“I think you’re trying to distract me, Lara,” he tutted. “Are you?”
“No,” I lied.
Oops, so much for honesty. I will know, he’d said. And he did. His hand smacked down on my bare bum with such force that I yowled, forgetting the open window and the interesting sound effects for the passers-by outside.
“Don’t!” he said, with another ringing slap. “Lie!”
“Argh!”
“To!”
“Owwww.”
“Me!”
“Ohhhhh noooooo.”
“Message received and understood?”
The rain fell hard, red and stinging.
“Yes, yes, yes, understood.”
“Good. That’s the first part of your punishment over with.”
Chapter Three
“The first part?”
“I can’t help noticing,” he said, placing a palm against a very damp inner thigh, “that you can
’t seem to control your response to discipline.”
“I…don’t mean to…”
“I know. You mean well, don’t you? But your body betrays you. Let’s have a little lesson in the art of self-control. A little practice. Shall we?”
“May I ask what sort of practice, Sir?” I asked, the sub-speak coming easily to me in this over-the-knee, hot-bottomed position.
“Yes, you may ask. I’m going to touch you, Lara, in a way that will give you pleasure. But you are not permitted to come. As soon as you feel that orgasm is inevitable, you are to do your very best to head it off.”
“I…won’t be able to do that!” I squeaked.
“Maybe not straight away. But you will learn. You don’t come now without my permission, my dear, and I think we should extend that even to times when I’m not here. No sneaky masturbating in the shower. I’ll ask you at each meeting, and don’t forget, I know when you are lying. I think this will teach you to achieve a level of focus that has been sadly lacking thus far.”
I gasped. A level of focus? This was going to be torture. Ever since Dexter had come into my life, my fingers had seemed connected to my pussy as if by a force of gigantic magnetism. I had to wrench them away sometimes. He knew it! He must!
“Spread your legs for me now,” he commanded quietly.
Pouting, although he couldn’t see it, I let them scissor apart, feeling him jolt my pelvis up with a knee, so that my bottom and sex were high, wide and open to him. The side of his hand brushed my lips and clit. I almost combusted on the spot. I was dripping, hot, sweaty, squirmy, and milliseconds from coming.
“You need a good seeing-to,” was his assessment. “Perhaps one day I can give you that. Perhaps.”
In the fug of lust and humiliation, my heart found space to leap. He was thinking of a future, however vaguely.
“Of all the greedy little quims I’ve ever known,” he said, gently, hypnotically, rubbing the sweet spot into a fat bloom of need, “I think this must be the greediest. What kind of girl gets wet from being punished? Eh? The kind of girl that needs more punishment, I think. The kind of girl that needs to be taken in hand.”
He pushed a finger up inside me and rotated it. It was useless to deny it, I was going to come soon, and hard.