Short Erotic Fiction: The Neighbor’s Pet

When he heard the third cup break, he had had enough.

He stalked into the kitchen where his maid stood, nude, with the remnants of another wine glass shattered on the floor.  

“What the fuck, Erika?” 

She didn’t lower her eyes.  

Looking back, that should have been his second clue that something was amiss.

She looked at him with those big blue eyes, stepped over the broken glass, and said nothing.  

He caught her wrist as she tried to walk past him.  This shouldn’t be happening.  They were past this.  They were years past this.  

She glared at him.

He tightened his grip.  “Answer me.” 

Her eyes fluttered closed as a tiny pain noise escaped her throat.  “I need to get a broom, Sir.”  

“The hell you do.  Three glasses don’t get broken in a single day.  What the fuck is going on with you?” 

She wrenched her arm out of his grip and turned toward the broom closet.  

Oh, hell no.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her backward, with his forearm across her neck.  He squeezed, and as her movements became less violent, he slowly lowered her to the floor.  As he straddled her naked hips, he pinned her wrists to the ground above her head with one hand.  

She looked at him with a dazed expression, and the ghost of a smile warped her pouty little mouth.  

“You fucking brat,” he said, slapping her hard across the face.  “Is this what you want?” 

Her smile blossomed into a grin.  “Yesssss.” 

He hit her again, and again, watching her head snap back and forth.  “Little.  Fucking.  Brat.” 

She laughed, as tears flowed down her reddened cheeks.  

“You know, you don’t need to break all my wine glasses if you’re feeling neglected, you know,” he said, grabbing her by the chin.  “You could just tell me.  How long have we been doing this?  You’re not some newbie sub.” 

She squirmed underneath him.  “I’m sorry, Sir, I just…”  She closed her eyes, as the flush of embarrassment compounded the color in her face.  “You’re right.” 

“Of course I’m fucking right.” 

Her blush deepened.  “I need a beating.  Please.”

“Have I really been neglecting you, my sweet little slut?”  His grip on her softened.

“I’ve done nothing but clean your house for the past three weeks.  Like every other maid in this city.” 

“But they don’t do it nude, do they?”  He took the opportunity to pinch her nipple.  

“Yesss… I mean, no… they don’t.” 

“And they don’t crawl to sit at my feet to tell me they’re done, do they?” 

Her eyes looked glassy with unshed tears.  “No, Sir.  I’m sorry, Sir.” 

He bent down to kiss her, savoring the feel of her swollen lips.  “Don’t worry, you’re not nearly as sorry as you’re going to be.” 

She moaned.  “Please, yes.” 

He pulled her to her feet and spun her around, bending her over the kitchen table.  “Now, ask me the right way, Erika.”  His belt made a zip-zip-zip sound as he pulled it off his jeans, and he smiled to himself as he watched the goosebumps crawl across her skin.  

“Please beat me, Sir.  Make me sorry.”  She wiggled her cute little butt.  

Fucking Christ, the things she did to him.  

He chastised himself for letting her ever think that he didn’t want to mark that sweet skin, every time he saw her.  He wanted to beat it, bruise it, and make it his. His ears wanted to listen to her begging screams and her delicious cries.  

Fuck.   

“Oh, I’m going to make you sorry, slut.”  He brought the belt down against her ass, and she yelped as a thick red striped appeared almost immediately.  Her body filled his whole vision and his focus narrowed to the calm place in his mind where he went when he hurt her.  

They both needed it.  As one blow followed another followed another, the motion, her sobs, were like a balm against his agitation.  

It had been too long.  

She was right.  Maybe after they were done, and basking in the afterglow, he’d tell her that.

It had been pure chance that he’d realized who – and what – she was, in the first place.  She was just the maid.  A normal professional.  Like every other maid in the city, just like she said.  Until one day when she had walked in on him during what should have been a private moment between him and his computer screen.  

He could still remember the needy look in her eyes as she had seen the video he was watching.  It had been of a slave being trained, being spanked and fucked.  She had blushed, seeing the video and seeing his hard cock, but she hadn’t looked away.  That was the beginning.  

Years ago, now.  

He had trained her so well, and it hurt like a hot knife to the gut to think that he had made her feel neglected.  

He took that hurt and poured it into the strength of the belting. 

She screamed with the renewed strength of each stroke.  

She was his.  His to hurt, to train.  To love. 

His.

Her ass was a mess of crimson welts by the time he finished.  His shoulder ached, but he felt like that was his own penance.  There were places where the strokes were turning purple around the edges, and he traced his finger over them. 

She shook as she cried. 

He slipped a finger between her pussy lips, and they came back coated with ooze.  He brought them to her lips, and she sucked them clean.  “Have you had enough?” 

“No.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “No?” 

“No, Sir.” 

He took a step back and shook out his arm and took a breath.  “Needy little pain slut.” 

She wiggled that reddened ass at him again.  “Please, Sir.  Please, more.” 

The woman was insatiable.  He knew that.  Eventually she’d orgasm simply from the pain.  “Go get me the cane.  And be quick about it – I want to fuck that sweet little dripping cunt soon.” 

Photo by Dainis Graveris on Unsplash