“What they did?” Casey caught her breath.
“No. Something else, something that’s ours.”
“Will you spank me?” She caught her breath. Please.
“Yes, I will.”
“Hard, until I beg you to stop?” She felt a surge of arousal blast through her body. His eyes were making her melt. Don’t reach back. Lie still. We’re not done. If I have to warn you one more time, I’ll punish you extra. All of the dirty, wicked things from her spanking novels swirled through her brain.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you want?”
“Isn’t that what you like?” She looked at his face, trying to read his expression.
“Yes, very much. But I care about your limits, and what’s acceptable to you.”
She nodded. “I want to try it.” And she did. She’d thought about this for so long, and she needed to find out if it was something she enjoyed in real life as much as she did in her fantasies.
“Then, yes, I will.”
“Will you—make love to me, then, after?”
He stepped in and spoke into her ear. The feel of his hot breath on her skin made her moan, and he smiled. “Do you want me to?” His voice was low and sexy.
“Yes.” Her voice came out breathy. “Please.”
“Do you trust me to stop when you ask?” He touched her face.
“I think so. Yes.”
“Think so isn’t enough. You need to be sure.” He smiled. “And once you’re sure, then you can try to forget that you’re sure, and enjoy being a little scared about what I’ll do to you. A little anticipation and anxiety makes it more exciting.” He bent and ran his lips over her neck, so softly that it felt like air. “A little pain, Sofia, and a lot of pleasure. The exhilaration of not knowing what’s next, and accepting it anyway.”
She gasped and reached up to touch the side of his face, pressing her palm to his cheek. “And if I say mercy?”
“Then we stop. But you’re going to try not to say it, yes?”
“But—”
“No but. I’m going to read you as best I can, and you’re going to try and take what I do, as best you can. Together, yes? Like a dance. Mercy is only if it’s unbearable. I’m not going to give you unbearable. I’m going to give you something you dream about, Sofia, what you wanted when you decided to walk through these doors. If you trust me, put yourself in my hands, we can find that together.”
She nodded.
“When we talk like before, you can call me Hunter, when it’s conversation. When it’s dominance, you’ll call me Sir, or else I’ll punish you. Do you want this? A night with me as my submissive?”
“Yes. I’m sure.” She looked into his eyes. “I’ve wanted this since I first saw you. Sir.” Without warning, she went up on her toes and kissed his lips, a soft, short motion.
“Mmm,” he said, and his hand snaked out to grab the back of her neck. “From now on, you don’t touch me until I tell you so. Understand, Sofia?”
She blinked at him, felt his breath on her lips. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good. You’re going to obey me until we’re done.”
She couldn’t look away. “Yes, Sir.”
“I’m going to push you a little bit, and you’re going to let me.” His eyes were hypnotic. “Tonight I’m going to figure out what you love and what you don’t love. When you submit nicely, when you obey, you’ll get what you love.”
She swallowed hard and her pulse came hard and fast.
“It’s okay that you’re a little scared,” he whispered into her ear. “I like it that way. Your fear and your submission feed my soul.”
He ran his hand down her neck, and held his hand wrapped around her. “I’m going to take you into the other room now and put you over my lap,” he promised. “And give you the spanking that I wanted to give you last week. Are you going to do what I say?”
He waited for her response, a small smile on his lips.
“Yes,” whispered Casey. “Anything. Sir.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Be careful what you promise. I might take it. Come.”
He took her hand and it felt surreal to walk beside him to the small room with the spanking bench. But instead of having her mount the bench, he sat down on an ornate armchair. “Stand right in front of me, and take off your dress,” he told her. “Like you did for Alexa. Look into my eyes while you strip for me. I want to see your face.”
Casey jerked a nod and reached for the hem of the fabric, keeping her eyes on his. She could feel her face heat and her breathing came faster. It was embarrassing and exhilarating to strip again, this time for him. She glanced once at the door, even though she knew they were alone.
“No. Eyes on me only.” he ordered, and Casey stammered, “Yes, Sir.” When the dress went over her head, muffling her mouth for a minute and filling her nose with the scent of her deodorant, perfume, and sweat, she contemplated leaving it there. It was easier to be blind. But a second later the garment was off; she dropped it beside the chair, and stood before him in her black G-string and heels.
“Nice.” But his smile was anything but nice. It was dark, wicked, enticing. She parted her lips and felt her breath come faster, and watched his eyes travel down her body, lingering on her breasts, spending time at the v of her legs before coming back up to her face. “Now the panties.” He held out his hand.
She shimmied them down her hips, handed them over, and he tossed them away, his eyes on hers. “Come to my bedroom and kneel.”
In reply, she smiled and sank to her knees in front of him, placing her palms down on her thighs. “Command me,” she murmured, and looked up at him through her lashes. She made her voice breathy and innocent. “I’ll do whatever you want, Sir.” Please, God, let him do to me what Max did to Cassia. Not the belt, but the insane pleasure.
She heard the intake of his breath and smiled, dropping her eyes. There it was again, the power in the air between them. She was giving it to him, but in doing that, she also held it entirely in her hands. Just those little words, “I’ll do whatever you want,” had the ability to turn him on and make him look at her like that: wild, feral, and ravenous. How amazing was that, after all, to hold that kind of ownership in your own hands, your own voice?
“Good.” He stood up and walked around her, circling like prey, and she felt her chest heave with excitement. “Stay there, Sofia. Don’t speak until I return.”
He walked to a dresser behind her and opened a drawer, and her stomach lurched with anticipation as she heard a faint clinking. Then he was back. “Stand up,” he ordered, his voice soft and low. “Face me and give me your wrists. I’m going to bind them.”
“Yes, Sir.” She got up and turned to him, eyes widening at the cuffs in his hands, which were thick leather with metal buckles and rings. But she extended her arms despite her anxiety, and drew in a deep breath when he buckled each around her narrow wrists, tightening just enough to make them firm.
“Sit on the bed,” he gestured. “Your ankles, next.”
She nodded and walked over, testing the weight and feel of the cuffs together. They were thick, heavier than she expected, and in an odd way, comforting. They’d hold her down well and allow her to submit to Hunter. They looked rich and luxurious, well-made and expensive. These were no cheap toy ordered from a cheesy online sex shop.
He knelt in front of her and stroked his hand up her bare foot, up her calf, then encircled her ankle in one strong hand. “So delicate,” he mused. “You’re so soft, Sofia.”
She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing, but watched intently as he fastened similar cuffs around each ankle, buckling and checking. When he was done adjusting, he stood up and gave her his hand. “Stand in front of me. Tell me how it feels to be ready for bondage, ready for my hands on your body. Are you scared?”
She flushed. “A little bit, Sir.”
“Are you excited?”
“A lot. Yes. Sir.”
“Good.” He smiled. “Walk over to t
he dresser and open the second drawer. Take out the black wooden hairbrush. Bring it here.”
She gasped. “A—what? You’re going to use that on me?”
“Yes, I am. And you’re going to like it.” He touched her chin. “Don’t argue, Sofia.”
“But I—”
“It will hurt, but I won’t harm you. In here, with me, your obedience is required. Hesitation and arguments will result in longer discipline. That’s the point—the way I’ll train you to my desires.”
“What if I don’t want to be trained.” But a surge of moisture between her legs told her otherwise.
“Then you wouldn’t be here, would you?” His voice held a smile. “Fetch the brown leather crop in addition to the hairbrush. You’ll get a taste of that for arguing with me and forgetting to say Sir.”
Chapter Eight
“But I—” She looked at his face; decided not to push further. “Yes, Sir.”
She walked over to the dresser, in an alternate reality. The cuffs on her ankles jingled with each step and she felt like a slave girl in some old-fashioned sultan’s harem, and she liked it, even loved the feeling. The weight of the leather and the smell of it, knowing that she’d allowed him to attach these things to her body, made her more than excited.
When she returned, he simply took the items from her and put them on the bed. Then he sat down on a couch and held out his hand. “Over my lap,” he told her, and arranged her so that her buttocks jutted up, her hands and legs dangling. “Do you remember your safeword?”
Casey nodded. “Mercy.”
“You can also use red, if you like. Yellow to tell me to slow down, red to stop entirely.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He stroked one hand down her back, into the arch of her hips over her buttocks, and traced a swirl on her cheek before stroking her at the top of her thighs, just where the flesh started to swell out. Casey tensed, expecting a slap at any second, but he continued to touch, running his fingers down the back of her thigh, nearly to the back of her knees, then stroking her shoulders, her neck. She relaxed into his body, letting herself droop down and slump into his thighs, loosening her tensed calves and shoulders.
As he continued his ministrations, she felt her breathing deepen, and allowed her thighs to relax and fall apart over his legs. She felt his hard body beneath the fabric of his slacks; his iron thighs, his growing arousal. She fidgeted, moaned, wanting him to dip his fingers lower, between her legs. She moved them restlessly, wanting to tell him without words: Touch me. I want you.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Turn yourself over to me, Sofia. Trust me with your body.”
“Yes, Sir,” she breathed, nearly in a trance from his soothing voice and hands.
“Then we start,” he said, and he slapped her ass once, and again. They were light spanks, but not tentative, and Casey jumped at the touch before she realized there was no real pain, just a tingling sensation and a matching thrum deep in her abdomen.
He waited for her to relax back down. “More?” he asked, and when she whispered, “Yes, Sir,” he slapped her again, once on each cheek, and when she didn’t protest, he started a slow rhythm, spanking lightly but steadily, alternating cheeks, and changing the strike spot each time—sometimes right in the middle of each cheek, sometimes higher, at other times across the base of her thighs.
It was even more erotic than she’d dreamed; the sharp cracks of his palm against her flesh, her moans, his rough breathing—the sounds of it turned her on just as much as the feeling of his broad palm on her body. After a few minutes of the light spanking, she felt the tingle in her bottom warm into more of a burn; it wasn’t painful, but it started to sting. She gasped as he started to hit harder, carefully, but with more force.
“That was a warm-up,” he said, bending over, his head close to hers. “Now I start spanking you a little harder. We’ll see how you do with this, Sofia.”
His hand felt harder now, firm and solid, and she started to squirm under a new barrage of slaps. These stung. Each one came down hard, with a burst of fresh heat, and then the pain of the individual spank merged into the growing heat that lit up her entire rear.
After another few minutes she started to jerk each time he brought down his hand, and her vocalizations became louder, more pronounced, until she was hissing and moaning with each spank, trying to move her hips to get away from the assault. But she still liked it, wanted it: Each slap, even though it hurt, send a wave of arousal through her. And just the fact that she was lying over his lap, allowing herself to be held down and spanked, was in itself so very arousing that the pain only served to increase her passion.
“Don’t try to get away,” he warned her, and this sent a new spire of desire down her body into the spot between her legs, and she wiggled harder, feeling his iron-hard cock beneath her crotch. “Control yourself and accept this.”
“Yes, Sir,” she managed to get out, but then he gave her the hardest spank yet, and she cried out. “Ouch!”
He paused, rubbed the spot. “Starting to hurt a bit, Sofia?”
“More than a bit. It really stings. That one hurt a lot.”
“Good. Stay in position.” He raised his hand and slapped it down, and Casey could feel the difference. His palm felt like wood, like leather, and she cried out in surprise. “Hunter! Ow.”
In reply, he gave another hard crack. “Sir.”
“Sorry! Sir! Ow. Ow!” When he slapped again, she winced and tried to get away, but he held her firmly over his legs. “We’re not done.”
“But it hurts,” she gasped, and he paused, and stroked her sore skin. “It should,” he agreed. “That’s why we do this. As long as under the pain, you are feeling something else, too?”
He stroked up and down her body, as he had before he started spanking, and once again she relaxed into his touch, and this time he did duck one finger between her legs and rub. “You’re very wet, Sofia,” he announced, his voice rough with pleasure. “I can see it from here, and smell your arousal. Tell me the truth—do you like this?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “But it’s starting to hurt, and I think I want you to stop.”
“Do you?” He trailed one finger across her upper thighs. “Really?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but laid one hand across her buttocks, fingers splayed out, so she could feel the heat of his hand. Against her already heated flesh, it was both uncomfortable and erotic. “I think you want me to keep going.” His voice held a challenge. And when she didn’t deny it, he said, “And it’s time for the hairbrush. Unless you call stop, I want you to stand up and get it, then offer it to me. Ask me to spank you with the brush, Sofia. Ask me very nicely. And then I’m going to fasten you down to do it.”
She gasped, but he was already lifting her up, and when he sat her on his lap, she winced at the contact with the fabric. “Ouch.”
He chuckled. “Sore already? But you have more coming.” He gestured to the hairbrush, lying on the bed. “Think about that while you get it. Think about how it’s going to feel on your ass, Sofia.”
“I—I am thinking of it.” The brush was all she could see; it filled her field of view, and it consumed her mind. “I think it’s going to hurt more than your hand. Sir.” But she didn’t tell him no. She wanted to keep going.
“Oh, that it will,” he agreed. “But if you take what I give you, then I’ll bring the pleasure. A fair deal, yes?”
She sucked in her breath as his fingers found their way between her thighs. “Yes,” she moaned out.
“Do you like what I’m doing so far, Sofia?”
“Yes,” she murmured, tossing her head back onto his shoulder and opening her thighs, trying to entice him to touch.
“Do you like being spanked, being told what to do?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Good.” He put both hands on her hips and set her on the floor. “Get the brush. Now.”
She frowned at the interruption; his touch, combined with the sting in her ass,
had been magical, and she didn’t want to stop. But the expression in his face made her nod and say, “Yes, Sir.”
She bent over to pick up the brush, her cuffs sliding just slightly along her wrists. “It’s heavy,” she mused, frightened a little, weighing it in the air.
“Hold it in your hand, and bend over this bench,” he said, gesturing across the room. “Come on, I’ll walk you over.” He took her other hand and guided her across the room, and the warmth of his grip kept her centered, kept her from freaking out. She wanted this, but her ass was already burning, and she was a little scared of what he was going to do next. What if she didn’t like it?
When they reached the bench, she bit her lip. “Here.” She thrust the brush out to him.
He shook his head. “You hold it for now. I’m going to tie you down and then you’ll ask me what you need to say.”
He gently pushed her body, positioning her along the bench, and used black rope to fasten the rings in the cuffs to larger rings on the bench, until she was tied down fast, unable to move except for a small hip wiggle. Then he took the brush from her hand and she jerked when she heard him slap it against his palm.
“Sofia?”
“Yes?” Her mind was racing. Was he going to start?
“You forgot to ask me something.”
“Hunter. Sir. Will you please… spank me? With the hairbrush?”
When he spoke, his voice was even. “That wasn’t a very effective request. I’m going to give you some extra spanks for your lack of dedication. I’ll give them at the end, though, so you really feel it. Next time you’ll ask with more eagerness, I’m sure.”
She sucked in her breath and then cried out at the sudden contact of the wood to her skin. “Shit! Hunter. That burns. Ouch.” She twisted her hips violently to get away, but he brought the brush down again the same spot, making her wail. “God! Ouch!”
“My hand was nothing compared to this, am I right?” He spanked twice on her other cheek, making her try to pull away again. “People are usually surprised at the severity of the brush, their first time. It’s a painful little toy. So small, yet capable of delivering such—precise—bursts of pain—right—where I want them—to go.” With each phrase, he struck with the brush, firm blows, each making her whimper and tug at her bonds.
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