“This is just the beginning. A little taste of things to come,”he said in a most serious voice. He repeated the pattern from onefoot to another, trailing the feather higher up her thigh eachtime.
Here, she’dbeen so worried! “Crispin, that tickles!” She laughed, tensing andrelaxing after each swipe of the feather.
“You like that, do you?” He gave in and smiled to himself.“It’s not all that bad, is it?
“No, it’s not!” She laughed again when he tickled the tip ofthe feather over her toes. “Hey? Don’t I get a safe word?” shecried out as he teased the bottom on her right foot, and then herleft foot. “Crispin…”
“Safe word?” He quirked an eyebrow. “I was under the impressionthat you didn’t know anything about this business.”
“I read books and watch movies!” She giggled, kicking at him.“I’m supposed to have a safe word, so you know when I’ve hadenough.”
“You don’t need one of those,” he scoffed, taking the featherand running it up her inner thigh, just under the edge of hernightie. “I decide when you’ve had enough.”
“Hey, that’s not fair…”
“Like I mentioned before…” He leaned over a bit further and ranthe feather up her other thigh, the tip flirting dangerouslyhigher. “Fairness has nothing to do with this.”
“Stop!”
“Hmm… all right then, if you insist.” He tossed the featheraway. “There, how’s that? Safe word enough for you?”
“Don’t do that,” she said, suddenly self-conscious.
“I won’t do anything of the sort.” He circled around to herside and sat down beside her. “You know that, don’t you?” he asked,touching his knuckles to her cheek. “I would never do anything likethat.”
“Okay…”
“Trust me?”
“Yes…”
“Right then, let’s test that theory,” Crispin said, walkingtowards the box. “Shall we?”
Chapter 21
With a dramaticsigh, he crouched down by the box once again. He then purposelytook his time, rifling through its contents. He took wickedpleasure in watching her worried expression at the sounds of theitems in question being rattling about in the box.
“Please, Crispin, I don’t like those things,” she pleadedmiserably.
“You didn’t mind the feather so much, did you?” He barelycontained his smile.
“Well, no, but…”
“I could just use this little whip,” he said, slapping into hispalm, watching her immediately tense at the sound. “It would be amost appropriate punishment for a little trespasser like you.” Hestood up and methodically stalked towards the bed, slapping itrepeatedly on his palm. Thwap… thwap…thwap… “What do you think?”
“No!” she cried, quivering everywhere, pulling at her handrestraints. “I’ll tell Kelley!”
“Kelley can’t help you,” he teased wickedly.
He sat down byher side then, and simply watched her. She was scared shitless. Itnearly broke him.
He could besuch a cruel bastard when he wanted to be. Life hadn’t exactly beenkind to him. He could honestly admit that there had been times inthe past when he could have gone either way.
Lucky for bothof them, those dark moments no longer haunted him, not since comingto reside at the House of Goths, and especially now since Becky haddarkened their doorstep.
Becky didn’tknow what to think anymore. This had gone far enough. How dare hetoy with her like this!
What was he upto? Why was just sitting there? And what of that horrible whip?Would he dare use it on her?
“Crispin?”
“Right here.” He chuckled.
“Okay…”
“Now tell me, dormouse? How many lashes do youdeserve?”
“None! Don’t you dare.”
“You deserve at least half a dozen.” He snickered.Thwap! He smacked hispalm once again. “For sneaking around, going through my personalitems, like a common thief.” Thwap, thwap,thwap.
Placing the tipof the whip against her cheek, he then ever so lightly gave it thegentlest of taps. “Bad girl…”
She jumped andlet out an involuntary squeak, only to feel him laugh so hard thatthe bed shook. Coming to the realization that her punishment hadcome to an abrupt and very anti-climactic end, Becky sighed withrelief.
He couldn’thelp but continue to laugh as he chucked the silly whip aside. Hethen leaned over, flipped up the edge of the sleeping mask, andlooked her in the eye. “Oh, Becky, you crack me up, you knowthat?”
Now he wasreally pissing her off, the miserable Goth. “Are you done yet?” shesaid, pouting at him. “I’m getting hungry.”
“Almost done,” he said, fixing the mask back over her eyes.“Just one last test of your trust.”
“But why?” she lamented.
“Think of it as payback for snooping around my room,” hesnarked, gathering the feather and whip, and placing them back intothe box. He then looked her over once more before leaving the room,making a show of stomping his feet as he descended thestairs.
“Where are you going? Hey, come back here!” Becky fought tofree herself but it was no use. “Crispin!” Was he just going toleave her there all afternoon, strapped to his bed? Realizing thathe very well could, she started shouting for him.
“Crispin! Crispin!”
“Right here…”
She startlednot having heard his stealthy return. When he sat back down on thebed, she couldn’t help but smell something delicious.
Crispin couldbarely contain his laughter, watching her nose twitch, the craftylittle dormouse. He then pulled the fries out of the paper bag anddipped one with ketchup.
Becky couldn’thelp but frown. He was going to eat in front of her and let herstarve! How cruel!
“Now then, do you still trust me?” He brought the fry to justunder her nose and waved it around.
“Is that what I think it is?” Becky asked, licking her lips inanticipation. He smiled as he plunked its tip to hertongue.
“Trust me?”
“Yes, Crispin, you know I do.” She laughed, chomping down on itas he slowly fed it to her. “Mmm… so good.”
Crispin quirkedan eyebrow. “That’s what she said.” He laughed as he ploppedanother fry in her mouth.
“Oh, you!”
In a matter ofseconds, Crispin had her freed of all restraints. He even helpedher to sit up next to him. “Now then, shall we go downstairs, andhave the rest of our lunch where you won’t get crumbs all over mybed?”
“I’m sorry, Crispin, for snooping.”
“Never mind. Just don’t ever do it again or I might just haveto increase your punishment.”
“I still don’t understand why you would have all those things.”She frowned, looking from him to the dreaded black box.
Taking a deepbreath, Crispin
