“Yes.”
“Yes, Sir. Say it.”
“Yes, Sir,” she cried, not even thinking twice about it. Yes, Sir. Whatever will make you let me come.
He went into the bathroom to wash his hands, then came out and moved around the room, doing God knew what. She turned to peek and was rewarded with a reproachful glare. “When I told you to stay still, I meant to face the wall. Stay there while I think what to do with you tonight.”
She turned back with another anxious shiver. She heard a swatting, slapping sound of something against his palm. He crossed to her and shoved it into her hand.
“Here. Hold this.”
It was a thick black leather strappy thing. She breathed fast, in and out. When she tried to turn around he made a sound that stopped her. He started spanking her ass with his palm, not single spanks like before, but a steady, allover distribution. She squirmed at the sustained, stinging pain. After a few minutes, her squirms turned to protests as she danced around to avoid the smacks.
He put a hard hand on her shoulder. “Stop that,” he said. “This is just the warm-up. You’re going to need it,” he added on a dire note.
“Just the warm-up?” Her ass was already throbbing hot. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”
“I do,” he said. “But you have your safeword. Use it if you need it.”
Oh God!
“Give me the strap.” He held his hand out. “It’s a hard spanking for you, little girl. Brace your hands on the wall and stick your ass out.”
He slapped her burning cheeks again as soon as she did, then ran his hands over the sting. Her knees shook with fear and longing. She was terrified she’d collapse into a heap before he even got started.
He came around the side of her, grabbed a handful of her hair, and drew his arm back. Thwack! The strap connected with her ass, sounding almost as awful as it felt. The leather left a rectangle of pain across both cheeks and she jerked, causing his hand to tug at her hair. Tears sprang to her eyes. Another blow fell, and another. Oh, God, it hurt so bad, like fire across her bottom. She reached back with a cry.
“No. Hands on the wall,” he said. “Don’t move them again.”
The strapping resumed. It was so tempting to end it, to say her safeword and make the pain stop, but then she wouldn’t get the reward of sticking it out. She knew her suffering turned him on, just as his power and force excited her, but she could barely keep her hands still on the wall. He paused just as she was about to throw in the towel.
“So hot and red,” he murmured, leaning closer to inspect the damage. “You like it?”
She blinked away the sheen of her tears. Did she like it? Yes and no.
“Answer me,” he prompted.
“Yes, Sir, I like it.”
“Bend more,” he said, nudging her downward. “I want to see your pretty pussy.” He made a pleased sound and knelt behind her, spreading her cheeks and running his tongue over her exposed cleft. She shivered, three seconds from melting to oblivion. He laved her clit, flicking through the hot wetness there. She was instantly transported from aching, stinging pain to sweet bliss. “Please don’t stop,” she begged.
He pulled away, pinching her labia. “Not time to come yet. Put your hands back on the wall.”
She moaned as he straightened and began strapping her again. “Ah,” he said to the accompaniment of her stifled cries. “Your ass is so tempting when it’s red like this. When you’re tensing away from me. When do I get to fuck that ass?”
“I—ow—I don’t know!”
“Wrong answer,” he said, with another sharp crack. “Try again.”
Petra pressed her forehead against the wall, working to put together a complete sentence. “Whenever—whenever you want. Sir,” she added, remembering.
“Oh, very nice.” He paused and tilted her head back for a kiss. “Good girl,” he breathed against her lips. “For reward, I lick your pussy again.”
She almost cried from the relief of his lips on her, and the questing pressure of his tongue. He made sounds like her pussy was the most delicious thing in the world, avid, sucking sounds and hums of approval. When he stopped, she barely suppressed a cry of protest. He responded by pulling her up and covering her mouth with his palm.
“You know Liam and Ashleigh and Mem can hear you.” She squirmed against him, feeling shamed and excited. “They hear you being spanked like a bad girl and they hear you groaning like a slut. How does that make you feel?”
She knew it was a rhetorical question, since his hand was still over her mouth. But if he’d prompted her to answer, she would have told him it made her feel the same as when he talked about fucking her ass: part horny and aroused, and part horrified. She squealed against his palm as he trapped her against the wall and resumed the strapping with the most intense strokes yet.
She danced on her feet, danced to the choreography of erotic pleasure and pain. She didn’t want it to end, but oh, it hurt so much. When she shied away from the blows, he let go of her mouth and trapped her around the waist. Now, no matter how much she bucked and twisted, she couldn’t get away. Crack! Thwap! Crack! The pain was awful, but it was tempered by the warmth of his closeness, and his enigmatic power melting her inside.
His pace increased, along with the intensity of the smacks. Her cries of protest became real crying, tears trailing down her face and into her mouth and nose. She clutched at the arm trapping her, not the graceful ballerina now, but the frantic submissive enduring an ass-beating she wanted but could barely tolerate. As much as she wanted to please him, she would have to stop him soon. She shuddered through another stinging stroke and let her legs go limp. Down. She wanted down. She’d taken all she could stand...perhaps a little beyond what she could stand. He stopped at once, releasing her so she could fall to her knees in surrender.
“Romeo,” she whispered. “I want more, but—”
“It’s okay,” he said, tipping up her chin. She stared into approving black eyes. “I’ll give you more. Something else, nicer. Kneel up straight and open your mouth.”
She obeyed without the slightest hesitation, even though a month ago, a year ago, she would have said she despised giving blowjobs. Somehow that was no longer the case. He left her to go for a condom, then returned to stand with his thick cock jutting in front of her. Without prompting, she opened wider.
“That’s right,” he said. “Serve me. Let me fuck your pretty face.”
Serve me. He’d said that to her in one of her sordid dreams. She remembered the exact words, and fought a sudden feeling of disequilibrium. Was this another dream or was it really happening? She made some small sound of panic and he touched her face as if to soothe her.
“You can do it,” he said. “Suck me. You’re starving for me, aren’t you?” He massaged her throat as she took his length as deep as she could. Dream or reality?
His fingers felt too warm and real for this to be a dream. She cupped her hands around his rigid length, over the part she couldn’t fit in her mouth, then reached down to stroke his balls. At his urging, she drew back to lick them with broad strokes. He groaned and put his hands on the sides of her head. “Jesus Cristo,” he said. “You’re getting too good at this. Turn around. Open your legs.”
He knelt behind her and yanked her into position on her hands and knees. She barely caught her breath before he impaled her on his cock. He drove against her hot ass, riding her, manipulating her for his pleasure. He was so greedy and demanding. Heat built in her pussy, her innate response to his mastery. He stroked and pinched her breasts and pressed his chest against her back. When she begged there, there, there, he gave it to her there, thrusting deep and sliding his fingers over her swollen clit.
Is okay to be scared. Is okay to be scared.
The deep strokes of his cock were scary exciting, and scary rough. Add his muscles, his grasping hands, and the seductive lilt of his accent, and she found herself in that wondrous world again, the world where she and Rubio fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. His cock and her pussy, his force and her submission. His darkness and the light he opened up inside her, the light that pulsed and made her shudder until she fell apart. He licked the back of her neck and yanked her hair hard.
“You smell like sugar,” he said against her ear. “I dream about it...” His voice went out on a gasp and he drove into her harder, faster, lifting her from the floor with the force of his thrusts. Her pussy clenched around him as her orgasm erupted without conscious thought. It was a reflex, a natural outcome of being joined to him. He wrapped her in his arms, and she thought she could feel his heartbeat beneath her own heart’s frantic pounding. He ground his hips against hers. His whole body tensed and shuddered, and then he grabbed two handfuls of her hair and pressed his forehead to her back.
“Petra,” he sighed. “What do you do to me?”
He drew back and flipped her over, and kissed her as she clung to him, basking in the feeling of his hard body pressed against hers. After a while, he pulled away to take off the condom.
“Careful,” he said. “So no baby. Right?”
She nodded, so appreciative of the care he took. She had to look away, or she was afraid he’d see everything she felt about him. I love you. I’m trying to fight it but I can’t.