Punishing Me (Shaft on Tour #6)

PUNISHING

Me

Shaft on Tour
Book Six

By: Cat Mason

Shaft on Tour:

Escaping Me

Facing Me

Chasing Me

Shafting the
Halls (A Holiday Short)

Fighting Me

All Rights Reserved. This
work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic,
photographic) in part or whole without expressed written consent from Amy Cox
a.k.a. Cat Mason.

This is a work of
Fiction.  All characters, organizations, brands, and events are either products
of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner.  Any
resemblance to actual events, or persons living or deceased is completely
coincidental.

Copyright © Cat Mason
Books 2016

First Publication: April
2016

Cover Image and Design
By: Indievention Designs

Editing By: Asli
Fratarcangeli

Flower Pluckin’ and
Heartbreak

Ireland

My
entire life, up to this point, I have spent fantasizing how this moment would
play out. I planned to fall in love, just like in the movies I watch, to fill
the empty hours. Every touch and every kiss would all be as perfect as it
always is on the big screen. I knew the moment I met Dominick, at the community
center where I volunteered, that he was different from the boys at my school.
He was interested in me for more than just to copy my answers on a quiz and he
made my heart beat faster simply by saying my name. He was sweet.

Daily,
he has gone out of his way to leave little notes under the wiper blade on my
car so I knew he was thinking about me. Every stolen kiss, late night phone
call, and secret moment over the last several weeks has led to this and I
couldn’t be happier. It is something out of one of my romance novels come to
life.

The
tips of his fingers are calloused. The sensation, as they run over my body,
causes me to shiver as he slides between my parted thighs. Everything about him
feels so good; I never want him to stop touching me. Settling himself above me,
he stares down into my eyes. “You ready?” he asks, flipping his shaggy, red
hair out of his eyes.

Licking
my lips, I nod. Lowering his body onto mine, he pushes the tip of his erection
just inside my entrance. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself for the bite of
pain I know is coming.
This is it. Oh shit, this is really happening.
When
I expect to become overwhelmed by the weight of him, my body welcomes the
pressure. “Do it, Dominick,” I whisper, forcing out the words that I know he is
waiting to hear from me.

The
pressure stings, tears burn behind my eyelids, and my entire body tenses,
causing Dominick to freeze. “Damn, you’re killing me.” Reaching up with one
hand, he brushes the hair from my face, the tender gesture makes me open my
eyes. “Relax for me,” he says before brushing his mouth over mine. “I’m gonna
make you feel good too, baby.”

I
knew losing my virginity would hurt like a bitch. I have heard some of the girls
at school talk about how important it is to ‘get it over with’, but the idea of
it being something on a to-do list was unsettling. I couldn’t see myself giving
something you carry around with you your entire life, and can never get back,
away to just anyone. I figured I, at least, needed to like the person before
asking him to ‘pluck my virginal flower’, as my mom referred to it.

It
took everything in me, during the fifteen minute talk she penciled in with me
when I was twelve, not to laugh my ass off at how serious and proper she was
attempting to be when I was anything but. Instead of scolding me when I giggled
and told her what the kids at school said, she nodded, handed me some pamphlets,
and left me to study them like there would be a pop quiz over breakfast in the
morning. Not that she didn’t care; she was busy. When you’re busy trying to
effectively run a clinical trial that could possibly lead to a cure for Cancer,
that tends to take priority.

Cupping
my breast, Dominick brushes my nipple with his thumb. I moan, loving the feel
of his hands on me. I focus on what he is doing to me, determined to enjoy our
first time as much as possible and lock away every detail in my memory. When
his mouth leaves mine and he sucks my other nipple into his mouth, my back
arches off the carpet and my fingers go into his hair, holding him to me.

“Mmmm,
Dominick,” I moan, causing him to smile against my skin.

“Can
I move now, Ireland?” he asks, his warm breath tickling my skin before he
circles my nipple with his tongue.

 "Yes,"
I breathe, sucking in a shaky breath

Slowly,
he pulls back and I almost lose him completely before he thrusts back into me
with a grunt. Burying his face in my neck, he breathes heavily as he moves
inside me, over and over. The movements of his body feel disconnected and
almost robotic. The initial pain I felt begins to dull a little and I wait for
it to feel good.

“Oh
shit,” he hisses, gripping my forearms as he thrusts deep inside me. Then he
stops. Dominick’s entire body stills. I freeze, terrified that I have done
something wrong and ruined everything.
Or that he broke his dick and I’ll
have to explain the ambulance to my parents…
This can’t be right.  “That’s
the stuff. Oh yeah,” he moans before sitting back on his heels.

Glancing
around the room, his eyes widen when he spots the clock hanging on the wall.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, staring up at him, unsure of what the hell just
happened.

Stunning
me completely, he stands to his feet and quickly removes the condom. I watch,
frozen, as he tosses it to the small waste basket beside my desk and shoves
his, still semi-erect, apparently not broken, dick back into his jeans. “That
was great, thanks. I’ll see ya around, yeah, beautiful?”

What?

No.
No. No. No. No.

Sitting
up, I wrap my arms around my knees and hug them to my chest, suddenly feeling
self-conscious about my naked body. “You’re leaving?” I ask, staring at him in
confusion.

“Well,
yeah. Did you expect me to...” Dominick’s blue eyes widen, his brows nearly
disappearing into his hairline. “Oh wait, you thought…” Holding up both his
hands, he takes a step back. “Did you think that we…” he huffs out an
uncomfortable laugh. “Look, Ireland, you’re great, really, but I thought we were
just having fun here. My community service is over after today, and so are we.
Nothing personal, but this is all I was interested in. You get it, right?”

“I’m
sorry,” I sniffle, pushing back the tears I don’t want to fall in front of him.
“I just, I thought you and me, you know?” Grabbing his shirt, he yanks it on
over his head before meeting my eyes again and I shake my head. “I guess I
thought all of this was about more than just sex. I expected my first time to
be… different… that’s all. To mean something…”

Something
flashes in his eyes, but just as quick it’s gone, masked behind a hard,
unreadable expression that is nothing but frigid. Leaning down, he brushes a
stray tear from my cheek. His fingers on my skin repulse me now, when moments
ago, I was begging for his touch. I recoil as if I’ve been struck, causing him
to chuckle. “Aw, don’t be upset, beautiful. This is how the real world works
sometimes. It’s better if you learn to roll with it now.”

“I
suppose next you’ll be informing me that I should be thanking you?” I snap
numbly as I grab the throw cover from the chair beside me and cover myself.
“Right, Nicky?” I ask, using the nickname his mother gave him, that he hates
with a passion, knowing it will piss him off.

“Who
needs gratitude when you can have self-gratification?” he asks, turning and
heading for the stairs. “Just use this to write one of those sappy love songs
or whatever.”

His
snide comment is followed by laughter that cuts through me like a knife,
causing me to clench my hands into fists. The moment the door closes, and I
know he is gone, I bury my face in my blanket covered knees. My anger and hurt
merge into one explosive, indescribable emotion. Tears spill down my face as I
replay the whole thing in my head, regret clawing at my throat with every
breath.

How
could I have been so naïve? I trusted him. I told him things I never told
anyone and even showed him the lyrics and poems I keep locked away in my
journal.

I
thought he cared about me, that he understood me, because no one else ever has.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. He simply saw an opportunity and used what he
learned about me to get what he wanted. I was played. Everything he said and
did was nothing but a way for him to get me to let my guard down enough to take
what he wanted.

This
is one of those moments the movies and books won’t be telling you about. They
don’t tell you about the sharp stings of rejection and betrayal after you have
laid your heart bare to someone who only pretended to care about you to get in
your pants. Another thing they don’t mention is that, just like your first kiss
and first love, you’ll never forget your first heartbreak.

The
worst part is all the feelings of falling in love with someone blinds you from
all the flashing warning signs. It’s easy to feel safe while riding on that
euphoric cloud nine. I wanted to believe this love I felt for him was going to
fix everything. That just giving my heart to someone else is the key to making
everything in life perfect. So while I was busy enjoying the feeling of flying
high on the chemical imbalance mother nature and her whores cooked up to fuck
with my rational thinking, I never saw the crash coming until it ripped me open
and has now left me bleeding as he walks away without a scratch.

“What
a damn joke,” I mutter, forcing myself to get a grip.

Angrily,
I brush away the tears and grab my black journal off the coffee table. Flipping
through the pages of romantic poems and lyrics I have written, for as long as I
can remember, I find myself unable to read them. The feelings that come with
them make my chest ache.

Finding
a new page, I begin scribbling as fast as my fingers can make the pen move.
Pouring everything I am feeling onto the page: the loneliness, the anger. I
can’t help the smile that spreads across my face as I fill a page with lyrics
different from anything I have ever come up with before.

The
rage that comes with hating him feels better than succumbing to the ache of
betrayal any day. I feed on it like a woman starved. Music and lyrics have
always been where I find my escape. Now, it will be where I find my solace and
strength.

When
I finally close the book and lean back against the side of the chair, I look
into the mirror on the opposite wall. Staring at my tear stained reflection, I
make a vow to myself. One day, I will play this song in front of thousands of screaming
fans. I’ll even thank the bastard for the reality check when I accept my Grammy
and leave him with his regret.