I obediently rise even though my feet are numb. Before I’m entirely situated, Mr. North is directly in front of me, hand between my thighs. He slaps my inner thighs, giving it a loud whack.
“Spread your legs.” He hands me a silver platter. A sturdy, heavy one that is nicely polished. It looks like something I would never be able to afford, which is almost everything nowadays. But, of course, I would never have been able to afford something fancy like this in the first place.
“Look at me,” he says with his voice barely above a whisper.
I raise my brown eyes and level with his blue eyes as best as possible, given that he is massive in height and muscle.
“Good girl. Do you like cats or dogs?” he asks me.
The absurdity of the question almost makes me laugh because what the fuck? But instead, I bite my lip as I ponder for a second. I've never owned either, but I’ve always thought that little kittens are super cute.
“Kittens.”
He raises his eyebrows, mocking me. “This doesn’t surprise me. Well, tonight, you'll be referred to as Kitten. Understood?
“Yes, Sir.”
He slaps my ass with the power to bring lightning from the sky, directing it to my ass cheeks. It jolts through me. I’m surprised, and the pain tingles throughout my core.
“That's for not saying Sir or Mr. North earlier when you answered that you prefer kittens over dogs.”
My mouth remains shut, the initial slap throwing me off. My nipples immediately turn to little stones. I know I'm already wet because, damn, no one ever surprises me. And Mr. North is nothing but surprises wrapped in a fancy suit.
Mr. North smacks me again, roughly grabbing my ass and holding it hostage. Again, I feel the stinging sizzling throughout my entire being.
"Do you want to apologize?" he smacks me again.
I hiccup a few breaths, "I’m sorry, Mr. North." I’m barely whispering.
A wicked smile plays upon his lips, "You will be."
My inner muscles clench, and a twisted desire burns in my stomach, trickling to my pussy.
He steps back from me, "Hold your hands out to your sides as if you're serving drinks."
I do as he says, feeling rather silly. And he positions the heavy silver tray in my right hand, retrieves an identical tray, and places it in my left hand. "Don't lower your arms. Don't drop either tray."
I nod my head in agreement. But, unfortunately, that's not enough because he gives the same ass cheek another smack. I nearly dropped both trays. "I understand, Mr. North."
"Good." He slowly wanders to his table, sits down, and drinks his champagne. At the same time, I remain standing with the trays suspended in the air.
Chapter 13
I'm sure a few minutes trickle past. I feel awkward as shit, and I tap my toes in agitation as I have no other way of releasing this tension that's building up inside me.
My arms start to quiver ever so slightly. My palms are sweating, as are my feet. Mr. North gets up and walks back to me, carrying the bottle of champagne I brought earlier during his meal, along with two champagne flutes.
I risk a glance at his briefcase only to see a handful of what appears to be clothespins. My grandma used to use the same kind when hanging her sheets to dry outside in the summer. The smell of sunshine and sunflowers and her musky rose perfume engulf me. I always loved how the sheets smelled and felt after drying on the line. It was a treat to help her hang the clothes because it almost always guaranteed a reward of vanilla ice cream afterward.
Mr. North places a glass flute on each tray and proceeds to fill them with an inch's worth of champagne. My arms feel like I'm holding fifty pounds. Adamantly, I try not to heave air out of my lungs. I'm trying not to convey my annoyance and pain verbally, but it might be too much.
"Do you want to go home?"
"No, Sir."
"You want the money, don’t you kitten?" he asks, playfulness tickling his tone.
"Yes, Sir," I allow myself a smile.