by Susan Arden
“Noted.” I nodded, considering his preferences. He liked bows and lace when it came to lingerie but not closed pumps. I guess Mr. Gordon had a thing for sexy stilettos and even sexier lingerie.
I didn’t know what the rules were for free movement. “Do I have to stay here in this spot?”
He smiled and shook his head. “I’m not that anal—when it comes to what you can and cannot do. When I want you to remain still, I’ll let you know.”
My eyes fell to the padded cushion of a smaller bench positioned in front of a dressing table I hadn’t noticed until now. Possibly the only thing out of place in a masculine dominated room, and then I remembered, he’d more than likely shared this room with several women. He seemed to want things structured and organized, and I imagined that was true even if his hook-ups were short-term, as in overnight. The dressing table had two twin drawers with ornate hardware and a large mirror. A place a woman could get ready, stow her things, and I wondered how many had sat there, dressing for him.
I walked over to the dressing table, hesitant at first, then I touched the corner of the smooth-grained wood. The center panel was meant to lift and so I lifted it a couple of inches without considering what I’d find and lowered it, suddenly conscious of my actions. From the mirror I noticed him watching me.
“Open it,” he said, a smirk visibly curving his lips.
Oh God, I didn’t want to see inside—not with him watching and gauging my reaction. But I couldn’t decline and make my refusal appear seamless. I lifted the panel fully and inside where bottles upon bottles…virtually a mini-cosmetics store inside. I dropped the lid as though the wood burnt my fingers, uninterested in scanning the remnants from his other ‘dates,’ and the slam echoed in the room. I refused to meet his eyes in the mirror, my thoughts spinning as to why he’d want me to see this strange collection.
“Problem?” he asked.
“None.” I shook my head, unable to avoid him. A hot flush crawled up my neck as I lifted my face and stared back at him.
He glanced at me then down at the dressing table, and exhaled. “Shall I explain that whatever is inside was purchased for you? Would that wipe the look of distrust from your beautiful face?”
I rolled my eyes at the accusations that had so quickly polluted my mind. “All better,” I squeaked, my face blistering in having been caught red-handed.
“When you showed up with one slim suitcase, I made a call. Dressing table and contents delivered. You’re welcome. And consider that as the ten to grow on.” He walked over to a dresser, opened a drawer, and brought a bottle of lubricant to the night table along with a few items. “First, your lesson, which is becoming longer by the minute. Then, my pleasure.”
I sat and removed my shoes. “What should I do?” I asked, unsure how this was supposed to play out.
“Pull back the covers and sit on the bed. And wait.” He disrobed, his eyes glinting at me. He may have said he locked his room for security, but I wondered if part of the reason wasn’t so nosy staff couldn’t snap a photo or two of all the erotic gizmos he kept behind closed doors.
“Are we going to use all of these?” My eyes roamed over the various things he’d set out.
“We’ll see. For now, you owe me your ass. Lie down here.” He patted the side of the bed.
Fine. I’ve been through this before. No big deal. After I scooted across the mattress, he turned me over, and positioned my body before stepping away.
“Don’t be alarmed. The bed is going to move. It raises and lowers electronically.” I lifted my head, watching him walk over to the night table and press a switch. The bed smoothly ascended upward a foot, maybe two, and reminded me of being on an escalator. Graham returned to my side. He brought over a flogger with leather tassels, laying it next me.
“You just happen to have a flogger?”
“I wasn’t joking when I said I have an arsenal of equipment on hand. It’s never been used before if you’re worried.”
I’d seen the online version of a woman having her bottom smacked and didn’t expect to see one so soon. I went to rise, but he pressed his hand down on my lower back.
“Going somewhere?” he asked in a voice spun smooth as silk.
I glanced at the flogger then up at this face. “How long do these lessons last?”
He smiled and appeared thoughtful. “Until I’m satisfied you’ve grasped the concept we’re entertaining.”
“That could take forever,” I muttered. “Just saying.”
Graham picked up the flogger again. “Care to examine it?” He offered me the handle wrapped in black leather. I nodded, pushing up on my elbows and wrapping my fingers around the grip. It was heavier than it looked and smelled like new leather. I touched the knotted tassels, running my finger over the leather. Holy, holy, those were going to sting.
“You’ll count each time the flogger comes into contact with your lovely ass. We’ll start with ten, plus the extras just tacked on. Really, you deserve twenty for what you’ve done. From this point on during your training, for each act of discipline I intend on delivering, we’ll discuss the course of action I’ll take prior to its inception, and you must articulate your agreement. Not for me, but for you. Is that understood? There are no random acts in this room.”
What about kindness? I didn’t ask. Didn’t want to risk the wrath of Thor. “Yes,” I replied and handed the flogger back.
“Tell me why you’re being disciplined,” he prompted me, his cock swaying as he moved. He was so hard his dick hugged his belly. I stopped staring at his package and twisted my hands, forcing my thoughts to come together so I could say something intelligible.
“I’m to be punished for being jealous. Ten strikes. Plus ten. I count each.”
“You’re not being punished. You’re being disciplined. There’s a difference. I’m here to teach you.”
“Tomāto. Tomäto,” I retorted.
He arched a brow persuasively. “Come again?”
“I mean…” Yeah. Good one, Eliza! Him with his flogger and me with my bare ass. Not the time to argue semantics further. “I stand corrected. I’m being disciplined. Better?”
“I’m satisfied with your ability to choose the correct term. However, your tone leaves something to be desired.” He ran his hand down my legs, then spread my thighs wide open.
Instinctively I tried to close my legs and he grunted. “Really? Shall we go ‘there’ so soon? Mind me, baby. This is only the beginning.”
Message totally received! Only now, I felt even more vulnerable, because I was wet and visible to him. I felt his warm breath on my skin and glanced at him, his focus between my legs.
“I’ll work on it,” I whispered, needing him to keep touching me. My skin had heated under his fingertips, and now tingled in anticipation.
“Stop fighting your nature. Give yourself to me.” When he touched me again, his touch turned firm and possessive as ran his hands up to my thighs and over my hips, making a show of preparing my body. The forcible sweep of his hands over my skin boosted the sexual energy we shared. What he was doing came close to an invigorating type of Reiki massage mixed with Tantric touch, and had me arching my hips, yearning for him to do what he wanted with my body. He made me feel utterly feminine in my desire to sensually submit to him. In his bed, with his hands on me—this was what I craved.
“We’re about to start your training. I want you to trust me. Always know I’d never do anything to emotionally harm you.”
There was a bit of dark humor present. This was supposed to be aversive, but the fact that he had me hot and bothered contradicted the subversive aspect of punishment—discipline. I corrected myself and immediately grasped the difference. A light bulb experience.
“Jealousy has no place in our relationship—not with the things we’ll do together. If you question me about other women, I might never get any work done. It’s wasted time, and I believe we’ve covered my opinion on the matter.”
My ears pricked. His tone ha
rdened away the melodious voice he’d used to relax my body. He stood behind me, adjusting my body until my legs hung over the edge of the bed with my feet touching the floor. His firm but guiding touch kept me from questioning if I could do this. He spread my feet apart and pushed my shoulders down, onto the mattress. “Stay here. This is one of the times when I don’t want you to move. A lesson within a lesson. If you disobey me, then I’ll discipline you on a deeper level. I’ll shape each of these lessons to meet your needs. Baby, are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yes. I want this. Everything you’re offering.” The words came out noticeably jagged. Not a shocker when he walked to the side of the bed close to my face and knelt down, getting eye level with me as though he questioned my mindset of the moment.
He brushed back my hair. “Believe in me. I won’t give you more than you can take.”
I did and cleared my throat, and tried again. “I can take what you have to give.”
“I’ve no doubts about you.” He skimmed his mouth over mine before he stood up and walked to the foot of the bed.
Fully, really fully, I craved what he offered. I’d tried to assure him, without giving away where I’d found my confidence. The past. Nothing to boast or be proud of—
Suddenly, there was a swish in the air. My thoughts muted. I tensed, but nothing happened. This couldn’t be a fear-reaction. I closed my eyes, disbelieving that a flogger was going to have me coming undone and almost giggled as a weird form stress relief. I’d withstood much worse. I was being ridiculous. For years, I’d dealt with the out of control anger of my stepfather as a child, and that’s not what Graham offered. With him, I felt safe.
Then the first touch came down with a slicing snap across my bottom. There was fire in the bite, and I snapped open my eyes. Okay, I felt a bright slice of pain tear across my ass, but nothing I couldn’t take, especially if he spaced them out. I squirmed in anticipation, ready to show him, I wasn’t fragile. I wasn’t breakable.
“If you don’t count, then we start again. Count with me, Eliza,” Graham reminded me, interrupting my thoughts.
“I forgot. One!” I said, smirking. I glanced back at him, so freaking full of myself. “Sorry.”
And our gazes collided. I felt the force, a jolt that tore through me. In one look, Graham gifted me with a cocky-as-shit grin. I didn’t like the way his eyes seemed backlit all of a sudden. I think that was called confidence and mixed with his usual arrogance. The hairs all over my body stood up in recognition.
“Turn your face around,” he whispered, enunciating all the syllables perfectly.
“Thank you, I’d rather not.” I answered, unwilling to turn away until I noticed his expression morphed into a sharper version, and the fact that his cock seemed harder than I’d witnessed before. All signs this wasn’t an ordinary spanking. He was so erect and thick and excited; I remembered what else he had in mind. “Umm…” I stammered, wavering in what I’d assumed. This was just endorphins talking. Right?
“Umm?” he questioned. His body leaned to one side as though thoughtfully considering me. His cock was red and swollen, unbelievably rigid. His full lips quirked, and he laughed as though it couldn’t have gotten any better—from his vantage point, not mine. “Are you disobeying me?”
“Isn’t there room for discussion?” I asked, hopeful that I had some wiggle room.
“Once we begin, you can always say that’s it, and this will be over. I’ll send you back to Miami. No problems. I promise it’s that easy.”
We stared at each other—the same type of explosive face-off that had gotten us into this relationship in the first place. “Well?” he asked softly.
I inhaled as the information he gave me sank in deep. I was free to say stop, and he would. For good. “Fine,” I muttered, bringing my hands up to my bangs and pushing them aside. My forehead was actually sweating. I was losing it over one stinking swat. “Bring. It. On.”
“Don’t forget to count.” Again the swish. Again the bite. Again the pain. But it was wholly different and hurt like hell. Obviously, he’d teased me the first time. Now, my bottom pulsed with heat so hot I expected to see welts, and I turned to inspect the area. I caught sight of him, and it wasn’t good; his expression—a frown—forged in steel. I remembered I’d forgotten to do my part again.
“Eliza, we go back to one for each one you missed counting; remember that’s two more. So, we’re up to twelve plus ten unless another mishap occurs.”
Twenty-freaking-two! I’d begun with ten. This was seriously going in the wrong direction. I swallowed a biting retort and swung my face around, staring at the leather headboard and the crisscrossing rhombi pattern. Buttons the size of quarters separated the diamonds, and the leather appeared brand new. He swatted my bottom again, and I closed my eyes as I gasped. Pinpricks of sweat broke out along my hairline. A thought flash burned across my brain: count!
“Two! Make that one. I can’t remember.”
“One,” he supplied and came to the side of the bed. Graham leaned over and kissed the back of my head. “Congratulations. We’ve managed to get one spank completed.”
“One out of three,” I mumbled and stopped clawing the pillow.
“That wasn’t so difficult. Was it?” he asked in his trademark gravelly voice.
Was he being rhetorical or sarcastic? I glanced over my shoulder as he pressed his palm on the mattress, his pupils dilated. I realized he wasn’t making idle conversation and he wanted a response. “Not very difficult,” I parroted and almost made the mistake of closing my legs. “Not exactly.”
Graham’s intense expression lessened when he suddenly smiled and rolled his eyes. When he looked back at me, the look of intensity flared.
“You’re driving me crazy, Eliza. Fuck, I don’t know when I’ve been this turned on. And baby, as a side-note: I can’t wait to fuck your pretty little ass.”
He brushed his velvet lips over mine and softly sucked my bottom lip into his mouth. I held onto the kiss and the feeling of being drawn out of my own body in wanting him. He stopped kissing me and returned to stand behind me. The now familiar swish cut through the air and landed, slicing a stinging path across my skin.
“Two!” I retorted, ready on my mark, exhaling the pain and unwilling to let him see that this hurt.
Planned pain was nothing like anyone could explain. At times, he hit my bottom hard. So hard I gasped, and then he’d relent for a couple of smacks. I felt a release and I shuddered. Again he brought the flogger down.
“Seven,” I said, lowering my head to the pillow and gritting my teeth after five stinging swats blazed heat over my rear.
“That’s it,” he whispered in my ear. “Open your legs wider. I’m going to get you to come.”
I jerked my head upright, surprised that he’d stopped and was right next to me and promising to make me climax. “Are we finished? Did I do something wrong?”
“Fuck no. Baby, you’re unbelievable. So mesmerizing to spank. But now, it’s time to get you off and it’ll help with managing the pain. Trust me, Eliza. I know what I’m doing.”
“Yeah. I do,” I replied…and meant it.
He leaned over me and thrust his fingers into my pussy. He pumped his hand, fingering my piercing between fucking me hard with his hand. “Please,” I growled, tipping up my hips while he pounded two of his fingers into me.
“You’re slippery. Come, Eliza.” He removed his fingers and sucked them then thrust them back into me. “You taste so sweet.”
I rocked against his hand, arching my neck, and releasing over his fingers. “I want more.”
“We’re not done, baby. This will help with your pain threshold. It’s a theory called endorphin loading or pain stacking. Now, more of the practical as in spanking,” he replied. “We’re up to eight. I want to hear you thank me from here on out.”
I swallowed, meeting his gaze. “I’m supposed to thank you?”
He smiled, swinging the flogger as the muscles in his arms flexed
. “Yeah, baby.”
The flogger met my bottom, harder this time, and with my throbbing pussy, I arched upward. “Nine. Thank you.”
The stacking part of this lesson made sense—I worked out the concept of an adrenaline-fueled reaction but I needed to control my thoughts here as well. As Graham flogged my ass, the tassels snapped so close to my pussy, the impact both hurt and felt utterly erotic. Every nerve ending in my body lit up with excitement.
“So beautiful.” He smacked me again and my muscles tightened. He made my clit pulse. Spasms of euphoric pain delivered by Graham in a controlled manner—I’d held still when the leather strands swished, waiting what felt like an eternity for them to fall. And fall they did. Each smack landed faster and was delivered harder.
“Fourteen,” I muffled my squawk in the pillow as a tear spilled down my cheek. Really, Eliza!
I battled suffocating humiliation at being weak, so weak he had my eyes tearing up. No fucking way! A jolt of anger tore up my spine. Yet none of what ran through my mind explained this wanton feeling of wanting to spread my legs wider. Clutching the pillow like it was a life preserver, I acknowledged I might be coming undone. Then I remembered I’d forgotten to thank him.
I lifted my head and shouted, “Thank you!”
The rush of air from my lungs and mouth was cathartic. I felt emptied. And alive. Fuck, I was very alive with mind-snapping pain, and it was then that I opened myself. He had me vulnerable with a capital ‘V.’ I looked back at him and swallowed, my breathing erratic.
Graham nodded to me solemnly, raising his arm. He looked as though he was doing a yogic meditation. Steady and focused.
Not me! I was ready to lose my mind with my breath, swooshing out of my mouth in a ragged stream, one I couldn’t seem to catch it. The flogger came down, leather onto my flesh. Holy, holy shit! My whole body was consumed by fire.
