The notification makes my heart jump.
It’s from Kirill.
I snatch the phone so fast I nearly knock over my juice box. The message is short, simple, and painfully vague…
KIRILL: I am safe, but very busy. I will be in touch soon, boy.
That’s it.
No explanation. No apology for disappearing. No “I miss you.” Just “I am safe” and “I will be in touch soon” like I’m some employee waiting for instructions.
Irritation flares hot and fast in my chest. I stare at the screen, thumbs hovering. Before I can stop myself, I type back…
TEDDY: WHATEVER! I’m done. DONE DONE DONE!
I hit send and immediately regret it… but only a little. The bratty part of me feels satisfied. Let him see how it feels to get a cold, vague reply.
I toss the phone aside and try to go back to Zelda, but my mind is whirring again. The peaceful escape is ruined. Every time Link swings his sword, I imagine Kirill’s strong hands instead. Every time I hear the soft chime of a korok, I hear his low voice calling me his boy.
I burst out of the blanket fort in a tangle of cushions and duvet, breathing hard. My romper feels too warm now. My skin is flushed. There’s a confusing mix of anger and arousal swirling inside me. Anger at how casually he dismissed me, arousal at the memory of him pushing me against that tree, spanking me,then dropping to his knees and making me cum so hard with his tongue and his fist working their undoubted magic.
“Stupid, bossy, mysterious man,” I mutter, pacing the living room with Brando still clutched in my arms.
The irritation only makes the ache between my legs worse.
I want him.
But I hate that I want him.
I want to be mad at him, but my body remembers exactly how good it felt when he took control.
I walk into my bedroom, heart pounding, and strip out of the romper. Naked, I grab the bottle of lube from my nightstand and the medium-sized butt plug I only use for special occasions when I just need that something extra. My hands are shaking a little as I coat it generously.
“Screw you, Daddy,” I say, my heart racing and my dick slapping against my stomach as it throbs and pulses.
I lie back on the bed, flip onto my front, and spread my ass cheeks. As I slowly press the cool, slick plug against my tight entrance, I imagine it’s Kirill doing it—his big hands spreading my cheeks wide, his deep voice commanding me to relax and take it for him.
“Be a good boy for Daddy,” I whisper to the empty room, echoing what I wish he would say. “Your butt is Daddy’s toy…”
The plug slides in with a stretch that makes me gasp. The fullness is intense and delicious. I give it a gentle tug, feeling the clench, then reach for my table tennis paddle from the closet—the one I sometimes use for exactly this kind of naughty self-punishment.
I push my plugged ass in the air, and bring the paddle down hard on my right cheek.
Smack!
The sharp sting makes me moan. I do it again on the left, harder. Then again and again, alternating sides, imagining Kirill’s hand instead of the paddle. The plug shifts with every spank, sending sparks of pleasure through me.
“Oh my…” I gasp, my entire body reacting as my tightly plugged ass grows redder with each swat.
My free hand slips between my legs, fingers wrapping around my swollen cock as I continue paddling myself. The mix of pain and pleasure builds fast. I picture Kirill watching me, eyes dark with approval, telling me what a naughty little brat I am for sending that “WHATEVER” message.
It doesn’t take long.
The orgasm crashes over me hard and sudden. I cry out, hips bucking into the sheets while the paddle drops from my other hand. My whole body tenses as my dick fires out its seed, the plug still deep inside me, my bottom hot and stinging.
When the waves finally fade, I collapse onto the bed, breathing ragged, skin slick with sweat.
For a moment there’s only dizzy bliss.
