by Jane Henry
“I told you that you needed to report to me, or…”
“Or you’ll punish me,” I finish. “I remember!”
“Exactly. And you didn’t report to me, did you?”
“Well, it's stupid," I whine.
“Is it," he growls. “Is it stupid that I want to take care of you? Let you know that I give a damn what you do, and who you do it with?”
“I mean, kinda?”
I don't mean a word I just said. But it was easy to submit to him last night. He made it easy when he overpowered me and gave me no choice. And yeah, being buzzed helped too. Today, it’s different. Today the sun is up and I blush just thinking about the idea of calling him sir.
“Heyo!”
I swear to god, Davo has the worst fucking timing in the universe. He walks into my apartment, grinning. The smile falls off his face when he sees who’s here with me.
“I thought I told you to get rid of the junkie.” Enzo talks to me like Davo is some stray dog who followed me home.
Davo looks immediately hurt at that description, and I don't blame him. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a bully, and Enzo has no right to tell me who I can and cannot be friends with.
“He's not a junkie. You don't know anything about him. Or anything about drugs. You’re old-fashioned. Behind the times. Drugs can be good for you. They can expand your mind."
“Yeah, man,” Davo chimes in. "They're pretty sweet.”
Enzo gives him a vicious, violent look. I know that kind of look. I know what comes after it. If Davo’s not careful, he’s going to be put through the wall. There’s jealousy in that look I want to defuse.
“He's a friend, Enzo. I’m not going to fuck him. He's not my type.”
“You do not address me by my first name,” Enzo growls at me.
Oh fuck. Oh no.
If he makes me call him sir in front of Davo, I think I’ll literally die of embarrassment.
“I’m, uhm, gonna go,” Davo says, jerking his thumb toward the door and backing out slowly.
“That was so embarrassing!” I practically shriek the words at Enzo when the door closes and we’re alone.
“You should have done as you were told, and it wouldn’t have been. That's a common theme for you, Mia,” he says, reaching for that damn leather paddle. He picks it up and slaps the business end against the flat of his palm, making me quiver.
“Time for your spanking, little girl.”
He announces it like it's inevitable, like there’s no way out of it. My mouth goes dry and I back away from him. I really don’t want to find out what that paddle feels like. Maybe it's time to explain what actually happened.
“I actually didn’t not check in with you on purpose. I actually forgot. Like, for real.”
“Alright, then you can be spanked, like, for real as well,” he says. He does not do a good valley girl impression. Neither do I, for that matter.
“Enzo…”
“You know what to call me, Mia.”
I can’t fucking say it. Last night was different. There was a whole mood. I was slightly high. Now it’s lunch time. My friend just got sent home. This is all way too much for me.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t.”
“Then you need a reminder.”
There's no way I’m going to cooperate with this. I guess he knows that because he doesn't bother telling me to come to him. He strides over to me, and we both know what's going to happen next. I am not wearing the kind of shoes which allow me to make quick escapes.
He catches me and tosses me over the back of the couch like I weigh nothing. I’m too easy for him to handle, too soft, too girly. He flips my skirt up over my back and I hear him curse.
“No underwear, Mia? That's how you attend class?”
“Someone made my ass hurt!”
“And that someone is about to make it hurt a whole lot more."
True to his word, I hear the paddle hiss through the air, then connect with my rear with a swift snapping sound. For a split-second, it doesn't hurt at all. Then the heat comes, a rush of warmth which could feel good, but doesn't because it's followed by a sting which makes my toes curl inside my designer shoes.
“Fuck!” I swear at the top of my lungs.
“Language, little girl," he drawls, landing another swat in practically the same damn place.
He’s ruthless. He’s cruel. He's so, so, so mean. Every one of those thoughts is accompanied by another one of those harsh swats which make the paddle land across the very center of my cheeks, right where I sit.
Enzo is making his point, and he's doing it hard and fast.
By the time he drops the paddle, I’m sobbing. I’ve never felt this much pain. My ass feels like it is on fire, but that's not the worst of it. The worst thing is feeling so weak and helpless. I didn't even mean to forget to check in with him. I've never done that before. I tell myself that it wasn't my fault. He’s being mean. He likes hurting me because he’s cruel.
He gathers me into his arms and I melt, clinging to him like he’s the only thing in the world that matters. My relief at no longer being spanked, and my desperate need for comfort, makes me ignore the fact that the same man who just paddled my ass painfully is the one cuddling me on the couch now, his big hand stroking over the same flesh he just punished.
“Are you going to be good for me?”
Does he want the truth? Or does he want me to tell him what he wants to hear?
“Yes, sir.” Even I don't know if that's the truth or not. Maybe I will be good for him. Maybe I won’t have a choice.
He slides his fingers under my chin and lifts my eyes to his. “I’m going to look after you, Mia. Whether you like it or not. If you make a mistake, or forget one of my rules, you don't sass me and tell me it's stupid. You apologize, and maybe you avoid this.”
This is an ass so sore I won't be sitting for days. This is a flood between my thighs, a rampant arousal I can’t control. The way I react to Enzo isn’t just mental and physical. It's chemical, and I can't help it.
I want him to kiss me again. I want more than kisses. I want his body inside mine. I want my virginity to be a distant memory ripped away by him.
“You’re going to put some panties on before you come to my class, Mia,” he says, brushing his thumb over my lower lip. “Tonight, we’re going to have dinner together."
“Like a date?”
Why do I sound so hopeful? It's embarrassing. I’m starting to think he doesn't actually want me that way. That I'm making a fool of myself by trying to seduce him when all he does is spank me.
“You’re going to come to my apartment," he says. "I'll cook for you. You need a decent meal. You need someone to watch over you..” He looks at me and his voice lowers another octave. “I am going to take very good care of you, Mia.”
In every way but the way I want, apparently.
“Oh, and next time you earn a spanking, you’re going to put yourself in position for me and take it like a good girl.” Those words, delivered in that husky, dominant purr almost make me come. “I’m not going to wrangle you every time, Mia. You're going to submit to me. You’ll present that hot little ass to me and you’ll ask me to spank you like you deserve…"
I’m so fucking wound up and on edge. I'm going to need another shower. Or maybe not. Maybe if I spread my legs wide, keep straddling him, and squeeze myself against him there will be enough friction for me to come and he won’t even notice that I’m humping his leg.
“God, Mia." His voice is deep, his hand on my ass. He doesn't stop me as I grind back and forth. Now, when I surge forward, I feel something hard and long against my inner thigh. It’s him. His cock. Trapped inside fabric.
Yesterday, I threw water all over his shirt. Today, I'm soaking his pants with my cunt.
“Fuck… fuck…” I whimper the words against his mouth and neck, clinging to him as I drag my pussy over the hard ridge of his thigh, urged on by the light taps he’s giving my bottom.
“Sir,” I whimper. “Sir, please fuck me…”
Chapter 8
Enzo
“Not here, cara,” I breathe in her ear. “Let’s go back to my place.” I can’t tell her no, not when I’m the one that put her in this position.
I need her to come home with me. My place, where I’ve got food, no video cameras, no fucking junkie pounding on my door, and a box of condoms.
I know I shouldn’t, that this is dangerous, and I’ve warred within myself all damn day. I told myself she needed discipline, accountability, and I couldn’t do my job correctly unless she feared me. But Christ, I suspect Mia’s a virgin in more ways than one.
I want all her firsts to be mine. The first blush of pink on her ass when I paddle her, the first moans and spasms of pleasure when she comes on my tongue, the first tight clench of her cunt on my cock.
“Sir,” she breathes in my ear, her voice nearly pitching off into a whine with her desperation, and I wonder if I can even wait to get her there. But no. I have to stay firm.
I swallow hard. “My place.”
I want her safe. Under my protection, where I can keep a closer watch on her.
I don’t like that the junkie came barging in here unannounced. What if I wasn’t here? How would he respond if she told him to fuck off, that she didn’t want his wares? No doubt she’s one of his top customers, and he won’t take kindly to losing her business.
I blink past my sex-hazed view around her place, getting my shit together so I can bring her back to my place. I look around for any signs of foul play.
“Seriously, what are you doing?” Mia asks. She’s holding my hand as I check her locks, check her windows, make sure the security cameras I’ve got trained on her are in place.
“I don’t trust that douchebag.”
“Davo? He’s harmless.”
“Right.”
“I’ve got an easy solution for that if you’re worried about me,” she says in that low, seductive purr I feel straight to my groin.
“Oh?”
Everything’s kosher. We’re good to go.
“Just let me stay at your place tonight.”
Right. The perfect solution and my utter ruin.
She’s so damn innocent and naïve. “Anyone could see us. Someone at the college, for example.”
Someone keeping tabs on me from Calabria.
She looks as if she’s trying to decide between pouting and agreeing, but a sharp look from me and she pulls her lower lip back in her mouth, nodding.
“Yes, sir.”
Good girl.
“You come to my place with me for dinner, then you come back here tonight.”
She nods again. “Sounds good.”
“I’ll go first, so we don’t rouse suspicion.”
She nods, but I can tell she’s reluctant to be separated from me.
Good girl.
It’s stupid as fuck, but as I walk from her place to mine, I tell myself I can do this. Keep my hands off her. Be the protector she needs, not just another fuck trying to get in her pants.
I take note of everything as I leave and head back to my place. The solid locks on her door, fire alarm in working order, the halls neatly swept. Though she lives in a nice place, the buildings like this in Boston are old, needing constant upkeep.
But she’s safe.
I trot up the stairs and don’t even answer Michele when she calls from her balcony. Maybe if I pretend not to hear her she’ll go away.
I’m prepared to tell Emilio to fuck off when I get to my place, but he isn’t there either. We’re wide and clear. I whip out my phone and scroll to my video feed. I watch as Mia tosses things into a bag, a smile on her face. Damn, she’s beautiful. So innocent. And the way she fucking responded to my discipline… God.
I’ll have to find a movie. A hobby. A craft, for Christ’s sake, anything that doesn’t involve my dick and her tight little body.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I pull out the little packages of fresh ravioli I bought at a shop down the street, hand cut this morning. Bread, olive oil, and herbs. I’m stripping basil off a plant by my door when the bell rings. I’ve watched her every step of the way.
“Come on up,” I say, and push the buzzer. I wipe my hands on a dishtowel and go to the door to meet her. I open the door, when my phone rings in my pocket.
Jesus Christ.
Piero.
He doesn’t like to wait.
I walk down the steps to Mia while I answer the phone.
“Ciao, capo.”
“Ciao, figlio.”
Son.
My conscience stabs me. I tug Mia’s hand, but she doesn’t budge. What the hell?
“How’s my daughter?” Piero asks.
“Doing well,” I say. “Made it to all her classes.”
“Staying out of trouble?”
I grimace, but nod. Oh, I’ll make sure she stays the hell out of trouble. I can’t make it sound too perfect, though.
“Yes, sir. So far, anyway. Had a few questionable friends, but I made my presence known and I don’t think they’ll be causing problems.”
He chuckles. He approves of my methods, I tell myself.
Well, most of them.
Jesus, probably almost none of them.
“Thank you, son. You have no idea how much I appreciate what you’re doing.”
If he had any idea.
I hear a woman’s voice drifting over from next door. She’s talking to Mia, and she doesn’t know I’m here. I walk toward Mia.
“Of course, boss. And how’s my mother?”
I need to turn the subject away from Mia before he can hear the guilt over the phone four thousand miles away.
He tells me she’s good, but I’m only half-listening. Mia’s cheeks are flushed pink, and she’s frozen in place. I exit the door and look to where she is, to find Michele on the balcony. Glaring.
Great.
I give Michele a wave, take Mia by the hand, and yank her inside.
“Good, good, sir,” I say to Piero. I give Mia a warning look, pointing to the phone, but she’s obviously distracted. I put my finger to her lips. Her eyes go wide.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Anything you need, son, you call me. That daughter of mine knows how to find trouble, but I sent you because I know you’ll take good care of her.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
I. Am. A. Douche.
I hang up the phone and stick it in my pocket. She shoves my finger away.
What the hell is this?
“Don’t do that to me,” she says. I slam the door behind her and press her back to it. My pulse races from the phone call. I’m so fucking wound up. I lean in on my forearm, caging her in.
I keep my voice low. Any of the other occupants of this building could come in at any time. “Is that how you speak to me?”
She briefly closes her eyes, then sighs and shakes her head. “No, sir.”
I point.
“Upstairs.”
She swallows and nods, watching me. I take her bag and point again. “Go.”
“Who was on the phone?” she asks over her shoulder. Her ass is at eye level. I want to bite it.
I swallow hard.
“Your father.”
“Oh God.”
I snort. “Right.”
We make it to the landing, and I open the door for her, toss her bag on the couch, then sit and pull her onto my lap. She nestles right in like she belongs here, like she was created to fit just right. I don’t miss the way she winces. She’s been soundly spanked, and I don’t regret a damn thing. But now she needs me to take care of her, and that’s exactly what I’ll do.
Why on earth I put her on my lap, when I’m bound and determined not to fuck this girl, is beyond me. I could have her sit next to me, but no. I could stand and have her sit… also, no. Right here on my lap, the most dangerous seat in the fucking house, is where I chose to have this conversation.
> “What did he say?”
“You first. What happened down there?”
She draws in a deep breath, then lets it out. Her eyes grow icy and her body taut. “Oh, just your ex.”
I blink. “My ex? I have no ex. I haven’t dated anyone since I came here.”
“Oh, really?”
She doesn’t believe me. What the hell?
“Really. So tell me who was down there.”
“That little hussy next door.”
I can’t help but laugh out loud at that. “The little hussy?”
“That woman with her tits hanging out. She saw me coming and started saying nasty things to me.”
I sit up straighter. No one messes with my girl.
“What nasty things?”
“Said she saw me with my friends and that if I thought the professor was interested in a little slut like me, she knew better. That he liked real women, and—”
I’ve heard enough. I put my hand up to stop her. “I’ll deal with her. What gave you the impression that she was my ex?”
Now she looks embarrassed. She twists a piece of hair between her fingers and bites her lip. “It was just the way she talked about you, as if she owned you, like she had Professor Caprio rights and I just infringed on them.”
I laugh out loud. “Don’t worry about her. But look at you, all jealous.”
She crosses her arms on her chest. “I’m not jealous.”
She’s totally jealous.
I brush a strand of hair off her forehead and tuck it behind her ear. “Don’t lie, little girl. Little girls who lie get in trouble.”
Her chest heaves as she draws in a breath. “I’m not sure I can take another spanking, sir.”
I brush my fingers through her hair, and she sighs. I tug, making her draw in a quick breath. “Oh, I have many methods of discipline, Mia. Spanking is only one of them.”
“Why does that turn me on?” she breathes.
I kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear. “Because you know it’s exactly what you need.”
The roar of desire for her drowns out my conscience, the phone call from her father but a distant memory.
“Tell me, sir,” she whispers back. “Tell me what I need.”
“Someone to watch over you. To punish you when you’re naughty and spoil you when you behave. To make sure you do what you should, take care of yourself, and stay safe.”
