My boy

I paint eyelashes carefully, looking in the mirror that keeps me my boy. Mirror in a heavy frame and it sometimes almost imperceptibly shakes hand. I do not hurry. You should not have come to him before the appointed time. He gently changing position slightly tired, my
Lapushka. What a beautiful, there are no forces.
I save the mascara, my fingers down his cheek:
- Kindly bring me shoes. I bought a new satin. You like red?
He nods, smiles and jumps. Flexible and slender as a willow twig.
- There, in the cabinet, the black box - I add.
Exit. Gait had an easy, fast. My Well you're lovely.
I hear in the hallway closet door is removed, something rustles. Look, look, my kitten, you will not find in fact, they do not try. No, I'm not lying, shoes really there, but that's a black box wrapped in the yellow-blue package, and stands on the top shelf under the scarf and scarves.
In the hallway something falls softly, softly cursing my boy and continues to tinker. I quietly sneak up and look out of the room. He is on his knees and frantically guts cabinet shelves around disclosed boxes of shoes, caps carelessly scattered.
- So-o! - I say a special voice.
He raises his eyes to me, already knowing how to set up. Hastily replied:
- Yes nonsense now take away.
I silently stepped over shoes, take the bag from the table. Deliberately slowly unfasten karabinchiki long handles. He follows my gaze hopelessly asks:
- Maybe we should not?..
I do not answer, down a narrow strap twice.
My boy bites his lip. All the same on his knees, unzips his pants and lower a little. He rides up on the shoulders of a thin T-shirt. Slightly tilted, resting his hands on the shelf. Waiting.
My lower abdomen throbbing hot lump. Swings and omit strap beautiful young body. And again ... and again ...
From light first strikes almost did not hurt, tested on himself. My little boy is relaxing and that's when I hit with full force. One, two, three. I hear how he quietly hissed through clenched teeth. If I could just cried my patient.
I make a break for fifteen seconds, giving him breath. Then again resorting to the strap. My boy flexes pain. I am giving up the strap on the bag, bend, and stroked it, the whole swollen lips. He runs up to me, pressed. His hands were already plowing robe under which to me only stockings with lace elastic, gently caress the skin. I feel like the stomach slides elastic tongue, and ... push him away.
My boy quickened breathing. His excitement noticeable to the naked eye, but he takes himself in hand, and asked almost calmly:
- Are you finished?
I nod. He rises, managing to even with his pants down to look young demigod, and informs:
- I'm gonna take a shower.
Constantly, the bastard, ahead of my orders. so, you see, is not so humiliating. Little did I pour him. I was lying on the bed in a relaxed, seductive pose. At the door, there's my boy. Completely naked, wet hair after a shower. The skin is light, only the face, neck and hands touched tan.
He once admitted sheepishly that his parents wonder why it all summer, even in the country walks in long pants and a T-shirt. I purposely left him a bright hickey just below the ear. Angry. Rude, left, slamming the door, he did not come back for two weeks. Finally arrived, breathed with the threshold prepared in advance: "Forgive me, please. I was wrong". Metering, his head bowed, his cheeks flushed and burns. I certainly did not show it, that everything inside is singing with joy, discreetly forgiven, and then just looked up, the boy became ill. Even the next day, could not go to school, I have lain. I was frightened, clucking over him like a mother hen, almost fed with a spoon. Reconciled.
My boy pours a glass of wine, bring to me. He sits down next to cheekily sticks to my chest. Oh, my naive thinking, escaped today Bashing in the hallway? Cant glass of wine is poured, leaving dark red stains on the cream-colored sheet. Indignantly breaks out of his arms:
- Let's see that's it!
He looks accusingly throws:
- You purposely ..!
- What's the difference, on purpose or not? - I grin. - The result is the same for you.
I got it. He says dully, staring at the floor:
- Well ... just ... Listen, do not like the last time, well ..?
I put my hand on his most intimate place, lightly clench your fingers:
- What did not like?
He closes his eyes.
- You know, I do not like it.
I'm stronger squeezing fingers, move the hand. Carefully watch, trembling eyelashes frozen on his handsome face.
- Then why you put up with? I do not hold you, go away, if you want.
Silent.
One day, when we once again quarreled, I already asked this question, treating bruises on his body. He then turned sharply, roughly pulled me by the hair and furiously said, "Yes, because I only have on you is, understand ?! If I could! .. "Pushed me again fell face in the pillow, his shoulders shaking. It was the only time I saw him cry.
I take my little boy by the hand and am bringing to the table. Shifts toward a bottle of wine, fruit platter, vase with flowers. I order:
- Facing the table. Hands pull. Feet wider.
I obey without question, and it seems even willingly. And what is it you smile, my darling? I decided that to be banal flogging, and even it you are able to endure without a squeak? Oh well. Hope on. Kapron ribbons, remaining still on school days, tightly bound his ankles to the table legs. Scharf pull together the wrist and secured. I put a mirror in front of him.
I stood so that he could see me. I extract from the pocket of his robe, and ostentatiously begin to pull on the right hand of a surgical glove.
And now my boy jerked. Himself to blame, there was nothing to remind about the "last time." I reset the robe to the floor and come up behind him. Silly me, why you're all tensed up, pulled off? I still do what I want, the only way you will be much more painful.
Begin. I see in the mirror of his eyes. he bitterly hates me now.
Behind the window the wind rustles in the trees, and the room only our heavy breathing, ringing slaps on the body, the creaking of the table. I wonder what will happen when I get to the limit of his patience? His dad, former fighters, and now silent alcoholic, has a gun. Partly deadly toy nice lying in his hand. We shot in the woods on plastic bottles. I shamefully smeared, he also did not miss once. There, in the forest, I flunked it on fallen leaves and did what my boy loves the most and least likely to receive. He often carries a gun with him.
I wildly afraid that one day it will stop the police.
My boy that has the strength to resist, compresses the muscles. I continue to squeeze into it. I looked at the smooth skin swollen crimson stripes. With his free hand stroking himself. Breathing hard, his mouth was dry, I was on the verge. To pile on top of him, the whole body be afraid. He writhes beneath me, moaning, and look to be discharged now. Another effort - and I'm inside. Fire someone inside me explodes and the body runs a wave of heat. Letting some poluvskrik-poluvskhlip, I dig into the body under my fingernails. Slowly I relax.
My boy finally stopped struggling, limp as a ball blown away. Luckily for him I'm too lazy to carry out long-planned experiment with a candle and rubber rings. How many times have you looked in the mirror, I tried to understand what he had found in me, worth all this pain. The most common, reasonably nice, reasonably far from stupid. Maybe we're both crazy. Taking off his gloves, I throw on the floor. I untie the shackles. He slowly straightens up, pours a glass of wine and drink in one gulp. He asks without looking at me ...
- Now it will be every time?
Shrugs. How do I know what I want the next time?
He puts the glass on the table with such force that the fragile leg broken. Grins wryly:
- Out of luck today. What now - to the wall, on the floor ..?
I push him down on the bed, next fall, the whole. I let him do with all that he wants his body, even helping, turn, bends. Earned honest. Poor guy.
When I come to his house for family holidays, his parents look at me adoringly. There I was nice, modest and polite. Allows him a command. He knows that retribution followed cruel, but can not deny myself this pleasure. His mom calls me "daughter", trying to get comfortable, to feed more tasty. I sometimes happens ashamed when I see how her son sitting winces in pain.
My boy is hugging me, tired and relaxed. For him, this half-hour "after" the most peaceful time. Gently stir his hair and kiss on the top of his head. Rest, my good. Do not think about anything. Forget what you have to pay for these quiet moments of tenderness. Now he does not forget to switch off your mobile. Once in such a comfortable time there was a jingle - came to him text messages. He stretched lazily, casually stroking my stomach. I read the message. Embarrassed, he looked at me furtively. I took away his phone. Letter was from a young lady. Hello, tra-la-la, I'll see you tomorrow.
- And how to understand this? - I asked. - You have a girlfriend besides me yet started up?
He not answered, frowning.
- No, too late to play in a silence - I have not appeased. - Tell me, what kind of girl, where it came from, whether you've been Think.
He remained silent.
- Oh, I do not zli me - I said gently. - The worst is in fact.
He got up, walked across the room to a chair thrown on clothes.
I waited.
He abruptly pulled out of the belt loops of jeans with a heavy buckle and went back.
I waited.
My boy threw a belt on my knees, lay down flat on the bed, put his forehead in his hands clasped.
I ofigela. He first did everything voluntarily and correctly. And yet ... His body humbly say: "Do with me what you want," and stubborn person says: "I still do not achieve anything." From the neck to the knees to buckle it left fingerprints. But he won - I repeat the question did not. Not ready to bungle it to death. He did not wear jeans, just loose pants. I do not read longer messages on his phone.
Navozhu order until my boy sleeps: picking up the pieces, shrink-wrap and hide shoes. I throw a glove with traces of blood. Finally I put on red satin slippers. I turned around. He stands in the doorway, watching me. Under eye shadows lay, bitten lips swollen stomach stood out on the blue bar on the edge of the table. What I creature.
- Give me a cigarette - he asks.
- Do you smoke? - I asked in surprise.
- Little.
He stands at the window and smoke, until I change the sheets stained with wine, blood, and others. He says without turning around:
- I want you again. What do I get for this?
- As always - I say. - A little bit of pain.
He turns, hands me a half-smoked cigarette. He already has two higher scar left nipple. I take a cigarette. He lays his hands behind his back. He is looking somewhere over my head.
- Why did you let me do this to you? - Sadly I ask. - Why am I doing this?
Again he grins wryly:
- Probably because you do not know how to love in a different way.
Delayed. I press the tip of the cigarette to his chest. He did not even move, only to suddenly pale and face are the drops of sweat.
I thought or had a gun in the bag today again?
Kneel, I caress his hands, lips, tongue. He is not ashamed to moan now.
Then he falls to the floor and said with a guilty smile:
- Something I suck.
I try to drag it on the bed. He hangs on to me, we are both almost fall.
- I'm sorry - he said, when I finally put him and lodge a blanket. - I did not mean to scare you. Then punish me for it.
- Fool, - I say, sniffling and wiping her eyes. - I'm no longer going to torture you.
He holds my face with his hand:
- Do not promise what you can not fulfill.
- I will try - I say uncertainly. - Listen, can cause a doctor?
- Yes garbage. I'm just tired lately.
I bring a first aid kit. I bandage on the burn. Forced to drink a couple of pain pills. Helping to turn over onto his stomach. I was treated scars from the belt. I notice how it stiffens.
- Then I am.
I continue not paying attention to his words. He shudders all over, but resigns himself. If it goes further, it will soon become very obedient. And boring.
At first he resisted even a simple spanking, angry, cursing. I liked it a little bend, allow yourself more, each time for fear that he will not stand and will take forever. I do not want him to give up too quickly. He seemed to read my mind. Suddenly it turns sharply, roughly knocks me on the bed, pressed his whole body. His hand on my throat.
It becomes scary, but I smile at him straight in the face.
- So-o! - I say. - Not very much, and you're tired, I see.
He let me go. Lays down, staring at the ceiling.
- Someday - says he is very quiet - or you'll break me completely, or I'll kill you.
- It will not soon - I console. - You have me strong.
I'm going to the kitchen to make us something to eat. In passing touch his bag.
Gun here.
Hopefully, if he's really going to kill me, it will be quick.
I can not stand the pain.