Including one face-less, humor-less dragon herself…
***
Saturday night rolls around and for the second week in a row, I waver between whether or not to hit the downtown bars.
Chris refuses to hang out any later than midnight, and the run-in with the Roofie/X/God-knows-what pill has me on edge about picking up any new women.
I could easily visit some of my old haunts—both women and pubs, but I’m over those scenes. I’m bored. I need something different for a change.
I pull out my laptop while in my bed, searching for any new Tampa bars, when I get pinged on my Skype.
I glance at the alarm clock near my bed. It’s past eleven on a Saturday. Who the hell could be hitting me up now?
I open the message.
Elle-Lexy:
Where are you? I’ve been calling your phone all night and getting no answer. I want to talk to you about the music for the party.
Elena. What in the world…? How the fuck did this girl get my Skype information?
I type a quick response.
LukasGriff:
Phone’s off. Chris has been a bug up my ass, and I needed the peace. And frankly, you’re disrupting it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
Elle-Lexy:
Fine. Have it your way. But you’ll be taking a chance on the music selection. If the whole night winds up being one big melody of One Direction songs, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Shit. She wouldn’t do that just to spite me, would she?
Yes. Yes, she would.
LukasGriff:
Jesus. No. Hell no, Elena. This is a party. A party. You can’t torture half of the guests.
Elle-Lexy:
No, I wouldn’t want to, but I’m getting overwhelmed here. So, if you want your crappy ass Coldplay songs to get included in the playlists, I suggest you find some time to discuss them with the DJ and me.
Coldplay? Who said anything about Cold…? Kat. Kat must’ve told her.
LukasGriff:
Fine. I’ve got a couple of minutes to talk. Go ahead.
I lean back against my headboard, readjusting my boxer briefs as I settle in. It’s barely 11:30PM, and already my night has gone to shit.
Elena and I manage to come up with a playlist for the party, and while the party is definitely a black-tie affair, we come up with enough lively music and classics to keep the event fun, but respectable.
The bad part of it? It doesn’t take a few minutes; it takes an hour, and I’m not even dressed. My Saturday night is nearly sunk. Of course, I blame Elena.
LukasGriff:
Looks like you’ve got what you wanted, Elena. You’ve fucked up another Saturday night.
Frankly, it isn’t all her fault, but I don’t give a shit right now. I’m pissed. And horny.
At this rate, it doesn’t look like I’ll get to fuck tonight—and I don’t ever go this long without fucking. Ever.
Elle-Lexy:
Oh, fuck your Saturday nights, Lukas. One night without bar-hopping and bed-hopping won’t kill you.
I freeze.
LukasGriff:
Care to tell me how you know so much about me?
Elle-Lexy:
I know a lot about you, Lukas. More than you think…
My eyes narrow at the screen. She’s fucking with me… and I don’t like it.
Elena seems to know quite a bit about me, and I know fucking zilch about her.
Is she blonde? Brunette?
What color are her eyes?
I try to imagine her face, her body. My thoughts begin to wander.
Is she petite? Tall? Curvy?
My cock twitches briefly.
LukasGriff:
I see…Why do you care?
I pull my laptop further onto my lap, watching impatiently for her response. A minute passes before she answers.
Elle-Lexy:
I don’t. I just want to make sure that I can count on you.
LukasGriff:
You can… as long as you don’t play any One Direction at the party.
Elle-Lexy:
I would never. Besides… Justin Beiber’s more my style.
I laugh out loud, shaking my head.
LukasGriff:
You’re really asking for it…
Elle-Lexy:
Asking for what?
LukasGriff:
It. Payback. Punishment.
Several seconds pass before she responds.
Elle-Lexy:
What kind of punishment?
The words catch me off-guard… and I shift uncomfortably from where I sit, staring intently at the screen. This is something I didn’t expect…
On the outside, Elena’s question seems straightforward, innocent—but there’s something deeper in the sub-context. Something darker. Something erotic.
The twitch in my cock becomes a leap, and the tightness in my boxer briefs turns from awkward into painful.
I pull on the front of them, shifting my hard-on to a more comfortable spot – as if that were even possible. I stare at the blinking cursor for several more seconds.
I go for it.
LukasGriff:
I’d bend you over my bed. Pin your hands to the mattress. I’d stand behind you and show you just how hard punishment can be when you misbehave…
I stop typing, and I can hear nothing but the sound of my own breathing as I wait for her reply.
I wait… and wait…
Suddenly, it pops up.
Elle-Lexy:
How hard?
My chest starts heaving the minute I read her words.
I take my dick out of boxers and palm it in one hand, stroking it gently before placing my hands back on the keyboard.
LukasGriff:
HARD, Elena. So hard.
I’d push your panties to the side and slam into you. I’d pump you over and over again until you apologized. Until your pussy couldn’t take anymore. Until you came all over my cock.
And even when you’d beg, I wouldn’t stop. I’d keep punishing you. Because that’s what happens to bad, disobedient girls. They get punished.
I finish the last sentence with one hand, using the other to pump a closed fist over my shaft.
I imagine that my hand is Elena’s pussy, and that I’m slamming into her again and again, punishing her for her testy attitude, for that foul mouth.