“What is it?” Artemis asked, gasping for air as he stopped to take a drink from his water bottle. “Should we train something else?”
“You’ll find it later,” I snapped.
“I think we need to work on this communication thing,” he said, gesturing with one of his filthy-sweaty wrapped paws.
My eyes twitching and my lip curling, I didn’t want to bite his head off—but I would, which might’ve been fitting since he hadn’t been properly punished for his earlier disobedience. “I’ll tell you later,” I said. “Keep punching.”
“I think I need—”
Slapping the file shut, I gave him a dead stare. “You don’t know what you need,” I said. “You don’t know what’s going on. You need to keep punching, you need to punch it for as long as it takes to create a permanent indentation of your knuckles.” It was impossible to do, but I was pissed—at who? I really didn’t know anymore, and I definitely couldn’t snap at Mercy. She’d have her wife use me as training practice for whatever laced bullets they’re practicing with in the armory.
“Got it,” he said before going into jabs against the bag again. There was something rhythmically soothing about the way he punched it.
He’d have to find out eventually, since protection detail was starting tomorrow evening. That’s when our client reached their appointed destination and would from that moment be under protection from us as they went about their business.
***
Artemis crawled over to me, fresh from the shower and dressed in gray shorts and a white tank top. His hair was all wet still, but he was being obedient. Sat on the edge of the bed, I reached out to him the way I would a dog, fingers beneath his chin just to tickle.
“Across my lap,” I said.
He slowly positioned himself across my lap, in a way we’d done before. His ass right there, and his cock—or something equally as hard in the front of his shorts rubbed against my thighs. He didn’t say a word.
I pulled his shorts down to reveal his thick ass, like two risen balls of dough. It was a credit to me for getting him to incorporate squats and other muscle mass making exercises in. As much as I didn’t want him here, and I’d tried everything possible to get him to quit—it was clear he was now in too deep. But so was I.
Stroking a hand across his cheeks, he clenched them, his abs tensing up as well like he was trying to do a crunch across my lap.
“I’ll tell you when I do it,” I said, both hands now cupping his cheeks. They were still the same ones I’d grabbed at and parted plenty of times before. “One for disobeying me.” I positioned a hand at the most fleshy part of his cheek,pulling away slightly, then going in. I left a sweet raw pink-red handprint behind.
“Oof,” he let out.
I went in for a second, or the first for the other cheek. “This one is for being impatient. You’ve always been impatient. I always thought it was sweet, but here, you can’t be impatient.” I went down with my hand, positioned just a smidge out of the handprint I’d already left. “And this one, this one is for not taking that cash and finishing your degree.”His cheeks clenched, sending my hands somewhat bouncing off it. It was unsatisfying.
Four was all I needed. His punishments were still coming in the way he was obedient for me now, making up for it.
“Have you learned your lesson?” I asked.
“Yes, Sir,” he said.
“Good. Now stand for me.”
He stood, revealing the bulge in the front of his shorts, being dragged down by them pulled back. He tried grabbed his shorts as I swotted his hands away to pull him closer. “Sorry,” he said.
I kissed his cheeks. Both of them, the same number of spanks, I gave them back with kisses, and rubbing my cheeks to them. Feeling his soft skin. And yet, I couldn’t get comfortable in it, I wasn’t supposed to be getting comfortable. I was supposed to be instilling complete obedience.
“You can sit,” I said, “on the floor.”
“Thank you,” he said, finally lifting his shorts. His hands carefully placed between his legs, not playing with himself, but also close enough to pushing his cock down that it might’ve technically counted as playing.
“I need you to make me a promise,” I said.
He nodded. “Of course.”
“This is serious. You’ve got to promise to be professional. No overstepping. No improvisation. No commentary at all.” I nodded to each point as he copied. “Mercy has given us a challenge, and I could do this on my own, but with you, the unknown, it might bring up some issues.”
“Bring it on,” he said with a smile, which faded. I liked to see his smile, but this wasn’t the time for it. This was the time for him to do what he’d signed his life away to do.
I grabbed the thick file from behind me on the bed. “Our next job,” I told him, opening it up, I pulled out a single page. “Maya Chen, she’s an investigative journalist, and she’s apparently being backed by some rich benefactor. We don’t have their name, but they’ve got a way into contracting through Sanctum.”
