had tonight, both of us were exhausted. We laid on the floor next to each other for a few minutes, letting out heaving breaths until I was finally strong enough to lift myself up and take care of my submissive. I helped Journey to her feet and removed the cuffs from both her hands and the plug she was still wearing, before having her bend over the bed and slowly pulling out the plug. I made sure to take my time because anyone who has experienced anal penetration knows that the exit is just as painful as the entrance. I saw the relief on her face once she was free of the toy, and it made me so proud to know that she went through it to push herself, but also for my satisfaction.
Once we got ourselves cleaned up with a joint shower, where I washed her body with her loofa and made sure every inch of her was clean before cleaning myself, we got out together and I applied her lotion for her. I covered each of her limbs with the smell of lavender and vanilla, and brushed her hair while she sipped red wine in front of me, then we moved to the bed, where I sat with my back against the headboard and pulled Journey between my legs to start her massage. She’s my perfect submissive, and she deserves the absolute best from me.
“How do you feel?” I ask, pressing my fingers into her neck. Her head falls forward as she lets out a beautiful little moan.
“I’m … perfect,” she replies before moaning again.
I chuckle. “I don't mean the massage. I mean your body. You pushed yourself tonight. I just want to make sure you're good, Little One.”
Journey takes a moment to enjoy my fingers climbing up the back of her neck before saying, “I’m okay. A little sore, but that’s to be expected after the first time, right?”
“Yeah, that’s probably true for most things in this lifestyle, whether it’s the first time or not. I probably should've started with just my fingers, but the beast in me wanted to push you, and you did so great. You made me so proud. And if all you feel is a little soreness, then I think we did it right.”
“Thank you, Sir,” you reply gleefully. “You most definitely did it right. You do everything right.”
“I don't know about all of that, but when it comes to this, I hope I’m always doing it right. Nothing matters to me more than caring for you. You belong to me. It’s my job to take care of what I own.”
“I absolutely belong to you, Sir. I wouldn't have it any other way.”
“Me either, Little Devil. Me either.”
As the wine bottle empties and the night comes to a close, I slide my hands down Journey’s arms until I come to a stop at her knuckles. I rub her hands gently while kissing the back of her neck, trying my best to make her feel good in more places than one. When I squeeze one of her hands, she winces quietly and pulls her hand away before she can stop herself.
“Oh,” I say, realizing I’ve hurt her, the complete opposite of what I’m trying to do. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
I feel the moment Journey’s body tenses. After being relaxed for a while, it’s pretty obvious when her muscles tighten and her neck goes rigid. Even from behind I can tell she’s worried about something.
She clears her throat and nods, but doesn't turn around to face me.
“Yeah, my hand is just a little dinged up,” she replies.
I frown as my chest fills with concern and all of my attention goes to her hand, lifting it up to do my own inspection. With a closer look, I can see the beginning stages of bruising on the knuckles of her right hand. When I lift the left hand, there are scratches on it like she encountered a cat who wasn't in the mood for company.
“This is from the scene? There's no way this is from tonight, right?” I ask, truly baffled by the sight of the marks and bruises on her skin. My eyes widen as I realize the scratches aren't confined to one hand, and they don't stop at her wrist. Journey has barely-visible scratches running all the way up both arms.
She clears her throat again. “No, it’s not from the scene. It’s from … work.”
“From work?” I say. “The guy you had to apprehend?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” she answers quickly like the memory just came back to her. “Yeah, that guy was really giving us problems. I didn't even realize he’d done all of this.”
“Yeah, I didn't realize it was that bad when you described it earlier. Your knuckles are bruised, babe. How many times did you have to punch the guy?”
“Umm, a few,” she says with a playful laugh. “I may have lost my cool a little bit, but he eventually got the message and stopped fighting me … I mean us. Once he realized there was nothing he could do about it, he stopped resisting and we got him cuffed. Some people resist, but it never matters. In the end, I get what I want.”
“Yeah, I’d say you do,” I joke, but I still feel a tingle of apprehension under my skin. “Did anybody else get hurt?”