They slept, after that, and didn't wake again until almost noon on Sunday. Charity opened her eyes to find that Ryan had already risen. When she moved her legs, she realized that her pussy was sore--very sore. Ryan's cock… well, a dirty part of her had always wanted to be fucked by a huge cock, so she had gotten what she deserved, yet again, hadn't she? And the soreness--it was kind of like the spanking, as long as she didn't move too suddenly: it made her warm, yet again, especially when she remembered how insistent Ryan had seemed to be on making sure she would be sore, and would remember her first day as his girl--her first day of training--for a long time.
"How are you doing, honey?" Ryan said from the doorway. He held two cups of coffee. "I'm bringing you breakfast in bed--here's the beginning."
A rush of what could only be the start of love for him filled her heart. He probably didn't know exactly when to shift between "Sir" and "Ryan," but so far he'd come pretty darn close to perfection. Even the moment the previous night, when he had flipped up her apron and arrogantly started to play with her pussy hadn't really been a mistake, on that front. Feeling the beginnings of her bodyguard overpowering her resistance, holding her hand in place so that he could do as he wished between her legs, had been as arousing as any experience in her whole life. And his instant shift, his immediate retreat to "conventional boyfriend" behavior had demonstrated even more forcefully to her that she could trust him.
"I'm sore," she said, pouting as theatrically as she could.
Ryan chuckled, and brought her the coffee. "I kind of thought you might be. That's why you're having breakfast in bed, like an old-fashioned newlywed bride."
Charity giggled. "Do you like knowing I'm sore, sir?"
Ryan grinned. "Yup." He kissed her, tasting deliciously of coffee and toothpaste. "I'll go get the rest of breakfast."
Out at the beginning of February, I'm guessing.
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