Somewhere Over The idea was that he’d keep her up there like some Bleak House homage, the

Somewhere Over

The idea was that he’d keep her up there like some Bleak House homage, the sex toy in the attic, someone he’d come up and fuck whenever he felt the need. She was into it, and the concept made him hard. The only problem was he couldn’t keep away, the neglect falling into an overarching sense of overwhelming attention. She wasn’t able to feel forgotten.

It was her secret place, somewhere to be sent when she was bad, so that she could reflect on the decisions that had landed her there, and in so doing become a better submissive. Time to herself, to think and introspect, but it would be ten minutes, sometimes, less, before he came wandering up there with a flogger in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

The problem was she was too much fun, a big ball of entertainment that he could tap at any time to alleviate boredom, or chase away the encroaching ennui of solitude. She’d look at him for a few moments, and then come crawling over, literally, before his hand would slip through her hair. She’d dress up for him, spending more time thinking about the outfit than about the punishment that had landed her there.

Because it wasn’t a punishment, not when he treated it like that. Not when he grabbed her hair, shoved her face against the coarse wood of one of the cupboards and shucked her dress around her waist. Not when his fingers dug deep against her glistening cunt, sliding past those desperate lips and curling deep inside her. Not when moans echoed around the insulation like bats in a belfry, and not when he made her come half a dozen times before he descended back into the remainder of the house, a smug smile on his lips. 

She’d lie there, quivering and squirming, and the last thing on her mind was becoming repentant of her sins. If anything he was providing an incentive, a reason for her to transgress just so that he would finger fuck her to the edge of oblivion. Roughness as a way of life, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. She clamped her legs together and thought about the next bad thing she could do.