The Billionaire and the Wedding Planner

by Emily Tilton

  Maria saw the dominance in his eyes, which for an instant looked to her for all the world like the eyes of a wolf, and her own eyes widened at the sheer hunger she felt running from Jason’s body into hers, through his hold on her wrist.

  “I spanked you over your desk before, Maria,” he said softly. “That’s not how I’m going to spank you now. Have you ever been punished over a man’s knee?”

  “No,” she whispered. Not in childhood. Not in adulthood. Not by a lover. Not by a client.

  “We’re going to change that right now, aren’t we?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Yes,” Maria breathed, the submissive desire so plain on her face that Jason’s cock gave a leap in his pants.

  Oh, this was fun. He shouldn’t keep her up late, though, should he, much as he wanted to claim her with absolute authority and absolute completeness. Just a spanking, and a promise of more, he decided.

  But the dress had to come off, at the very least, so he could see what his stepdaughter’s beautiful wedding planner had on underneath. Jason surveyed the living room quickly looking for the right sort of chair and not finding it. The red velvet couch would do admirably, though.

  “Go stand in front of the couch, facing it, Maria,” he said, raising his voice a little to enhance the authority and watching the anxiety and desire chase each other across her face in response. “Then take off your dress.”

  “Oh,” Maria said, her mouth making a startled little O as she uttered the tiny sound. She didn’t move.

  “Go ahead, young lady,” Jason said, smiling a little at the universality of the trope, which he had used for Anne despite her being only two years younger, and now used for a woman fourteen years his junior. He grasped clearly for the first time that he really had been in search of a young lady with whom he could share his wisdom and the dominant side of his character.

  Maria blinked and closed her mouth, drawing her lips into a tight line between her teeth and lowering her chin so that she looked up at him from under her brow, appearing adorably shy. Into his eyes she beamed a wordless, little-girlish Do I have to?

  Jason looked back steadily, letting a slight smile play on his lips, and suddenly Maria lowered her eyes to the rug, her cheeks a little ruddy despite the alluringly dark skin of her face. He let go of her wrist and put that hand on her bottom, loving the cock-swelling feeling of possession it gave him. Gently he propelled her in the direction he had commanded, and Maria, with a tiny cry, obeyed. She went forward quickly, around her elegant Italian-tiled coffee table, to stand with her knees nearly against the sofa.

  He watched her hands start to go up toward the zipper at the neck of the little black dress, then hesitate. She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder.

  “Eyes front, young lady,” Jason said. “Girls who can’t keep their eyes forward get extra spanks.”

  Before she turned her face away again, he saw that the little-girl dimension of the scene had taken thorough hold of her: her lips made a definite pout of protest against his severity just before they vanished, replaced by the shoulder-length raven hair in its pretty chignon. She shivered as her hands completed their little journey to the zipper, and drew it down her back with a sweet litheness of limb that stirred both Jason’s heart and his loins.

  He stepped forward, seeing her start a little as she sensed his approach. “Let the dress fall, Maria,” he said, “and show me what you’ve got on underneath. I’ll hang the dress up for you.”

  He heard a tiny whimper break from her throat as her hands trembled a little, the left still at her neck and the right still holding the zipper. Then she started to shrug herself out of the dress, as Jason looked her up and down, admiring especially the way her low black pumps emphasized the shape of her calves and, above, the sweet firmness of her backside.

  The black fabric fell like a shadow of elegance, and Jason couldn’t suppress his smile, for Maria had on the same red lingerie she had worn that day at her office. The bra, at whose lace of course he had to guess, obviously matched a very lacy garter belt and very lacy, very skimpy panties, whose lovely ornamentation he could see from his very privileged position. The sheer nude nylons, with their tops marking the midpoint of Maria’s tightly closed thighs, framed the area to be punished and pleasured, with an exciting hint of capture and bondage.

  He bent to gather the dress. “Right foot,” he said softly, and the right pump came up. Then “Left foot,” and he had the dress free and unharmed. He rose, draping the silky fabric over his arm, debating whether the time had come to touch her yet and electing instead just to admire her for a moment and take pleasure in this very first stage of possession.

  “Hands on your head, young lady,” he said, stepping back a pace.

  Maria, clearly unaccustomed to this basic building block of dominance and submission, turned her face over her shoulder again, to look at him with wide eyes and creased brow.

  Jason spoke severely now. “Extra spanks for that. Turn around and put your hands on your head, Maria.”

  She obeyed instantly, twining her fingers across her scalp. Jason acknowledged her willingness to please, making his voice gentle again. “Good girl. Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

  He took his time as he found the bedroom and the closet, though. Maria would benefit from the waiting, as she processed the experience, and from the knowledge that he had walked boldly into her inner sanctum, which made him smile with its little touches of elegance: a red leather jewelry case on an ebony dresser, a black steel lamp in gorgeous modern Italian taste.

  When he returned he found her trembling, though the apartment was rather warm. Jason approached her slowly, loving the sight of her sweetly curving back and her pert bottom, so saucily accented by the red lace strip that barely covered the enticing valley between the taut cheeks.

  He moved the coffee table, then, to give him access to her. He pushed it to the side and watched Maria’s chin move as she heard the sound of the wooden feet sliding across the rug, as if she had to restrain herself from turning to see what had happened.

  Jason advanced the remaining yard so that he could stand just behind her left shoulder and bend his head to speak right into her pretty ear. “You look very beautiful this way, Maria.”

  He touched her, then, in the very same place where he had spanked her over her desk, but in a very different way. He held her perfect bottom in his broad palm, squeezed very gently, rubbed very softly. Maria moaned, and she bounced a little on her knees, as if to give him more of that special part of her.

  Jason let his three middle fingertips rub a little more firmly, then, just where her bottom and her thighs came together, as close as he could come to the place where she needed his touch the most without pushing more than a very little. To his joy, though not to his surprise, he found that she had grown very warm, there, and even rather wet to the touch, so that he could spread her arousal in a little circle and get the lace covering her pussy quite damp.

  “Should a girl about to be punished get so wet, young lady?” he asked.

  Her voice came out as a little sob. “No, sir.”

  “Well, we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?”

  “Yes, sir.” His fingers made a final circle, and Maria emitted a puppy-like whimper.

  Jason took his hand away. He sat on the couch, just to Maria’s right, and quickly reached up to take hold of her waist, turning her and then upending her over his lap. He moved his right leg to shift her across his left thigh, her face in the red velvet, and closed the leg over the backs of her thighs.

  Maria gave one little cry as Jason carried out this proceeding with all the dominant skill he had at his disposal, but when he instantly began to spank her, quite hard, though not yet with full force, she started to give forth the satisfying yelps that sounded like submissive music in his ears. Five hard spanks and the olive skin of her bottom, all around the naughty panties, had already grown a uniform shade of dark pink. Right on cue, Jason thought,
Maria’s right arm flew back to try to shield the backside he had immobilized over his knee. He took her wrist in his left hand and kept it atop the small of her back as he continued the spanking.

  “Don’t do that, Maria. You need to learn to accept your punishments.” Jason spoke conversationally, varying his spanks from side to side, and now increasing their force as Maria began to struggle in earnest against him. His dominant instincts told him that her attempts to writhe away from her discipline had started to take her into the magical space where she would yield herself to him, and the next step came with a completely natural flow.

  He stopped, and let her whimper for a moment, rubbing the warmed, elastic flesh very gently. Then, just as her little noises began to subside, he said, “I’m going to take your panties down, now, young lady, to finish your punishment.”

  The tiny underwear had of course been providing terribly little protection to her bottom; the true effect of pulling down the panties until they rested in a tangle restrained by her suspenders, mid-thigh, was in the area of humiliation. As he drew them down, loving the feeling of the slightly scratchy lace on his fingers, her little cry of submissive protest told him that Maria found the idea of having her panties taken down just as arousing as Jason found the act of doing it. There would be many shameful things to be done, with Maria’s panties down, and perhaps he would do them soon, but tonight Jason wanted to preserve the purity of her first spanking over a man’s knee.

  He paused for a moment, though, before he raised his hand high to bring it down on her stunningly beautiful bottom, where a very faint line, dividing one shade of pink from another, delineated the place the red lace had covered. “After I finish your spanking, you’re going to sit in my lap for a few minutes, Maria, while I hold you. Then I’m going to go. We both have a big day tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  He raised his hand, then, and brought it down. Once, twice, three times: center, right, left. Maria cried out, her head rearing back from the couch cushion. She gave one final struggle before relaxing completely with the final spank.

  Then, immediately, Jason lifted her up and gathered her into his arms, her panties still down and looking adorable around her thighs as he sat her upon his lap. He mused with a smile that she might leave a wet spot on his trousers, but he didn’t mind at all. He cradled her head in his right hand and drew it against his chest, still clothed in Oxford cloth and the silk of his sport jacket.

  “Maria,” he said softly.

  She tried, weakly, to lift her head from his chest, but he held her there, stroking her hair. At the same time, he moved his left hand from her hip to rest atop her thighs, frankly declaring the intention he would speak.

  “I can hold you here on my lap in a special way that’s just for good girls who have learned their lessons. Would you like that?”

  “Oh, yes,” Maria breathed against his chest. “Oh, yes, please, sir.”

  Jason’s cock felt as hard as a rock in his pants, and he felt sure Maria could feel it there. As he used his left hand to spread her thighs a little and make her pussy accessible to his caresses despite the way the panties, rubbing deliciously against the back of his hand, still bound her, he spoke again, but slowly and in a low murmur, to fill her fantasies as he soothed her to a climax. “Tomorrow night, when everything has finally grown quiet again in my house, you will come to my bed, young lady, and I will fuck this sweet pussy just as I please. Will you like that?”

  Maria cried out her answer as she came, squirming wonderfully over his hand. Jason tilted her head up and kissed her for a very long time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Quint woke up with an erection that nearly overcame his resolve not to jerk off the week before the wedding night. He had dreamt of Emily, doing exactly as he had told her with the purple vibrator, but coming, helpless to stop herself, and so earning a terrible punishment from her groom: his cock up her ass on her wedding night, while Quint taught her about her duty.

  Before he could dwell on the thought, or let himself indulge, as he had, falling asleep the night before, in planning exactly what mixture of sex and discipline would unfold in the honeymoon suite once bride and groom had made their way there at last, he got out of bed. He and his ushers had a run planned for ten a.m., and Quint was grateful for the excuse to clear his head of that wild dream, clearly brought on by some near-toxic buildup of sperm in his system.

  He had every intention of clearing that excess tonight and in the days and nights to come on Bermuda. The question of exactly how dominant he meant to be with Emily had occupied him on and off for the past few weeks however, and he had still come to no decision—except perhaps for a few moments, last night, kissing her in the moonlight, when his body had decided the matter for him, and his mind had articulated its complete compliance: I am going to possess you utterly, Emily Easton. I am going to claim you in every way. Your beautiful body will belong to me, tomorrow night and for the rest of our lives, and I am going to enjoy it exactly as I please, after I punish you thoroughly for making me wait so long, and for being so naughty.

  The last part, of course, Quint knew to be the sperm talking. He didn’t actually have a problem with how little sex he and Emily had had since the incredible night in her bedroom, the spanking and the vibrator and, best of all, holding her afterwards as she trembled in his arms. The one quickie in her kitchen, when she had given him that startled look as he raised her skirt and bent her over, and then bent her head toward the counter, lip between her teeth as he lowered her panties, had told him that Emily hadn’t forgotten or repudiated the submission she had yielded up to him the night of her first spanking.

  And the little tiff in the church, with the tension afterward, didn’t fool him into thinking she meant, truly, to take back her acquiescence. It had left Quint, however, with a problem and an opportunity. The problem lay in the need to help his bride stay in control of herself. It was Quint’s first time getting married, of course, but they had already seen how easily things could go off the rails. Emily had a great head on her shapely shoulders, but she might well return to her selfish ways today. If they were to get off to the kind of start, as a married couple, for which Quint hoped, wedding night discipline of some kind would have to be in his bride’s future.

  There lay the opportunity, as well. That first spanking, and the earth-shattering sex that had followed it, had made a start, but Quint could sense that Emily remained ambivalent about giving him everything in bed. They hadn’t had a chance to discuss the new expectations Quint planned to present to her—along of course with her expectations of him, for he longed to take care of her needs, sexually, just as much as he longed to make clear to her what he would consider her marital duties in the bedroom. That conversation would have to accompany the discipline, and the opportunity to get erotic matters off to a good start weighed on Quint’s mind as much as the problem of disciplining Emily appropriately.

  On their run, the groom and his ushers talked about the Red Sox, when they were talking at all. Quint liked to run fast, after a five or so minute warmup, and today he ran even faster than usual, around the Public Garden and up Charles Street onto Beacon Hill, as his best friends in the world struggled a bit to keep up.

  He could hear them laughing at him, as he powered up Mount Vernon, until finally his pace caught up with him and he fell back to close up their ranks.

  “Don’t leave it all on the road today, Quint,” Mike Dewars panted. “You’ve got serious duty to do tonight.”

  “He’s just trying to tire us out so we don’t go after the bridesmaids,” Louis Fredericks, a little less winded, put in. “No way I’m not going after Heather, though. Georgia told me about that vibrator.”

  Quint slowed the pace further, into the cooldown that would take them home to the brownstone on Commonwealth Avenue.

  “Have you used it yet, Quint?” Louis said, his tone positively wicked now.

  “What? The vibrator?” Quint asked, chuckling in a rather forced way
that he hoped his ushers would put down to the exertion of the run. “No.” The lie came off smoothly, at least.

  Georgia’s boyfriend Dave, on Quint’s other side, the one of his ushers Quint knew the least well but these days probably liked the most, shot him a quick glance, and as their eyes met Quint saw that Dave knew all about the night of the shower. Quint winked, and Dave seemed on the verge of laughter.

  “So Emily isn’t a freak?” Tom Sharp asked, sounding rather disappointed.

  “Well, I didn’t say that, did I?” Quint said, and left it there, so that all five ushers laughed.

  * * *

  They had an early lunch after their showers. The day had shaped up into a perfect midsummer day, all the trees of the Back Bay just passing the peak of their blooms and the air fragrant with the flowers. Any other Saturday like this, if he weren’t on the water, Quint would have been pining for the feel of the hull below his feet and the song of the brine under the keel. Today he couldn’t stop thinking of Emily, wondering how she had in fact handled his command the previous night and whether she were making the lives of her bridesmaids, Priscilla, and Jason miserable.

  She had tried to lay down the law—long before the dramatic events of the shower and the night that followed—about contact on the wedding day before she arrived at the altar. “Nothing. No texts. You send me flowers, and that’s it. That will make it special.”

  The two dozen red roses had gone out at ten, and Quint had gotten a confirmation from the florist of their delivery. Now, toward the end of the pleasant lunch of take-out sandwiches in his ancestral dining room, Quint decided he could at least take things a bit more under his control. He took out his phone and texted Emily, under the table, as the ushers chuckled at his expense.