Best of 2017

by Alexa Riley

  "I'm sorry, Sir," she repeats obediently. She turns her head to the side and looks at me, those eyes that are bound to be the death of me staring me down with their sparkling brilliance. And then the little slut grins at me, a wicked little smile for a wicked little girl.

  "What a naughty little whore," I mutter, and with the snap of my fingers, her sinful thong falls to the floor, ruined. She gasps, and her intake of air turns into a long, sensual moan. "I haven't even touched you, and yet," I remind her, "You're already moaning like a needy whore."

  Her body writhes in my arms and I take my time putting my hand on her ass. She's so fucking soft, her ass bouncing as my hand comes down against it for the first time. She shrieks when I hit her, and as soon as my hand's left her butt, she arches her back and puts her ass up for more.

  "Please," she begs desperately, and I chuckle.

  "Is that so," I say. "Already begging for more like a real slut. We've barely started, Cara."

  "How many?" she asks, and I smooth my hand over her reddening ass. I better not think about her naked pussy on my knee, because I'll turn her the hell around and bury myself balls deep in her hole if I do.

  "How many do you think you can take?" I ask her teasingly, and she gives me a defiant look.

  "Fifteen," she blurts out, and I grin at her.

  "Good," I say sweetly. "Let's double it and see what happens."

  "But..." Her eyes are desperate.

  "Shhh," I say. "Every time I hit your ass, I want you to say, Thank you, Sir, may I please have another? Is that clear?" Her breathing's picking up and she's panicking, squirming needily against my leg. She wants to get off, but fuck me if I'm going to let her. "I said, is that fucking clear, Cara?"

  "Y-yes," she manages to get out.

  "Good," I coo at her, smoothing my hand down her ass again. She moans and I hit her, harder this time. She yelps with pain, but my hand comes down against her ass and I smooth the pain away with a gentle caress.

  "Thank you, S-Sir," she whispers.

  "And what else?" I prompt her.

  "May I..." I smooth circles down her ass and she moans so loud she could wake the dead. "May I please... May I pretty please have another?"

  "What an overachieving little slut," I praise her. "Making me fucking proud, Cara."

  I hit her again.

  And again.

  And again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CARA

  THE SLAPS of his hand across my flesh send me into a frenzy. By the time we've reached ten, I'm shaking, my whole body threatening to collapse in on itself, and yet he isn't stopping, and I know he won't for a while, and it's my own fault. I don't even try to comprehend what's happening fully because it's almost too much for me to handle right now.

  "Please," I croak. "Please stop just for a s-second..." Another slap shuts me up and I moan, long and slow and deep as he makes me stay still in his lap.

  "You said fifteen," Mason tells me darkly. "And I promised you we'd double that. Regretting your words so soon, little girl?"

  "No, I..." I feel tears pricking my eyes. I don't know whether it's because it hurts or because I'm embarrassed, and I don't really care, either. I'm humiliated, and I'm also dripping wet. The moment he lifts me off his lap, he's going to find a big wet spot on his trousers, and I'll want to die on the spot for it. "Please, stop. Please, let me go."

  "Does it hurt?" he asks me gently, and his palm smooths down my ass, massaging the tender and sore spots in long and soothing circles. I moan, and I'm too embarrassed to admit that yes, it does hurt, but it feels incredible at the same time and I don't want him to stop. "I'll stop if it hurts too much, Cara. I promise."

  "Y-yes," I mumble. "Please, it hurts too bad." It's a white lie, but I'm too embarrassed to keep doing this. My center is heating up and I'll die if I cum on his lap like this. I just can't let that happen. "Just let me go, Sir, please."

  Hearing the name on my lips makes him groan, and he rests his hand on my sore ass. "Alright," he says softly, and I let out a long breath of relief. "I promised I'd stop, but you said you could take fifteen, and fifteen it's gonna be. Are you gonna be more careful with your promises next time, Cara?"

  "Yes," I choke out, nodding vigorously. "I promise, I-I really do." I can't even understand the idea of a 'next time'. What we're doing right now, this spanking, is already pushing my limits so much I can't imagine anything as awful and delicious at the same time.

  "Okay," he says, and in a second, he's turned me around on his lap. Time stands still for a moment as I settle my back on his knees and his eyes bore into mine. I can see him like this, see his ridiculously beautiful face that makes me want to claw his eyes out for doing this to me. But he can see me too, and I become increasingly aware of my nakedness on his lap.

  "Please," I beg again, my bottom lip trembling.

  His gaze slowly roves over my body. He stops on my collarbone, going down hungrily and drinking in my tits along with my heaving chest. My hands shake with a need to cover up my pussy, but I know he'll just push them aside, so I don't bother. He groans as his gaze travels lower and takes in my flat stomach and finally, the shaved triangle between my legs. I'm breathing so heavily my back's arching off his lap, and his eyes are violating me, fucking me with their intensity. He doesn't touch me, but he really doesn't have to. It's still too much and I feel like I'm going to burst any moment now.

  "Luckily there are other surfaces for me to hurt," he tells me, and I whimper at his words. He grabs me in his arms and lays me down on his desk, my back flush against the dark wood and my legs hanging off, trembling and shivering as his fingers graze my stomach. “You should learn what happens to little liars, Cara. I know it didn’t hurt that bad.”

  "Don't," I beg him.

  "Don't what?" he asks me, giving me a grin. "Hit you here?" His fingers linger over my belly, traveling upwards. I hiss when he reaches the area under my tits, still covered by my pink dress. "Or here?"

  "Please," I choke out. "Lower, please."

  "Lower what?" he taunts me.

  "Hit me lower..." I beg, and my own words embarrass me so much I wish the ground would just open up and swallow me whole. "On my pussy, Sir." I can't stop the words from coming. I can't stop myself from wanting what I do from this man, practically a complete stranger. "Please, Sir..."

  He chuckles and his fingers go lower. "I won't be able to make it better, though," he tells me darkly. "It's gonna hurt, you know that, right?"

  "Okay," I say breathily. "Just five more, right?"

  "Just five more," he nods. "Can you take them, little girl?"

  "Yes." I may have overestimated my strength, but I'm going to stand up to him now. I'm going to prove I can take five more slaps, in my most sensitive spot, just to spite him. Whether he actually sees it as that is left up to my imagination, and he holds me down with a hand firmly pressed to my stomach, raising his palm above me. I squint and look away as the slap comes down and rings out in the office.

  He's gentler this time, and the sting feels too fucking good for me to stay in place. I squirm on the desk and try to get up, but he holds me firmly in place.

  "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asks me gently, and I give him an incredulous look. "Don't fucking test my patience, Cara."

  "Please Sir," I get out through gritted teeth. "May I please..." His fingers smooth the area he slapped and I gasp. "Please!"

  "Please what?" he demands, and his fingers stop rubbing, making me whimper in a frenzy.

  "May I please have another?" My voice is shaking and I barely recognize the tone. I'm scared, but I'm turned on at the same time, unbelievably turned on and ready for him to do more to my body. Still, when the next slap hits me, I'm unprepared, and a long moan is ripped from my throat.

  "Good girl," he praises me, smoothing down my hair. Most of it has escaped from my chignon now, and with a few simple motions, Mason undoes my hairstyle and my hair falls down in waves around my shoulders. "Such a looker," he tells me gently
. "You really are something, Cara."

  He hits me again and again after I utter the magic words, but he doesn't caress my pussy the way he did my ass and it's making me squirm with need under him. No matter how big of a jerk he is, it doesn't stop me from wanting his hands all over my body.

  "Only one left," he promises. "Are you gonna be a good girl and beg for it?"

  "Please," I whisper. "Please slap me again, Sir."

  "Right here?" He smooths my pussy lips with his fingertips and I gasp. His fingers part them and I hear my own wetness, making me blush deeply. I look away and blink away the tears of humiliation. "Shhh, Cara," he says gently. "It's okay, it's a normal reaction. I'll stop now if you want. Just say it."

  But I can't talk, I can't utter a single word. He sighs and it's the most awful sound, the most awful feeling in the world to know I've disappointed him. He moves his hand away and I grab on to it. His eyes are surprised as they lock with mine, and I guide his hand back to the heat between my legs.

  "One more," I say.

  "Yes," he confirms with a nod. "Only one more." His fingers part my pussy lips again, making me hiss as the air hits my wetness. And then he hits me, slapping the tender area of my opened pussy and making me scream and clench my legs. I really start crying then.

  Before I know it, he's gathered me in his arms and he's whispering calming, sweet nothings in my ear as he sits down on his chair with me in his lap. I curl up closer, needing the comfort of his presence and practically climbing on top of him. He keeps talking to me, sweet things I don't even understand because I'm so far gone. It doesn't even hurt, it's just so much to take in such a short amount of time, and the sheer desperation of having him inside me is almost enough to forget about my throbbing ass.

  He picks me up after a little while and carries me out of his office. I look up through heavy eyes as we walk down the unfamiliar hallways into my bedroom. He places me on the bed gently and I sob, softly and barely there.

  He strips me of my clothes and I barely notice, barely acknowledge he’s now seen me fully naked. Mason covers me up with the duvet, tucking me in gently and turning on a nightlight for me. "I hope I won't have to punish you again," he tells me, and I nod. I can't quite look into his eyes, but when he turns to leave, I reach out for him.

  "Don't go."

  He gives me a look full of wonder, like he didn't expect that. I really should hate him after he did, but a sick part of me - a big part of me - wants Mason to make it all better, the damage he caused himself.

  "Don't go, please," I repeat as he hesitates. "Stay here until I fall asleep."

  He seems undecided, but finally gives me a curt nod and steps towards the armchair on the other side of the room. I whimper, needing him closer, but he doesn't acknowledge it, and I somehow know if I beg him to come into my bed, he won't do it.

  Instead, he settles in the chair and I glue my sleepy eyes to him. The jet lag is finally getting the best of me and I know I'm about to pass out. Mason's heated gaze is fixed to mine as I slowly drift to sleep.

  I don't realize he's jerking his cock as he watches me, not until I wake up alone the next morning and remember his motions in that chair.

  AS I WAKE up the next day, the events of the previous night come trickling back and I find myself blushing as I brush my tangled mess of hair. I keep thinking about Mason, what we did in his office and how pissed my father would be if he got wind of what happened. But at the same time, I can't say I didn't like it. The feelings Mason evoked inside me are completely unheard of and I feel shy about reacting the way I did.

  But there's something else on my mind. As hard as I try to think about it, though, it keeps slipping away in favor of Mason and the punishment he doled out on me. Since no one has told me what I have to do today, I decide to take another stroll through the gardens and skip breakfast since it's already too late for that. I get dressed in a pink skirt with a white blouse on top, along with sweet little ballet flats. I fasten my favorite charm bracelet around my wrist and head out of the door.

  I keep thinking about last night and somehow manage to forget where I wanted to go. Before I know it, I've already ended up back at the secret garden I discovered the previous day. I sit down next to the locked door, my mind swimming with thoughts and something that happened here only yesterday.

  "Who are you?" My voice is shaky and I feel unsure of myself. He's handsome and about my age, and he just told me his name, but I'm too shocked to really understand.

  "Luca," he repeats, giving me a curious look. "Does that ring a bell?"

  "I..." I just stare at him. "It's me, Luca. It's Cara."

  He looks lost for a moment, but then his dark eyes start sparkling with mischief. "Cara," he repeats softly to himself, and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, making me look to the side, blushing wildly. "I see. And you're Mason's guest?"

  "Yes," I remind him. "I... I had no idea you would be here as well."

  "The surprise is mutual," he winks at me, and my heart pounds like crazy. I don't know what to tell him. The way he's acting makes me think he doesn't want me here, and it's odd after all the messages we'd exchanged. I still can't believe he's here, right here with me, on Mason's property.

  "But, what are you doing here?" I ask him.

  "I'm sure Mason will explain everything in due time," Luca smirks. I give him a doubtful look, inspecting him further. There is no doubt about it - he's a handsome man. But does he make me feel like I thought he would? Does he make my whole belly go aflutter with butterflies, does he make me feel like I'm about to pass out from the intensity of his gaze?

  I don't want to admit what the answer is, and I busy myself with blabbering about my home back in the States. Luca seems vaguely interested, and he chuckles a few times as I drone on and on. We start heading back towards the house together, chatting to one another.

  It doesn't feel quite like I thought it would. I don't feel... that connection I felt with him over our texts and emails, and I don't understand why. It should only be more special in person, shouldn't it? And yet, I can't seem to get rid of the awkwardness between us.

  "Am I interrupting?" A kind voice interrupts me, and I look up, startled from being so caught up in my daydream. "I'm sorry, Signorina Newton, I just wanted to check if you wanted some late breakfast." The man who drove me from the airport, I think his name is Filippe, is looking at me with an all-knowing smile.

  "Oh, no, that's okay," I tell him, jumping to my feet. "I think I'll just wait for lunch instead if that's alright with you. Where is... where are the others, Luca and..."

  Filippe looks at me funnily and grins. "They will be back soon enough. Do you want me to walk you back to the house, signorina?"

  "Oh, Cara is fine," I tell him with a smile, and he just looks at me, disregarding what I said. I step from one foot to another. "I think I'll stick around for a while. I like it here."

  Filippe looks worried for a moment, and it makes me curious. Finally, he speaks up. "I'm not sure Mr. Scott would like you being here, signorina," he tells me softly.

  "Huh?" I give him a weird look, unsure of what he's on about. "What do you mean? I didn't do anything wrong, I didn't..."

  "I know," he tells me softly, placing a hand on my shoulder and gently, but firmly, steering me away from the walled-in garden. "I just think you should talk to Mr. Scott before you come to this garden in particular."

  "Alright," I say awkwardly, throwing a look over my shoulder at the mysterious wall. I wonder why Filippe - and I guess Mason, too - don't want me hanging out here. I guess I'll just have to find out by myself.

  I talk to Filippe as we walk back towards the house, and he tells me a little bit of history about the building and the ground it was built on. I'm fascinated, and Filippe seems pleased by my interest in the property. He likes talking about it, I can tell, and I briefly wonder how long he's been working for Mason.

  The mere thought of his boss makes me blush, and Filippe gives me curious look as my words trail of
f into nothing and I try to hide my embarrassment. "Lunch will be ready in about thirty minutes," he tells me calmly, not showing a hint of unprofessionalism. "If you'd like, signorina, you can look at the library upstairs. It's quite the sight for sore eyes."

  "That sounds lovely," I say with a genuine smile. I've always loved a good book. "I'll be downstairs soon, then."

  He nods and disappears towards the dining room while I run up the stairs. The library's not hard to find, and it only takes me a few minutes to locate the beautiful room with tall ceilings, covered wall-to-wall in glorious books.

  "This is amazing," I mutter to myself. I head deeper inside the library and am about to burrow my head in one of the books, when I notice a door in one of the walls. I walk towards it curiously, and my hand checks the handle. It's unlocked.

  For some reason, I know I shouldn't go in there, but I can't seem to stop myself. I open the door, and I'm almost blinded by the wonderful lighting in the room.

  The whole south wall of the room is glass, and the light in the space is stunning. There are canvases strewn across the floor and leaning against the walls, some of them empty, some of them torn apart. An easel is placed in the center of the room, but I can't see the canvas on it without going around to the other side.

  Curiosity gets the better of me, and with my heart pounding, I round the corner and stand in front of the easel. The sight before me takes my breath away, and I blink several times before I can fully comprehend what I'm seeing.

  It's a painting, a beautiful one in so much vivid detail I can only imagine how much work and attention it took. A beautiful, young girl with blonde hair and orange flowers adorning her head stares off into the distance dreamily. I recognize her. I saw her in the mirror a little over two years ago at my sixteenth birthday party.

  A hand falls on my shoulder and I gasp loudly as strong, dominant fingers dig through the fabric of my blouse.

  "Disobeying again?" a deep voice asks me, and I look over my shoulder into a pair of dark eyes that will surely be the end of me.