Chapter 21

Chapter 21

...

"Papi, wake up," I cooed in his ear, straddling his back. He grunted but made no other move to wake up as I giggled quietly, slowly making my way down his back. He groaned as I scratched my nails against his skin, my lips hunting down the length of his back as I drew the sheets down over his ass, leaving him naked.

"Papi," I coaxed as a little smile turned up on his lips, telling me that he was more aware of what I was doing than he wanted me to know.

I smirked, moving my eyes down to his dimpled ass. An evil, yet so enticing thought hit me, and I dragged my nose down the curve of his ass before taking a bite out of it.

He hissed, cursing under his breath as his hips bucked forward, and his eyes shot open. I giggled at his shocked expression, squealing when he twisted around, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me up to lie down next to him.

It constantly amazed me how much of a girl he made me. Before him, I never giggled or squealed unless it was fake, but here I was squealing and giggling like a little girl without a care in the world.

"Did you just bite my ass, Bellezza?" he growled, his arms wrapped tightly around me as he nuzzled my throat.

"I couldn't help it," I told him, trying to stifle my laugh.

"You're going to pay for that," he informed me, rolling on top of me so that he was hovering over me on his elbows. He gripped my thigh, hitching it around his hip as his lips descended on my neck, nipping and sucking harshly. I moaned, squirming under him as he marked me possessively, leaving bruises up and down the length of my neck before he was completely satisfied.

He pulled back with a cocky smirk. "I don't want you covering these up," he told me, running his fingers over them. "I want everyone to know you're taken.”

I returned his smirk with one of my own, loving that he wanted me to show off his marks. I knew most women would balk at his suggestion because hickeys could be tacky, and the fact that he was being possessive would turn them off, but thank fuck I wasn't most women.

 I was planning on wearing his marks proudly; the insane thrill of knowing that other's could see, and yet not know that it was their Senator bestowing these marks of possession on me.

"With pleasure," I purred, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. His eyes darkened as his tongue darted out, leaving a wet trail across his lips as it slid over them. I shivered, knowing that he was about to do dirty, dirty things to me, but sadly his alarm went off.

He sighed, letting his head fall between my tits for a minute before rolling off me to sit up on the edge of the bed.

"What are your plans for the day?" he asked as he stretched before standing up, unconcerned about his nakedness or the erection he was making no move to hide from me.

I had to bite back a whimper as it bobbed against his stomach, the bulbous head leaking. "Hmmm?" I muttered, not able to drag my eyes away from his cock.

He chuckled, fisting it, and started stroking it languidly. "I asked if you had any plans for today.”

I grudgingly dragged my eyes away from his cock for a minute to address him directly. "Uh, I have lunch with Jacob, but that's about it," I told him before letting my eyes settle back on his cock.

I almost protested as he turned his back to me, heading toward the bathroom. "That's good," he called back over his shoulder. "Keep yourself available. I think I might have a task for you later.”

I flopped back onto the bed as he disappeared, dragging the sheets over my body, hugging a pillow to my body as I yawned. It didn't take me long to fall back asleep, the pattering of the shower soothing me and sending me to sleep.

By the time I woke up, Edward was long gone, and the sun was high in the sky. I stumbled out of bed, throwing on a pair of boyshorts and one of Edward's wife beaters before going to brush my teeth and comb my hair. I twisted it up into a sloppy bun before making my way downstairs to the kitchen.

I rummaged through the fridge before settling on a yogurt and a garlic bagel with cream cheese for breakfast.

I was surprised by the knock on the door as I munched on my bagel, and I cautiously headed over to it, peering through the peephole to see a delivery man on the other side. 

Curious, I opened the door, forgetting that all I was wearing was boyshorts and one of Edward's wife beaters knotted at the hip and pulled taut over my chest.

It wasn't modest by any means, and by the way the guy's eyes bugged out of his head and gulped, I presumed he agreed with me.

"Package for a Miss Swan?" he squeaked out, trying and failing to keep his eyes from wandering over my body.

"This is she," I said, taking the offered clipboard and quickly signing my signature before handing it back.

He gave me the package, his hands practically shaking as I arched my brow at him. Sure, I wasn't wearing much, but puberty had passed long ago for this guy, so he should be used to this kind of thing. I was pretty sure he was hiding his erection behind his clipboard, which was a little disconcerting.

I closed the door quickly—package in hand—and headed back into the kitchen to fetch a knife.

I was surprised to find a letter inside from Quil Ateara, my parent's lawyer, and a bound, leather journal. We had been contacting each other via e-mail as he settled the agreement for selling my parent's house to my specifications. My parent's friends had cleared the house, giving most of it to charity since I had made it clear that I didn't want any of it.

Dear Isabella,

I'm writing this letter at the discretion of myself and my wife.

Upon stumbling across the journal inside this package in your parent's attic, I was hesitant, but obligated to send it to you.

I mean no disrespect to your parents or yourself by sending this to you, but I believe that you deserve to know the truth.

I hope in time you will be able to forgive, not only me, but also your parents for this.

Yours Sincerely,

Quil Ateara

I dropped the letter, picking up the journal with trepidation, unsure as to whether I should actually open it or not. It seemed like such a defining moment that I almost wanted to call Edward and ask his opinion on what I should do, but in the end, I just took a deep breath and headed for living room with it in hand. I flopped down on the couch, opening the clasp and reading the first page.

The name "Mary Renee Swan" was written in elegant script, and I swallowed tightly, fighting back the emotion my mother's name brought me. I closed my eyes briefly before deciding to just rip the band-aid off.

I flipped it to a random page, reading what was written:

May 5th, 1987:

I met him again today. I know I shouldn't, and I can feel Phil getting suspicious about my constant disappearances, but I can't help it.

He makes me feel alive, wild, and dare I believe, even free.

Every time I go to see him, I tell myself that I will end it, but one touch from him, and I'm once again his.

I want it all. I want to run away, I want to be free from this suffocating town, and when I'm in his arms, under his body, with him, I believe I can...

I frowned, the warring feelings of dread mixed with curiosity. I wasn't stupid; it was obvious that my mother had an affair with some unnamed man the year I was born. I skipped back until I was close to the beginning, and read.

January 17th, 1987:

Is it possible to meet your soulmate after you are married?

I feel bad, almost dirty, but he has sparked emotions in me that Phil could never hope to achieve.

His name is Charlie Dwyer, not Chuck, not Charles, but Charlie.

He knows how much I hate my Christian name, and has taken to calling me Renee, my middle name.

It does things to me that should embarrass me, but I can't help it...

January 18th, 1987:

He touched my hand today, his fingers casually brushing along the length of mine as he sat by me at dinner.

It seems so high school to say that, but the electricity of his touch hummed through me for the rest of the day...

January 19th, 1987:

I'm not sure for how long I can hold this back. I've tried being cold and indifferent toward him, but his warm brown eyes melt me, pulling me in.

His curly hair is constantly falling in his eyes, and each time my hand aches to push it out of the way, pausing to caress his face...

My heart is pounding as I yank the pages, skipping to the end, my panic slowly escalating.

August 10th, 1987:

I'm broken, torn into pieces by my own stupidity and lust for life.

I'm sick, nauseous, and I just want to curl up into a ball and die.

I'm so empty without him, but I know that Phil was the better choice, the only choice, for me and my baby.

He wanted me to go with him, to ride off into the sunset on his Harley with him. He wanted to start a family, to raise our child, but I couldn't do it.

I was too weak, too young, too stupid, and now, the only thing that I have left of him is inside of me...

I didn't even aware that tears were falling down my cheeks until my vision blurred, the tears hitting the page and smudging the words. I dropped the journal like it was on fire, gathering my knees to my chest as I raised a hand, trying to brush away the tears. The pain radiating through me was like someone had just re-opened the wound of my parent's death, except that it was worse, because the man who I had thought was my father, wasn’t.

The hurt, the anger, the resentment flooded me. It felt as if I had been lied to my whole life.

 Every smile, every laugh, suddenly seemed fake and posed. I wanted to believe that it wasn't true, but the pieces fit too well for it not to be. The distance that I had felt with my father made sense. The way he hardly talked to me, pretty much ignoring my presence unless he felt I needed to be punished, made me realize that he had never loved me. How could he love the child of another man? How could he look at the reminder of his wife's unfaithfulness with anything but distaste?

I rocked myself, trying to calm down, but I couldn't. The sobs leaving me choked me with their intensity.

Every time I had been rebuffed, stifled, and sheltered flickered through my mind. Every time I had strived to be good, to make them proud of me, only to be met with kind indifference made me realize just how little I meant to either of them. I wanted to shout and scream, smashing everything around me, but I was too shaken to move from my perch on the couch.

I lay on the couch, my knees to my chest until the tears stopped, a familiar numbness taking over me. I didn't even register the phone ringing, or anything else around me. All I knew that was everything I had worked for the last couple of months seemed to be for naught. I shivered, my every breath labored as I struggled to breathe, to keep going.

It wasn't until I felt a pair of arms wrap around me, picking me up and tucking me against his strong chest that I was finally able to breathe clearly, the feeling of home, of belonging completely encompassing me. My body tingled as the pain flared up once again, my armor dropping uselessly onto the ground as I inhaled his scent.

He didn't talk or ask me anything. I couldn't have answered if I wanted to anyway. Tears started falling again as he stripped me of my clothes and brought me under the hot spray of the shower, his body still wrapped around mine for support. I buried my head in his chest, sobbing and clutching at him as I let everything go.

There was only one thing that my mind could clearly think as I grasped onto Edward as he anchored me to the ground: I had a father.

One who I had never met, never known, but knew I existed.

I felt like I was being tossed among the waves as I tried to reach the surface, helpless to battle against it, and if it hadn't been for Edward's grip on me, I would have sunk with no ability to return.

If this man, Charlie, knew of my existence, then why had he made no move to contact me? Self-doubt and anger built up inside me, festering beneath the surface as I clung to Edward tightly.

Was I not worth it?

Was I not good enough?

Why did it always seem that just when my feet were firmly planted on the ground, something or someone would knock me over again?

...

I slammed the door to our apartment closed, kicking my heels off, letting them clatter against the hardwood floor as I tossed the keys in the bowl by the door. I wasn't in a good mood, and honestly hadn't been in one all week. Not since I had found out anyway.

It was as if a dark cloud was hanging over my head, and not even Edward had been able to dispel it, not that he had tried. He'd just stepped back, content to let me deal with this on my own, offering his support with sympathy and quiet guidance, which had only fueled my annoyance.

I, in turn, had responded by acting like a brat. I had thrown tantrums, screamed and shouted, ignored him, and locked myself away in my room, but the part I hated the most was that he had let me.

He hadn't given in to my weak, selfish attempts to make him snap and lose control. I wanted him to be angry, I wanted him to punish me, and I knew that he knew that, which was why he responded with the opposite.

He became indifferent, disregarding my presence, pretending to be oblivious to how I continued pushing him.

It seemed as though we were at an impasse at the moment though. I had simmered down, my aggravation bubbling under the surface, and he had become more active in acknowledging my existence, but neither of us was eager to broach the subject that was the crux of the problem.

I knew he wanted me to come to him, but every time I stood outside his bedroom door, my hand poised to knock, something would pull me back—whether it was my pride or not, I wasn't sure.

I was so tired, but I knew the moment I let go of my anger was the moment I let the other emotions that I had been successfully been pushing away would overtake me again.

A scream bubbled up in my throat as an arm shot out, dragging me backward into the hall closet. A hand clamped over my mouth, and I tensed, my self-defense moves running through my mind.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Edward murmured darkly into my ear, yanking me back flush against him. "I'd hate to add that to your already large list of infractions.”

I swallowed tightly, conflicting emotions tangling in my head as I stood stiffly against him. He slowly lowered his hand from my mouth, his other arm still gripping my waist tightly.

"Are you going to behave?" he asked, and the anger simmering beneath the surface flared up.

"I am not in the mood for this, Edward. Get the fuck off me!" I spat, trying to push him off me. He spun me around, slamming my back into the closet door, his arms pinning me to it.

"I really don't give a fuck how you feel right now, Isabella," he sneered. "You've been disrespecting me all week, and I think its time we sort this mess out.”

"Fuck you!" I snarled, fighting against him, but he blocked everything, already anticipating my movements.

He let out a humorless laugh as he skimmed his nose up the column of my neck. "Oh, don't worry, you will." I gasped, fighting back a moan as he bit down harshly on my earlobe.

My breathing was shallow as he nipped at my ear, smoothing his tongue over the irritated skin once he was done.

"You've been acting like a brat all week, and now, you are going to submit to me, and you will take your punishment. Am I understood?”

An internal war raged in me, one part of me begging me to obey, to take what had been a long time coming, but the other part refused to back down for second.

"No," I told him defiantly.

He chuckled sadistically, obviously enjoying this. "You know, I was hoping you would say that because it makes this so much more fun for me.”

My muscles tensed further, and I struggled to control my breathing as he stroked the bare skin of my stomach above the waistband of my tights. His fingers ran around my navel, sweeping over my skin in a slow, purposeful manner, and I had to clench my teeth together and fist my hands in order to not make any outward reaction.

"I'm not in the mood for this," I warned him through my teeth.

He laughed under his breath. "Then safeword, but if you think for one moment that I believe you aren't currently drenching your panties, then you aren't as smart as I thought you were," he taunted.

"I guess you're just not doing it for me today," I sneered, smirking when his hand stopped its movement on my stomach, and his breathing ceased. Anticipation and excitement welled up inside me as I waited for his reaction. I had baited him, and I was waiting for him to bite.

He stayed silent for a long moment before speaking in a low, dangerous voice. "I'm going to give you one more chance. Submit, and I might go easy on you.”

"Nope," I said, popping the 'p' just to annoy him further. My heart was pounding loudly in my chest, and I could feel the adrenaline coarsing through my veins as I waited to see his response to my defiance. He yanked my wrists behind me, clasping them in one hand before snapping a pair of leather cuffs to them. I barely had time to realize what was happening before he crouched down, grabbed my legs and threw me over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.

I struggled, trying to kick my legs out as I demanded that he put me down. He, of course, ignored me and exited the closet, striding down the hall to the living room.

He deposited me down on a stool, setting me down on it before gripping both sides of my shirt dress and ripping it open. Buttons scattered everywhere as he forcibly tore my dress from my body, leaving me in only my tights and panties. My chest heaved in excitement as he efficiently manhandled my body, flipping me over.

I let out an "oomph," all the air in my body leaving my body as he dumped me unceremoniously on my stomach. I barely had time to catch my breath before he gripped my ankles, tying them to the legs of the stool he had bent me over. My feet just reached the floor, helping me keep my balance as he uncuffed my wrist before cuffing them back to the stool below me, incapacitating me completely. I knew that if I struggled too much I would knock over the stool below, hurting myself, and so I huffed, glaring at him as he stood in front me, his head cocked and a salacious smirk on his lips.

"You look good like this," he taunted, walking slowly around my body, "At my mercy with no way to escape.”

My teeth gritted together as I bit back a retort, swallowing it down forcefully.

He smirked, enjoying that I was uncomfortable. I shivered as he trailed something thin and leather down my spine, tracing patterns on my skin. "You've forgotten your place," he announced. "You've forgotten who you belong to, that your body, heart, and mind are mine.”

He continued walking languidly around me, his gait showing no rush or quickness to end his teasing. He pretended to act casually, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt.

He crouched in front of me, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him. "Your defiance isn't cute, Isabella, and I will take what you refuse to give me whether you choose to submit to me or not: The simple fact of the matter is that I own you, and the sooner you realize that, the easier you life will become.”

He quirked an eyebrow at me in silent question, waiting for me to come to a decision. I jerked my chin out of his grasp, narrowing my eyes at him, my heart seeming to pound right out of my chest as my stomach churned. "I will not submit," I told him, my voice wavering slightly in uncertainty.

He sighed, and gave me a curt nod, his expression hardening. "You will," was all he said. He stood up, making his way around me until he was behind me. My body tensed as he yanked down my tights and panties to my thighs.

My breath hitched as I caught sight of a crop out of the corner of my eye, my hands curling into fists.

"Why am I punishing you, Bellezza?" he asked calmly.

I allowed my silence to answer that question, wondering if he would truly punish me without my acquiescence. He had to have known that I was testing him, attempting to manipulate the response I wanted from him.

"I'm punishing you because were rude, selfish, and disrespectful. The reasons behind it are a whole other matter that we will come back to once I feel that you have atoned for your bratiness during the course of the week," he explained, his tone monotonous and almost bored.

"I want you to thank me every time this touches your skin," he ordered, demonstrating by bringing down the crop onto the lips of my pussy.

I jerked forward, whimpering as my nails dug into the flesh of my palms. "You'll be receiving twenty-five from the crop, and if you fail to respond correctly or cum, then I'll be forced to add more onto your punishment. Have I made myself clear?”

"Yes, Papi," I muttered grudgingly.

He chuckled sardonically."Trust me when I say that this is going to hurt you a lot more than it will hurt me.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he brought down the crop on the lips of my pussy, my flesh already wet and swollen as it connected to it. I moaned low in my throat as the sharp pain mixed with a slither of pleasure radiated through me, the warring sensations causing wetness to trickle from my pussy.

"I'm waiting," he said impatiently, reminding me of his instructions.

"Thank you, Papi," I rasped, the call he had on my body already winning out over my pride.

I was open and spread for him in this position, the lips of my pussy parted, exposing me intimately as he brought the crop down on my clit with sure and firm precision.

"Thank you, Papi," I hissed through my teeth, trying and failing to hold onto my anger.

A small, rebellious part of me hated how right he had been when he told me that he owned me, because I knew by how my body automatically reacted to him that he was right.

Each hit of the crop stripped away part of my defense, tearing down my walls until I was teetering on the edge, pain mixing harshly with pleasure as tears pooled in my eyes, threatening to fall down my cheeks.

"Thank you, Papi.”

I felt my insides coil, the spring stretching and tightening until it was taut as heat flushed through me. I was panting, sweat dripping down my hairline as I forced myself to hold back the orgasm battling to overtake me by the time he hit ten.

"Thank you, Papi," I keened lowly.

He paused, allowing me a moment of reprieve to try and calm my body down. "What color are we?" he asked coolly.

"Green," I choked out, a sob catching in my throat.

"And who do you belong to, who owns your body?" he asked.

I sighed, releasing my grasp on my anger, the tension draining from my body. "You do, Papi," I admitted quietly.

"Will you submit?”

I struggled for a moment, the last of my mind's resistance breaking, and slipped into the mindset of his Little Girl. I let out a long breath. "Yes, Papi.”

"Good girl," he murmured, rubbing a hand up and down my spine. "Are you ready to take the rest of your punishment?”

I nodded. "Yes, Papi." My voice was sure and steady, belaying the way my body trembled with need.

I could hear the blood pounding in my head as the crop landed on my pussy, grazing my clit. I moaned, fighting through the haze of lust. "T-thank you, Papi," I panted.

My folds were sore and swollen, and my clit throbbed painfully with blood as I fought valiantly to keep my composure and not cum right there and then. The tears that had welled-up in my eyes fell down my cheeks in steady streams. I writhed, whimpering as the rope dug into my wrists and ankles as they tightened, reminding me of my place and my transgressions.

Without the anger supporting me as my crutch, the feelings I had been burying beneath it rose, crashing down around me, trying to pull beneath its undertow.

"Thank you, Papi!" I mewled desperately, my body's quivers becoming more pronounced.

"Hold it," he ordered, reaching between my legs and clamping something to my clit, stopping the blood flow.

My hips bucked uselessly, trying to gain the friction I longed but knowing that I didn't deserve it. I jolted at the harshness of his next blow, my body jerking and my pussy juices dripping down my thighs. The constant stimulation he was giving had me barely holding on, only the threat of prolonged punishment allowing me to be able to refocus my mind on something else.

"Thank you, Papi!”

I instead concentrated on the quick, heavy pants I was expelling, the feel of the rope biting into my flesh, the seat of the stool pressing into my stomach, and the rivulets of tears falling down my cheeks. I forced myself to think of why I deserved my punishment, what I had done to bait him, to force his hand, and why I needed to be put in my place.

The acute need to be inferior, to be small and delicate, filled me. I wanted to be his Little Girl again. I wanted to serve him, to take care of him like he did me. The guilt and despondency of how I had failed in my role, of how wrapped up I had been in my drama that I hadn't even given a second thought to him.

"T-than-thank you, Papi," I stuttered weakly.

He once again paused to check on how I was coping. "What color are we?" he asked.

"G-green, Papi," I told him.

"You still have five more to take, will you submit and take them?" he queried.

"Yes, Papi," I confirmed, my body spread for his taking.

I scrunched my eyes shut, my teeth digging into my bottom lip as I tried to inhale through my nose to distract myself from the pain. I mumbled my "Thank you, Papi's" at my cue, praying for some kind of relief.

My body was a live wire, strung tightly, my muscles tensed in anticipation for each flick of the crop. I felt like I was swimming beneath the surface of the water, my responses muffled and the flares of pain distant.

My breaths wheezed, the tightness of my lungs making me unable to breathe properly. I hung my head, my body slack, incapable of moving even if I had wanted to.

It was only when his hand brushed my bruised, sore flesh, unclipping the clamp on my clit that I realized that he was finished.

I flinched, my muscles tensing up as I felt his touch on my extremely sensitive flesh. I was still on the cusp of an orgasm with no way to tip over the edge, and I whimpered as he carefully applied moisturizer to my pulsing lips.

"Now, my Bellezza, we are going to have a much needed talk," he informed me, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"I wanted you to figure this out on your own, but you're struggling and too damn proud to ask for help. So—whether you like it or not—we are going to sort through this together.”


He paused making sure he still had my attention before continuing. "I know that this is hard for you, and that you feel as though you are drowning, but holding onto the anger isn't healthy, and it's impairing your mind of rational decisions. Do you want to know your father or not?”

I opened and closed my mouth a few times in indecision before answering. "I don't know," I finally admitted, my voice hoarse. He kept silent, waiting for me to continue, knowing—as he always did—that I had more to say.

"It will change everything if I meet him, and I'm not sure I'm prepared for it. What if he doesn't want me?" I asked, my voice small.

"Stop it," he demanded, moving around my body and crouching down so that his face was level with mine. His eyes were dark and angry as they gazed into mine. "I don't want to have to go through all this again, Isabella. What happened to the brave girl who was ready for the world to know that she was mine? Where is the calm, confident woman who comforted me, who told me she loved me? Are you truly willing to let months of work, months of letting your insecurities go, of building a strong foundation, go to ruin? Because I'm not.”

I had no response to his questions because he was right. Yes, the revelation that my whole childhood was one big lie had hit me hard and knocked me over, but was I willing to let it take over my life until it consumed me? How could I claim that I was ready for our relationship to go public when the first hiccup had sent me spiraling down back to the beginning?

"I don't know what to do," I told him, hanging my head in anger and frustration at myself. I hated that I was still so fucking weak, and unable to figure out even the simplest of things.

"I can't tell you the answer to that, Bellezza, because it's something that you have to figure out for yourself, but I can't help you if you don't let me. We won't work as a couple if there are walls between us. I can't give you what you need if you don't make yourself available to take it. My job is to guide you, but you have to allow me to do it, and I can't when I feel all this distance between us.”

I nodded, knowing that, by pushing him away, I had also been pushing away the support and love he had wanted to give me, but didn't know how. His words put the last week in a better perspective for me, and as I looked at him, really looked at him, I saw what I had done, not only to myself, but to him also.

He had told me once that my insecurities not only hurt me, but they hurt him also, and looking at him now, I saw how true that statement was. He looked exhausted, his eyebrows knitted in a permanent frown as he regarded me, his eyes full of hurt and pain.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, tears once again falling down my face. "I'm so sorry.”

He sighed, ducking his head as he loosened the rope around my wrist. "I know you are," he admitted, "but shutting me out like you did really fucking hurt. We're meant to be in this together, and it feels likes we've taken two steps back.”

I swallowed tightly, closing my eyes as he massaged my chaffed wrists. "I do want to know him, but I'm so fucking scared of what will happen when I do. I've lived my life believing that the man I thought was my father hated me, and I can't bear to make myself known to him only for him to turn me away.”

His hands caressed up my arms, kneading my muscles so that they loosened and didn't cramp. He stood up, massaging my shoulders and back as he spoke. "What is my motto, Bellezza?" he asked firmly.

"Nothing ventured is nothing gained," I responded.

"Life is about taking chances, Isabella. The choices we make are generally not easy, and they are full of consequences, but if we don't try, then we'll never know. Take it from someone who knows, sometimes the hardest decisions where we have to put everything on the line reap the most benefits. I made the choice to pursue my fetish instead of ignoring it, and look where it led me.”

I sighed, my eyelids fluttering as he caressed my ass before diverting down to my thighs. "You're right. I don't want to be this scared little girl who breaks so easily. I want to know who he is," I said, steeling my resolve.

"Okay, I'll get someone on that. We'll hire a Private Investigator to look into it, which shouldn't take too long since we know your father's last name...”

My heart clenched as I thanked God for giving me this wonderful man who was willing to attend to my every need. "Thank you," I murmured, my voice choked up. "I'm so sorry for how I've been acting, but please don't doubt for a second that I love you. I'll try harder, and I will become worthy of your attention," I told him as he lifted me up, cradling me in his arms.

"You are worthy, Isabella," he corrected. "My attention, my guidance and my love are all yours. You don't need to try and earn my affections because they are already yours.”

He headed straight for the bathroom, depositing me carefully on the counter while he ran a bath. I was surprised when he didn't join me, instead settling himself down on the floor beside the bath, a soaped cloth in hand as he washed me.

I relaxed back against the tub, yawning tiredly as exhaustion started to seep into me.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly, moving the cloth over my neck and down my collarbone.

"Tired," I muttered, struggling to keep my eyes open.

He chuckled, sweeping the cloth over my aching nipples causing a hiss to escape me, and my pussy to throb once again.

He watched me closely as he gently ran the cloth in circles over my tits, gauging my reaction. I squirmed, unsure if I wanted his touch or not. One part begged for the relief I knew he could give me, while the other part shied away, the pulsing ache painful and sensitive.

"Do you need to cum, Little One?" he asked, dipping the cloth between my legs, brushing it against my folds.

I bit my lip in indecision, looking up at him for guidance. "It hurts," I admitted.

He leaned over the edge of the tub, weaving a hand through my hair and bringing my lips to his. "Focus on me," he said confidently. I obeyed, allowing my eyes to fall shut as he drew my bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it as his fingers pressed at my entrance, sliding in easily.

I arched into him, whimpering as my walls clutched his fingers tightly, relief that he was not touching my clit apparent. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss as he started building up a rhythm, his fingers slowly quickening in their pace as he acclimated me to his touch.

His tongue slid against mine, stroking it as my hips responded to his thrusts, arching forward to receive more.

He let his hand fall from my hair, sliding down my neck as it moved to fondle the supple globe of my left tit. He rolled my nipple between his fingers, plucking and pinching it as he would have my clit.

I moaned loudly, the constant stimulation from the last hour making me already close. "I'm close," I mewled against his mouth, my lips hungry as my wet hands grasped his shoulders, dripping water all over his shirt.

"Cum for me, Bellezza," he instructed, "Cum all over my fingers." His thrust his fingers, and with quick precision curled and twisted them, grazing them against my g-spot.

I was powerless to do anything but shatter against his hand, the coil in my stomach snapping as a scream caught in my throat. I shook and shuddered, screaming out for him as pleasure flooded me, erasing the pain and the discomfort I had just moments ago been feeling.

I sobbed in relief, my body trembling and quivering as my walls pulsated, spasming and gripping his fingers tightly.

His lips coaxed me back to life, my eyelids fluttering open and meeting his as I started coming down from my high. "Thank you," I murmured sleepily, my body lethargic and sluggish. I wasn't just thanking him for bringing me to orgasm, but for his patience, and for everything he had done for me today to help me overcome my insecurities and doubts, my punishment included.

One side of his mouth twitched up in a smile. "It's what I'm here for.”