Page 36 of Pierced

“What?”

“Cooiguadrnkowtrfust?”

“Jesus,” she says as she unfastens the strap, pulling the gag free. “What?” she asks again.

I spit a couple of pieces of plastic-y tasting ball gag from my lips. “I said, ‘Could I get a drink of water first?’ I’m thirsty and I don’t know how long we’ll be down here.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No.” I grin. Then I open my mouth again and say, “Proceed.”

I can’t see well enough to actually observe her frustration with me, but I can feel it.

“Pierce?” she whispers into my ear, leaning in close.

“Yeah?”

“This is not a game.”

“Oh, really? It’s not? Then what the fuck do you call it?”

“I call it retribution. I call it an agreement. I call it punishment. And right now, you need to shut the fuck up and take it.”

And at that, she slaps me across the face.

There’s a tense moment in which the air seems to stop moving. I can feel her holding her breath. I know I’m holding mine. The only sound is the low growl and padding steps of what is either an actual tiger somewhere down here, or an exceptionally realistic sound system.

I continue to have a lot of questions.

And then the most unexpected thing happens…

I feel the lingering burn of her hand across my cheek. The sting of her fingers making contact with my six-thirty shadow. The jolt of adrenaline that came of being touched so violently, from out of nowhere, and the flush of blood that accompanied it.

I don’t think I’ve ever been hit before. Ever. In my life. This is the first time I’ve ever been struck. By anyone. Ever.

I think I love it.

“Again,” I say, the heavy breathing of either her or the phantom tiger the only sound other than my half-yearning voice requesting another smack.

“What?” she asks.

“Do it again.”

“Pierce?”

“Slap me. Again.”

We look at each other for a moment. I can see the whites of her eyes, staring at me. I know she can see mine. I wonder if she can see the gleam in them. After several protracted breaths, she rears her hand back and does it again. She slaps me across the face. Harder this time.

But it’s not enough.

“Harder,” I say.

“Pierce…”

“Put the gag back in and do it harder.”

Even in the dark with her dark clothes covering her, I can see her chest heaving.