Do You Have Any Regrets? Ch. 04

This version picks up immediately after chapter 3 ends. In the interest of making a happy ending for one of my most loyal readers, I have definitely given up the 99% true description on this story. This one is pure fluff. Enjoy!

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"So, what about you and me?" Do you want to give it a go?"

His words ushered in a new silence. He didn't just say that—surely. Blue steely eyes locked with my hazel ones like a hunter sighting his prey. I looked down, breaking my gaze from his.

"Lisa?"

I swallowed hard, almost choking on my chip. The logical part of my brain decided quickly that he didn't mean what I interpreted his words to mean. "Give what a go?" I responded lightly as the silence stretched far beyond what could be considered comfortable.

He looked at me as if I were a puzzle he was attempting to solve. "Us," he explained. Then, he attempted to elaborate. "You and me."

My heart trip-hammered. Part of me still discounted what he meant—in an attempt not to risk our friendship. "What are you trying to say, Chris?" my voice asked, anything but steady.

He reached his hand with its long fingers and covered my cold and trembling ones. His warmth seemed to seep into my bones. "Everyone already sees that we should be together, a couple. How about we give it a try?"

Outwardly, I tried to remain calm. If he's joking or intending something else, I wouldn't be able to "deal" if he didn't truly want us as a couple, or, worse, changed his mind. "You mean, you and me—dating?"

"Yes." No prevaricating. No confusion in that answer. Even as his hand engulfed mine in warmth, his eyes molded over my curves in a visual caress. "I've been attracted to you since I first saw you."

The waitress chose that moment to interrupt our charged silence with the arrival of our food. "How is everything?" she queried expectantly.

Chris murmured something noncommittal and then refocused his attention solely on me. "Lisa? What do you want?"

The part of me that had long held out hope and dreamed of this day beamed sunnily. "Are you sure, Chris? Because my answer is 'yes' if you are."

He slid his food to the spot on the table beside mine and slunk into the booth beside me. His left arm slid around my shoulders, and I felt the fingers of his left hand tangle in my hair, playing and tugging. With his other hand, he picked up a quesadilla wedge and started to eat.

Why my eye looked up at our waitress, I don't know, but she smiled and winked at me. I smiled back, sliding my hand up to my enchilada plate to start eating. The silence between Chris and me was now comfortable again.

It was a few minutes later when I realized that Chris had slowly, inexorably guided my head to his left shoulder using pressure from his left arm. I looked up at him just as he looked down. His eyes filled my field of vision as his lips touched mine. Our first kiss.

From a kiss's standpoint, it was chaste. His closed lips pressed into mine. It wasn't passionless by any means. My lips trembled beneath his, parted to ask a question, and he pulled back and nonchalantly took a sip of his Dr. Pepper.

I sat there in shock. My first kiss, and he seemed unmoved. He signaled with his eyes for the waitress to bring the check, and she did, sliding it to Chris with a knowing grin at both of us.

For once, I didn't make a big deal out of him paying the check. I was numb. What was it he wanted from me?

He stood, and I followed his lead. As he stepped close to me, he slid his arm half around me, more down my back, propelling me forward with a light touch at my lower back. As we neared the door of the restaurant, his hand slid lower, palming and then cupping my ass. Chris bent and whispered in my ear, his breath and lips tickling the delicate skin, "I love to watch your ass sway, but I've decided that touching it's my favorite."

His palm left my ass briefly, but, then, it reconnected solidly. I let out a strangled yelp at the deliberate spank. Every erotic dream since October slammed through my mind as those fantasies began to come true.

Chris growled—or groaned; I wasn't sure which. "That is what I wanted to do to that enticing ass ever since it tempted me on my birthday," his whisper rough.

I didn't say anything—I couldn't. All I could do focus on was not having my panties soaked with arousal, not melting into a puddle, and not begging him to do it again but this time "harder, please."

He took the keys from my listless fingers and unlocked both car doors. After he made sure I was safely in the driver's seat, he then slid lankily into the passenger seat.

When I reached to slide the key in the ignition, his hand covered mine, stilling it. "How about we be bad for once and skip class?" a hint of a naughty? smile played on his lips.

"Skip? Class? Why?" I shot back, aghast. This was not typical Chris-like behavior.

His hand slid down to my knee, scooting my skirt further up my leg, massaging my thigh as he moved it. When it was almost back up to my panty line (where it had been on the way to the restaurant), he paused, stroking my thigh to hold the skirt in place. "We need to talk about how we see our relationship."

He looked in my eyes, his gaze dark with hidden passions. My heart, ignoring the darkness, danced in my chest. Chris said "relationship," I mentally enthused.

"Where should we go, then?" I wondered aloud.

"My parents are at work, so they won't be home for a while," he ventured.

"But we have to go get your car from school," was my timid response, not thinking of what might happen if we were alone, at his house, without anyone else there.

He agreed, and I drove, letting our favorite light rock station fill our silence. When I turned the key off, I turned toward him. Chris had already removed his seat belt.

The turbulent emotion I saw earlier should have clued me in to what he was planning. Instead, when he swooped to kiss me, my mouth was open for his tongue.

This was the kiss dreams were made of, I quickly realized. At turns drugging and passionate, his lips feasted on mine. His hands came up to grip my head, not roughly, but, without mistake, my body knew who was in control.

And it was definitely not me.

One hand slid down my cheek, stroking my neck, before cupping a breast on the outside of my clothes. He had definitely noticed my breasts, and I reaped the benefits of that then. He petted, squeezed, and lifted each for his (clothed) inspection. He found my nipples through the thin sweater and the even thinner bra and pinched and flicked them.

His mouth swallowed my moan of pleasure from the light nipple play. Even though we were both still virgins, his mouth revealed that these kisses were definitely not his first. I vaguely remembered his ex-girlfriend as he pulled back slightly, his teeth catching my lower lip and tugging playfully.

Pulling away reluctantly, I took a break to breathe harshly. When I looked up, his eyes were examining me curiously. "Are you okay?"

My lips trembled into a semblance of a smile. "I'm great," I chirped. "Are you okay?"

"You know? I really am." He grinned his infectious grin.

"Are we going to be okay?" I asked, even more hesitantly.

He smiled, the supremely confident grin that only I was usually privy to. "We ARE okay." With that, he bent to cover his mouth with mine, voraciously, this time. Unlike his previous kisses, he slid his hand slowly beneath my skirt, pushing it up.

When his hand reached past the edge of my panties, I broke away. "Sh-shouldn't we get to your house?"

His breathing was no more steady than mine. "Yes, but I need to wait a few minutes."

Those who know me now would be surprised to see how innocently I responded to his (now, years later, extremely obvious) statement. "What's wrong?" I asked brightly inquisitive.

"I'm hard." At my very confused look, he explained, "You got me all worked up, pet."

Something in the way he said "pet" had me squirming in my seat; the part of me who had read works of BDSM erotica realized what the term meant. My mind careened in a million different directions. He had said we had to talk. Is that what he meant? That I would be his pet, in the D/s sense?

With one final brush of his lips, he left my car and loped over to his broke down special.

I followed him to his house a few miles away; I had never been there, but I had talked to his mom on the phone once when I called to ask Chris about an assignment for class.

He met me at my car door, and we walked, hand-in-hand, to his front door and then to his room once he unlocked the door. Inherently curious, my eyes darted around his room, cataloguing, memorizing. Like my room, Chris's room had been taken over by books. Books were everywhere: on bookshelves, on his bedside table, stacked up in the corners, and even a stack at the foot of his bed.

My brain stuttered and stalled at the sight of his bed because I could easily imagine him and me rumpling the sheets there together. Or, if his calling me pet were any indication, even more deviant acts.

As he sat down on said bed, he patted the quilt right beside him for me to sit. My heart thundering in my chest to the point that I could feel it in my throat, I sat and was immediately caught up in his embrace and pulled onto his lap.

"THIS is where you belong, pet," he said, a rigid resonance that I had never heard in his voice before. Chris's index finger tapped on my chin and then lifted it, caressing my lips with his for delicious moments before he lifted his head.

"Now, to talk about where I see our relationship going," he said, this time as out of breath as I was. Beneath my ass, I felt his erection lengthen and harden and point definitively toward my ass. When I "accidentally" wiggled on his lap, he groaned and popped me lightly on my upturned and exposed ass cheek.

That made me yelp, but when he rubbed the slight sting out, I purred beneath his touch. "You and I have some unfinished business," Chris stated with a grin evident in his voice...and on his face.

"Unfinished business?" I asked, not sure what he meant.

With a nod, he answered, "Uh huh. Your birthday spankings. You chickened out. As my pet, you will never be able to escape earned spankings. If you had taken them like a good girl in October, they would have been delivered over a clothed bottom. Now, you will experience them on the bare."

The silence of the room was unbroken, other than the sound of my harsh breaths from the arousal his words had caused. My eye lashes drifted downward, allowing me to view the books on his bedside table: The Loving Dominant and several other very telling titles.

Was I in over my head? He and I both loved to research, and Chris had obviously researched something that I figured held his interest. But was I ready to be the sub to his "loving Dominant"?

"What am I to do, Chris?" To my shame, my voice was breathy, betraying my arousal to him.

His grin now held more than a hint of darkness that bumped my unease up quite a bit. "You are going to drape yourself over me, face down on the bed...your ass raised on my lap. You are going to remain perfectly still, like a good girl, receiving your birthday spankings. You are going to say 'thank you' when I pull your skirt up and slip your panties down to your knees. You are going to say 'thank you' at the end even though the added effect of the thwacks may cause your gorgeous eyes to tear up. Is that understood, pet?"

"Yes, Chris," I breathed.

He tsked. "We will discuss the most appropriate way to address me during a session later." Chris slid his arms down my body, stroking over my curves almost regretfully. "Now, pet, time to accept your birthday spankings like a big girl."

With a less than graceful lurch, I positioned myself over his lap, ass perched up on his legs. I could feel him, hard as a spike against my already moist pussy. Tsking again, he positioned me to his liking: hands clasped together far beyond my head, arms straight with legs straight on the other side of his lap.

Somehow in just the positioning for an OTK or over-the-knee spanking that I had read and dreamed about—especially with Chris—I became mute. Chris, however, kept up a running commentary. "This is the perfect position to receive your birthday spankings. I don't know what I was thinking in October expecting you to bend over the table. No wonder you refused. All of those people? A pet's first spanking from her Dom should be given in private."

My mind registered a few things from it. Obviously, his calling me "pet" was intentional, not a careless nickname. My FIRST spanking? Her Dom? I would have risen in alarm—and desires and daydreams realized—had he not been running gentle massaging hands down my back, on my ass, and own to my knees on my thighs. My skin began to tingle beneath his touch.

Everything in the good girl part of me screamed when he lifted up my black skirt, flipping it completely over my ass. No man had ever seen just my panties, and the fact that it was Chris was kind of an out-of-body experience. His hand rested caressingly on my panty-covered twin globes.

"If you want me to stop, if you simply cannot take it, I want you to say 'green tea.' That will be our safe phrase. I'm not going to gag you because I want to hear your reactions for all twenty-three swats."

"Twenty-three?" I started to get up in alarm, but his hand stayed me. What really stopped me was his sliding fingers that breached beneath my panty line and tickled the bare skin beneath.

His answer was a chuckle. "Yes, pet, twenty-three. That's twenty-two and one to grow on. That should be plenty, unless you become bratty and need a few punishment swats with the belt."

"Th-th-the belt?" I couldn't even get the words out.

"Yes, pet. The belt. Bad girls get the belt when they are punished. Now, I believe I said this spanking would be on the bare." He suited his words to actions by hooking my panties with one finger and slowly but unceremoniously pulling them down until they reached my knees.

I had never been naked in front of a man my age before. I had never been bare arsed. And here I was, bare assed and ready to receive the most sensual of birthday spankings. I knew that, at the end of these spankings, my life would never be the same again.

My flushed, blushing cheeks buried into the quilt. I breathed in; I could smell his scent. "I don't expect you to count. I will do so for you. I want you to focus instead on savoring each sensation of pleasure-pain, my sweet little masochist."

Thankfully, my already blushing face was hidden, for when he called me his sweet little masochist, my cheeks were on fire.

When he lifted his hand, I almost moaned in frustration, missing the slow tender circles he had been rubbing on my bare ass. As his hand connected with my ass in a wickedly hard smack on my left ass cheek, I yelped and jumped—and tried to get up. "One. No, no, pet. You don't get to get up. We've only just begun."

The sting was indescribable. As a girl growing up, I was truly good, and had never really earned a spanking. The threat was enough to make me behave. Now, as I felt the volley of the next few smacks, hard, stinging smacks that landed solidly with my now dancing red ass cheeks.

I hollered after the tenth one. There was no way to hold back the holler. His hands hit low on my ass where my pussy joined my quivering butt.

The fifteenth elicited sobbing and tears from me. My ass felt literally on fire. There didn't seem to be an end in sight.

At twenty, I was a mewling mass of goo. Both ends of me leaked (my eyes a never-ending stream of tears and my pussy with juices) when he paused to rub and soothe for a minute. "Now, pet, you've been such a good girl taking your birthday spanks like a champ. Just three more. Two will be the hardest you've had so far on that lovely red bottom. The 'one to grow on' will be administered to that sweet area between your thighs that's been gushing with approval since I started."

The last two were in quick succession right on my sit spot. Because he had paused, my body had started to feel everything even more fully, so the last two were extra painful. I howled like a trapped, injured animal.

"Now," Chris directed, his tone businesslike, "I need you to lie down against the pillows on the bed, on your back. I need you to lift up your knees and spread your legs for your one to grow on." When I appeared to balk at being so exposed, he held up a hand to silence me. "You have a choice. Three actually. You can say 'green tea,' and I stop now. You can quiet down RIGHT NOW and take that thwack on your pussy like a good girl. Or you can continue on with your whining, and I will figure out if I use my belt or a ruler there instead."

I quietened down instantly as he knew I would. Shuffling, again without much grace to the position he directed, I closed my eyes in shame to be so revealed to him. My burning, raw ass protested being sat upon; waves of scorching dizzying pain made me whimper.

Realizing that my panties inhibited his commands, he slid them the rest of the way off. Then, he positioned me a bit closer to his liking. His eyes never left my pussy, and I never stopped blushing. Not even when he took a gentle finger and traced a finger around my quivering wet pussy lips where they gaped. And especially not when that same finger stroked my clit until my whimpers became even more closely tied to pleasure.

And as he slipped his questing finger into my virgin pussy, I almost blacked out. I had played with my clit before; don't get me wrong. But I had not ever experienced anything going into my pussy. Ever! "So wet," he said to himself with something like wonder.

But soon, that nearly stoic mask of domination set over his features. "One. Just one to grow on, but you will remember this one, pet." His hand reared up and slammed down with shuddering accuracy. My clit took the full brunt of it; by pushing that secret naughty button, I convulsed beneath his hand, orgasming instantly.

As shocked as I was, Chris was stupefied. I guess I was even more shocked by his consternation. HE was the one who called me pet, masochist. Surely he could realize what that smack would do?

Satisfaction soon replaced the confusion. He pulled me into his arms and onto his lap, as if I were a child who was sobbing over a nightmare. With trembling, reverent fingertips, he stroked my still-burning pussy.

"Such a sweet, sweet pet," he crooned. "You took it so well. I'm so proud of you." Through this, his fingers petted and soothed my still twitching clit. Chris then guided me down to the over-the-knee spanking position and inspected my still-burning ass. I felt something cool and wet squirt onto my ass then shivered in bliss as it spread, to cool and soothe my enflamed cheeks. "It has a bit of peppermint oil in it to cool," Chris sensed my unspoken question. "To make my pet feel good."

All too soon, the soothing was over, and I was again placed on his lap and snuggled to him. He rested his chin on top of my hair. "And now, pet, we need to talk."

Those words shook me out of my comforted cocoon. "That sounds ominous."

"I feel better about it now than I did before your spanking," he fired back. "For a long time," he began, "I've known that I was different from most people. I wanted to inflict pain, physical and emotional, on others for the purposes of revealing masochistic feelings in those them. And then I met you."

His hands began stroking my back, shoulders to ass and back again as I focused on his words. "I'm a Dom," he explained, "with all that entails. I've been looking for a submissive to be the light to my darkness since realizing who and what I was. You are that sub. My pet. My masochist."

"What does that mean, for us?" I asked, afraid of his answer.