“I don’t even own underwear.”
“I’ll get you some when we go shopping. Now elbows, please.”
I smack my elbows down on the keys with a musical bang and hang my head. Anticipating his hand on my ass as my pussy begins to throb.
He walks up behind me, his fingertips brushing gently along the curve of my ass, and then I hear the sound of his belt buckle.
Oh, God. He’s gonna fuck me into compliance. This whole deal is starting to look up. I bite my lip to stop the smile. Getting stuck in this house with Mason Macintyre might be the best thing ever.
But then he pulls his belt through the loop of his pants and snaps it.
I look over my shoulder and he’s got a wild gleam in his eyes now, that maybe-kindness and calmness gone.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He hits me with the belt.
Hard.
So hard I scream and turn around.
He shakes his head.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“How many times did you say fuck when you were at the top of the stairs?”
“What?”
“Five, Lyssa. It was five. So you have four more beatings coming.”
“Beatings?” I say, shocked. “You’re going to beat me into submission?”
“That’s right.”
“Fuck you,” I snarl. “You’re not hitting me with that belt ever again.” My voice is shaky and I hate that. But I can’t stop it. My body is alive with adrenaline.
“Turn around. You’re up to five again.”
“No,” I say. “No.”
He starts putting his belt on again. Notices my confused face. “I do need your permission to punish you. You do have a choice here. But I also have a choice. And if you don’t want to play by my rules then I’m leaving and not coming back. Ever. I don’t need this, Lyssa. My mother is in Sweden dying of cancer. That’s why I needed this money. I’d much rather be there with her than here with an ungrateful bratty princess who only thinks in the moment and has no regard for consequences. So decide. Because I’ve got better places to go, better things to do, and better people to be with.”
“What?” I say, trying to unpack all those words he just threw at me.
“I’m gonna count down from three this time. Three. Two.”
I spin around and bend over. Lift my dress up and plunk my elbows down on the keys. “Fine,” I yell. “I choose you.”
Because… because his mother is dying. And he’s handsome. And he talks to me like I’m a real person and no one has ever done that with me.
Smack. “Ow!” I scream, tears in my eyes.
Smack. I start sobbing from the sting. There has to be a welt on my ass.
Smack. I lean my head down on the keys.
Smack. I make fists with my hands and start coughing from the pain.
Smack. My legs are shaking. I think the welts are actually bleeding.
He puts his arms around me and picks me up like a small child. Walks me through the foyer and into the great room. Then sets me on my feet, sits down on the couch, and says, “Lie over my knee.”
“No more,” I beg. It hurts so bad I can barely think.
“Please don’t make me repeat that, Lyssa.”
I don’t know what to do. I want to punch him for hurting me. But I don’t want him to leave. And if I strike back he will. I know he will.
What should I do?
CHAPTER ELEVEN – MASON
“But—” she begins to protest.
“But what?” I ask her. I will not repeat my request. I will not. But if she’s got something to say I’ll listen to her.
“Are you going to hurt me?”
“Do you trust me?”
She shakes her head. Then sucks in a breath, expecting me to react to that.
“That’s fine,” I say. “I didn’t earn it yet. So that’s fine. But I told you. I’m on your side.”
She exhales. “So…”
“Do you remember what I just asked you to do?”
“Yes,” she mumbles.
“Good. Then do it.” She looks at my hands. Then back up to my eyes. “Or don’t. But I’ve already told you what happens if you make this hard for me. I’m on your side, Lyssa. I promise.”
She kneels on the couch, turns her body, then lies over my legs and buries her face into the cushion.
I lift up her dress, exposing the welts on her ass, and then drag my fingertips over the back of her thigh. Just like I did last night.
She sighs, but her body is still, and rigid, and untrusting.
When I get to the little dent on her knee, I twirl little circles there. Then drag my fingertips all the way down her calf and tickle the sole of her foot.
That’s how I wanted to do it last night, but couldn’t.
“Does it feel good?” I ask.
“Mmm-hmmm,” she mumbles.
“Yeah, I like doing this too. So just relax, Lyssa. Your slate is clean now. We’re starting fresh. No more spankings unless you disobey me again.”