by Evans, Trent
The absurdity—and the shame—of the position was more than she could handle thinking about. Just the image of her, standing in the corner with her bright red bottom on display, shining like a beacon both made her want to curl into a ball and rub her swollen clit until she screamed out her orgasm. It was all so confusing, the feelings he elicited in her, as if he had more command of her body, of her reactions, even her emotions, than she did.
You’re hopeless, Amity.
She dropped her head then, resigned and ashamed, the tears threatening again—because she was unable to deny the truth anymore. No matter how wrong this might have been. Regardless of the myriad reasons why she should march out of that room and never return, it all came back to the same thing. She wanted more, needed more. So much more.
And she wanted him.
A gentle hand turned her, drew her by the arm from the corner. Her pants were in his hands, and he dropped to one knee, pausing a moment to look at her naked sex. She bit down a moan as he pressed a soft kiss to the silken curls covering her mound. She kept her gaze down as he took first one heel off and then the other, and helped her into her slacks. He rose to a stand as he drew them up, batting her hands away with a warning sound from his chest as he buttoned them up. He handed her heels back to her.
“What…?”
“I want these back on.”
“Oh… okay.” She stooped to put them on, but a hand at her shoulder stopped her.
“Turn around to do it.”
Oh, God.
She turned, bending over to pull the high heels on once more, the feel of his caressing hand upon her proffered ass making her blush burn anew, and her wet pussy clench in need. Not wearing panties had been a distinctly bad idea, as she imagined the mortification of a wet spot developing between the legs of her slacks.
He grasped her by the upper arms again, pulling her up and spinning her to face him, drawing her close. She laid her hands on his hard, muscular chest, as if to ward him off, protect herself. The steely bulge of his erection jutted against her belly. A finger raised her chin, and his intense hazel eyes bored into her, his mouth quirking as he regarded her. His thumb smeared the stickiness of her mascara across her cheek, and his eyes glittered.
“My God, these tears of yours. I think when you cry you might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
A fat tear slid down her cheek then as she looked up at him. “I don’t understand… any of this. Why I want this so much.”
His big arm moved around her, pulling her close, his other hand sliding low to cup and squeeze the weight of one of her buttocks, drawing a whimper from her as her swollen clit pulsed. She closed her eyes and sighed as his lips pressed softly to her brow. His breath was warm against her skin as he whispered.
“You don’t need to understand it. You just need to want more, to say yes.”
He pulled back enough to look at her, his eyes bright. “So what do you say, girl? Do you want more?”
His thumb stroked the corner of her mouth, and she turned her head to kiss it. Then she met his gaze.
“Yes, sir.”
He took her hand and turned for the door.
“Where… where are we going?”
“You’re coming home with me, Amity.”
Chapter Eleven
As he strode through the cool stillness of the nearly deserted parking garage, Amity in tow, Chuck Derrington’s words rang in Dane’s ears.
Many of us have other enterprises, other opportunities. And with discretion, with good judgment, those don’t have to be a problem.
“Oh, if you only fucking knew, Chuckie,” he muttered under his breath.
He looked at Amity, and though her eyes were wide, she smiled back at him tentatively. Her big breasts bounced fetchingly in the confines of her snug top as she struggled to keep up, hobbled as she was by those slutty high heels.
Dane loved that she had to walk fast, her gait mincing, nervous, just to match his long, relaxed strides. The clacking of her heels echoed off the walls of the garage, the sound so sexy, he wanted to bend Amity over the hood of a car and take her right there.
Something to look forward to.
There were a dozen reasons why this was a terrible idea, not least was the sword of Damocles of Chuck Derrington’s little visit, what it really meant. More a quid pro quo than a threat, Dane could still read between the lines quite well.
Do what I want, and you’ll be rewarded.
To get involved with Amity was flat stupid—and there was no getting around that fact. She wasn’t just his employee. She was ten years younger, inexperienced, naive, and totally unprepared for what Dane knew in his bones he really needed. The same thing that had run Steph out of town. He still didn’t think Amity understood what being with him meant. Eventually, she’d learn—and probably do exactly what Steph had done.
None of that shit mattered now though. What mattered was one thing.
He wanted Amity—and he’d fucking have her.
Too bad for Chuck Derrington that Dane had never been much for doing what he was told. He gave the orders—he didn’t follow them.
Dane opened the passenger door of his truck and hoisted her up. He got in and started up the truck, looking over at Amity, admiring her beauty once more, the pleasing rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she whispered, casting her gaze down, her lashes fanning blushing cheeks. “I’ve… thought about this a long time.”
What?
For the first time, she had him back on his heels. He’d wondered if she’d harbored any actual feelings for him, but had chalked up her motivations as obligation, nothing more. She didn’t want to be fired, and she didn’t want to go back to daddy. He didn’t blame her for that part one bit. At first, he’d just wanted to help her straighten up, learn a little something. The fact that he enjoyed it was just a pleasant bonus.
Those days were long gone now.
Dane reached out, cupping her chin, lifting it, his thumb stroking the perfect softness of her cheek.
“Guess you don’t have to think about this anymore.”
He scanned the garage. There were two cars other than Amity’s. The two women who worked for the janitorial service. Still, did he take the chance?
Be smart here, Dane.
“I need you to get down on the floor.”
Her eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open. “Um, what?”
“On the floor,” he said, backing the truck out of its spot. “We can’t be seen together like this.”
“But—”
“Do it, Amity.” He glanced over at her as he drove toward the parking garage exit. She looked down at the floor, then back to him, her brow furrowed.
“Come on.” He stopped the truck, putting it in Park and turning toward her. “If you don’t do it, you’re getting a spanking before your fucking—and I’m guessing that’s not going to feel very good after the paddling I just gave you.”
She bit off a sound of surrender as she reluctantly obeyed. He watched her as she tucked her legs under her, settling down onto the floorboards, her elbows on the seat. He stroked fingers through her soft hair, her little blushing smile making his cock throb.
“This is crazy,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Nothing crazy about doing as you’re told, Amity.” He held his hand up to her mouth, and she pressed a soft kiss to his fingers, her eyes downcast once more. “Good girl.”
Dane put the truck back in drive, pulling out of the parking garage and into the waning evening light. The sun was just beginning to drop below the overcast, golden rays of sunlight shining through a break in the clouds. ‘God’s eyes,’ he remembered his mother calling them when he was a young boy. They were a sign of good luck.
He hoped his mom was right.
Dane couldn’t help but watch Amity as he snaked his way through traffic, the evening commute just starting to wind down. He stroked her hair some more, moving down h
er back. Then he patted her.
“Undo your slacks.”
Her white teeth worried her lower lip. “Dane…”
“I want to hear ‘Yes, sir’ or ‘No, sir’ out of that mouth. If I hear anything else, I’m going to be adding to what you’ve already tasted.”
“Yes, sir.”
God, how he loved to hear her say it.
She undid the buttons of her slacks, those big brown eyes looking up at him uncertainly.
“Push them off your hips.”
For the briefest of moments he thought she might defy him, then she obeyed, her fingers shaking as she pushed the slacks off. He pulled up the back of her top to expose the white lace of the garter belt, the smooth creamy skin of her lower back. In her crouched position, the garters pulled tight over the outside curves of her buttocks, the white straps indenting the swollen, reddened flesh.
“Good girl,” he said, dipping a finger into the hidden, humid valley between her buttocks. The pupils of her brown eyes dilated even as her face flushed scarlet. “Now, put your head down.”
She buried her face in her arms, and they drove that way in silence, his palm stroking the heated, inflamed flesh of her bottom.
Finally, they made it home, dusk already laying its shroud over the evening. He pulled the truck into the garage, waiting for it to close behind them before saying anything. Then it was silent, the interior lights flipping on, then fading out until her luminous eyes peering up at him were all he could see of her face.
He opened the door and stepped out, reaching a hand back into the cab. “Come here.”
Amity sprang up onto the seat, making a frustrated sound at the slacks still tangled around her thighs.
“No, leave them that way.” He beckoned her with a curl of a finger.
She crawled across the seat, her fetching blush already bright, her gaze averted. She took his hand and he pulled her into his arms, Amity letting out a surprised yelp.
“I can… I can walk, you know.” Her pulse beat visibly at her throat as she looked up at him.
“Quiet, Amity.”
He held her tight, luxuriating in the softness of her thighs against his arms, at the way she laid her head against his chest even as her entire body trembled.
Dane took her inside and straight up to his bedroom, a part of the house he hadn’t let her see yet. It had been awhile since he’d had anybody up there.
He set her down on her feet, letting her look around, take in the room as he flicked on two of the overhead fixtures, muted yellow light washing the bed, the deep varnish of the wooden headboard gleaming. Dane sat down on the padded foot board, looking at the beautiful girl standing in front of him. She seemed almost paralyzed, her hands wringing in front of her, the pleasing V of pubic curls that sheltered between her thighs contrasting dramatically with the cream top.
Speaking of which.
“Take off your clothes, Amity. I want to see all of you.” He glanced down. “Leave the heels on.”
The bashfulness of her nod, the way she kept her gaze averted, made him smile. It was in her bones, he was sure of it, her need to submit, to surrender. All those times he’d wondered about her—even before she’d submitted to her first spanking—but it was so clear now.
The only thing she needed now was the right man to bring it out, to help her be who she really was inside.
She peeled off the top, the white lace of her bra matching the garter belt. For a moment she stood there, watching him. He met her gaze, waiting. She undid the clasp at the front of the bra, the pale pillows of her generous breasts freed as the lace fell away. Her deep pink nipples were already hard, standing up for him just the way he liked. His cock was screaming, almost painful. He couldn’t wait much longer.
He grasped her broad hips, loving the way her skin felt under his hands, as if she were made for him, for his control, for his lusts. The garters and dark stockings perfectly framed the alluring naked sex, his fingers tugging on a curl of the sable hair covering her mons.
“I like your pussy like this,” he said, staring at her sex. “So pretty.”
Even in the indirect light, he could see her bright red blush. He knew he’d never tire of seeing it.
“Dane, I…”
“Shh, remember what I told you, girl?” He met her gaze. “You chose this. I don’t want to hear anything other than ‘Yes, sir’ and ‘No, sir’ from you tonight. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He spread his legs, pulling her close so she stood within the span of his knees, her trembling body seeming to vibrate the air between them.
“Are you afraid, Amity?”
“Yes, sir.”
His hands eased around, squeezing her buttocks firmly, her body stiffening as his touch no doubt awoke fresh soreness in the still warm flesh. He looked up at her, catching her frightened gaze. “I like that you’re afraid. A little fear now and then is good for a girl.”
He touched her everywhere then, turning her this way and that as his hands coursed over every inch of her beautiful form, her sweet blush burning bright the entire time. Once she was relaxed, even leaning into his touch, he pulled back, patting his thigh.
“Over my lap, girl.”
Her mouth dropped open, confusion in her eyes. “I can’t take more. I’m so sore.”
“You’ll always be spanked before I take you, Amity. Get used to it. We both know you’ve done enough to deserve more, don’t we? But your paddling’s enough for now—if you’re good.” He dipped his chin. “Now, down.”
“So not fair,” she whispered as she clambered over his thighs, her arms reaching for the floor.
“When you agreed to this, you said goodbye to ‘fair.’” He adjusted her hips, raising her bottom up a bit and further lowering her head. “There we go, much better.”
Her soft buttocks almost vibrated with tension, the muscles alive with her fear, her anxiety at what was to come. She was blessed with broad, but still firm buttocks, a bottom one usually didn’t see until a woman was more mature. An ass made for his passions—lush, soft, vulnerable.
Mine.
It was the first time he’d thought of her in those stark terms, but it felt good, felt right—even as he knew there wasn’t much right about this entire mess. Desire never played within the strict bounds of logic or propriety, nor of right and wrong. It was forever striving, rebelling—and wanting more.
Dane’s cock was a pulsing, aching bar of need, pressed as it was to her naked hip, the object of his desire draped meekly over his thighs, the girl waiting, fearing, wanting.
Though he wanted nothing more than to give her a long, hard spanking, he wasn’t a cruel man.
I’m not sure she’d agree with that assessment, Dane.
Her buttocks were still swollen and very red, a thick band of darker marks congesting the skin along the lower curves of her bottom. She’d have some nice bruising from the paddle.
Rather than spank her though, he gave her a light tap with a palm, then a soft squeeze, knowing just that would be plenty uncomfortable. He fondled her bottom, kneading those soft buttocks in his hands, then tapping her a little harder, drawing a tiny gasp from Amity. He spread her bottom cheeks apart, and she let out a low whine, squeezing against his grip.
“You know better than that,” he rumbled at her, giving one cheek a sharp slap, making her cry out. “You hide nothing from me, Amity. When you’re being spanked or examined or touched, you submit to it quietly, obediently. Most of all, you do not clench that bottom. Understand?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
He watched her struggle with it, with that submission to his demands, the sight so sweet, he never wanted it to end. Her buttocks went soft in his hands again, and he cooed his approval at her as he drew them wide open, exposing the dark anus, the perineum, the bright wetness at her sex. He circled that tiny, tight opening with his finger, teasing it, a promise of things to come. He wondered if she’d ever been taken there, or if he’d be her first. If things went
as planned, he’d soon have her trained to crave being taken there, wanting that dark surrender that came with submitting that most private of places to the lusts of the man who held dominion over her body.
Dane circled his hands over her bottom in earnest now, feeling the heat of her punished skin, pleased to see her stay still for it. He knew even his touch hurt, but he also knew it awoke more than pain within her, her desire warring with it. He paused to ease her thighs further apart, the tips of his fingers gliding between the swollen lips of her sex, testing the arousal building within her, filling the room with the rich scent of her surrender. She moaned as he circled the hard bud of her clit, tapping it gently in time with three more light slaps to her bottom. He gathered her moisture, slicking her inner thighs with it, then squeezing her reddened buttocks again, enjoying the wobble of her generous flesh as he slapped them back and forth, his fingers leaving spots of glistening wetness on her soft skin at each blow.
Grasping her far cheek in his hand, he wrenched it away from its twin, and she stiffened over his lap. He plunged two fingers into her, and she moaned again as he found the firm, smooth cervix deep inside.
“Oh, fuck,” she whispered, her voice almost a hiss.
Knowing she was particularly sensitive there, he played his fingertips over the mouth of her womb, back and forth, until her hips gave a little buck.
“Please…”
“I want you quiet for this, Amity. Be a good girl. Very quiet now.”
He clasped her hip more firmly, searching for the spots on her bottom that didn’t yet have the color he desired, and smacking them until she squirmed and her skin flushed the required shade of red.
Then he let her lie still as he caressed the heat of her punished buttocks, easing his fingers up and down through her burning, sodden cleft, amazed at how wet she’d become from his treatment of her.
Dane loved this moment, when his woman had surrendered, her body—if not her mind—ready, open for whatever her master intended for her next. He let the tension build, knowing her keen mind, her active imagination would already be going round and round, the worry of what he had planned for her, spiraling her anxiety, her anticipation yet higher.
