Sir

Penthaus Punishments

The rain pounded on the melting city, desperately trying to wash the sin out of the trampled streets. My arm extended from the doors of grand central as I felt the drops collect in my embracing palm. My umbrella shot to life, unruffling its vinyl wings and shaking the sleep off its hinges. As I walked down 42nd, my shoes tapped to the rhythm of the storm while my nose was caressed by the smell of the market, fresh loaves of bread lined up to be slit open, and all sorts of cheeses waiting to be poured over the severed bread, delicious murder. My feet suddenly pivoted as I was crossing Lexington. Like a school boy, I eyed the large building that loomed over me, staring down at me, secretive, mysterious, beckoning even. Sedating the fluttering umbrella, I entered the dark lobby. A distant ding rang through the halls as an elevator somewhere opened. The doorman sat at his desk, face silhouetted by the dim lamp that threw itself at him. His eyes were in one place but his mind was definitely in quite another. His throat, an old carburetor, sputtered as he focused his gaze on me. I nearly expected him to mutter “oil can,” but instead in a booming voice that shook his own frame, he said, “Welcome Monsieur, can I be of any assistance today?” 

To which I replied, “Fredrick, Fredrick going to the Penthaus.” 

His half smirk- smile grew even more, as I wondered, "how far will those lips stretch 'til they crack?" His hands fumbled for a phone hidden in the desk as his newspaper stained fingers carelessly pressed the buttons.

“Yes sir, Monsieur Fredrick. Right away. Yes sir, you too.”

The phone clicked on its receiver as the lobby man’s throat rattled and his body began to rise. He stood from his chair and walked around his desk, gesturing toward the elevator, my personal escort. I couldn’t help but notice his figure, that of a man caught in his 40s or 50s, a remnant of a younger man being dominated by the wear and tear he endured from his daily hustle. A sense of sleepiness intoxicated me by staring at him, one of those people who will drag you down with him. The elevator doors gently dinged and they opened into a long dark room. My eyes followed the wooden floors pointing to the window where I was met by a silhouette. Guy, Guy is his name and as he stood at the window, a Lenox glass filled with cognac in hand, his broad shoulders surveying the city that lay at his feet. I felt the door seal behind me and the drops of my crying umbrella on my shoe. He was a statue, sculpted for me, and as I stood watching him he said, “To the left, umbrella holder on the left.”

“Oh, ok.”

I lunged for the holder and dropped mine in, then took off my shoes.

As I walked toward him, I noticed a faced down photo that sat on the mantle with other knick knacks and frames of laughing fake faces, I knew what than photo was, and I dared not look at it. I was stopped midway through the room by his voice: “Take it off.”

“What?”

He turned to face me; his sapphire eyes killed me, his arms calling to me from his tight Armani sweater as he held onto the arm chair that stood in front of me.

“Take it off, your clothes.”

Taken aback, I started to fumble with my belt, ripping it off, unsure what I was doing.

He sat down in the chair, legs open, drink in hand, eyes intently watching.

“Slower.”

I had stripped down to my shirt, my tight underwear. and my knee high socks. As I knelt to roll down the socks, he commanded, “Leave them, come here!”

My feet shuffled to the chair as I stood on his left side, leg leaning against the cold leather arm of his throne. His rough manly hands traced patterns up my leg as he gently brushed my ass. Grabbing the back of my leg, my knee buckled and he kissed my leg. His lips sucked on the skin, eating my essence. His lips parted into a smile as his eyes stared into mine. I thought, “This is it.”

“Hello, Baby.”

“Hello, Sir.”

His arms grabbed my waist and pulled me onto his lap, my legs straddling the chair, my ass caressing his crotch. His arms wrapped around me, a boa about to feast. His eyes looked into mine as his lips locked with mine. The taste of liquor danced off his tongue, tracing down my throat, and my back arched forward as I felt his hand sneak down the back of my drawers. I pulled away to gasp for a breath. “How selfish of me,” I thought, and his eyes met mine again. There were no words necessary as my eyes whispered, “Take me. I’m yours.” He lifted my body as I dug my claws into his back, resting my mouth on his neck. As his feet padded the wooden hallway floor, his Bvlgari cologne entertained my pallet as I fell in momentary love. Opening the door, I was thrown onto the bed, his gaze hypnotizing me. My legs fell open as he began to crawl up the bed. The floor to ceiling window that made up most of the room cast a gloom over his dark figure, my panther. His shoes landed at the foot of the bed, swiftly followed by the pants, as his arms wrapped my legs and his lips seduced my inner thighs. My back shivered and moans escaped my trembling lip. He slithered up my torso, tracing my stomach with his tongue, lingered over my pouting lips, and sucked in my bottom lip. He raised his head for a brief moment and asked,

“You like that, baby?”

To which I barely said, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He flexed his chest.

“Yes, sir.” I smiled, as he tore of his sweater to reveal a smooth chest.

He lunged back in and sucked on my neck, his arms fixing off my shirt and underpants. I was naked and exposed and my body trembled under his massive heat as my legs clung to his sides. Again his tongue went to explore, jerking and teething on my nipples as his fingers entertained my ass. My head rolled back and fell to the side as my eyes briefly opened to gaze as the skyline. The rain stained the windows, droplets clinging to the glass. My head rolled back as his lips approached my ass. His hands held my feet as he pushed them back, spreading me open to have a taste of “that.” My fingers ran through his hair and pushed him in deeper. My lips hung open as I gasped “Daddy.” His eyes were open, he stared into my soul, he knew I was his. He turned me over. I was a pancake in his skillet. The bed grunted as it caught my flying body. His arm reached over to the night stand and pulled out a brown bottle. 

Face down in the pillows, I heard the plastic cap twist off the glass bottle, then a long sniff and a deep exhale. His body laid down, covering mine as his erect shaft rested in the crevice of my ass. He reached his arm around and I knew what to do. I covered one nostril and inhaled the fumes. My head felt a bit light as my senses enhanced, he held onto his shaft as it started to enter. My toes curled and I grabbed onto the sheets. I could feel him taking over, I am his. With every thrust, everything was in a trance. I felt the vibrations from my head to my feet. His occasional slaps resonated through my thighs. 

His breath fogged on my neck as he said, “Oh god I love you.” 

His body sat up, still inside, and he grabbed the bottle for another sniff. I could feel his smile. The bottle came to me, and I inhaled so deep. I needed this, I needed him. He grabbed my shoulders and exerted his force, my teeth gnawing on the pillow as I suppressed my screams. Every sensation was growing as I felt my heart beat. I was frightened, but at the same time I yearned for more. Having him wasn’t enough, I needed him deeper, I needed him to feel my heart beat. His thrusts kept to the rhythm of the rain that tapped at the window, begging to get in. I numbed out the pain enough to think. I remembered the photo, and I remembered me. I have a boyfriend, he’s off at work, and what do I do? I go have an affair, but Luca never fucked me like this. That’s how he fucked his whores. I knew he wasn’t faithful, but I thought I was. Yet here I was, fucking a married man again. If only I could foretell the events that would unravel after I downloaded the dating app. “Curiosity” is what I had called it, just a way to see what’s out there, but it all happened so quickly.

The way Guy found me, it felt meant to be. Perhaps I was looking for someone to treat me, like me. It’s true that he fulfilled my needs, but it was the way he did it that brought me to my knees. For the first time in a long time, I suddenly felt worshipped. There was no love here or in my actual relationship either, but could this be something that would actually hurt Luca, the missing scale on the dragon’s chest? My silent pain, my secret revenge, am I truly this damned?

“Oh God,” I thought, “I am a wicked soul. I ought to be delivered to the devil for my sins.” My mother used to say rain was the angels crying. “Well, cry harder,” I thought. I deserved it. 

The pain came back and I understood what this was, my penance. I dipped down my back as his claws dug in. 

“Harder,” I screamed as I leaned in to take it. He went deeper as my tears started to cascade. They decorated the satin sheets, drops of remorse. Cure my sins, daddy, I need them gone. I loved this pain. I deserved this hurt for what I’ve done. My tears came harder as I felt a tremor. I suppressed my whimpers as my body started to tremble.

My body fell. My legs were shaking. The last few thrusts were heaven, a blessing. He rolled us over, his wet chest clinging to me, deep softening breathes on my back as we fell asleep. As my eyes closed, looking out the window, the rain had stopped, leaving a new sensation. The city aglow burned bright just for me, welcomed me back, filled me with ease. My eyes flickered as I fell prey to sleep, just me, my sins, and sir finally at peace.

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