Ahem. More.
I’m over his lap, helpless to stop him, my hands flailing out in front of me, when I feel the first smack of his palm on my ass. I squeal and squirm, but he holds fast and gives me six more whacks before he speaks. My cheeks and chest grow feverish and hot, and even as I flinch in anticipation of the next blow, the throbbing between my legs intensifies.
I fucking love being spanked by Dario.
“Hey, stop!” I protest with such a futile attempt at sincerity and earnestness, I’m not even sure if he heard me, but it’s part of the game.
“You know I like it when you’re a good girl,” he says, his heavy palm resting on my still-clothed ass. “And not when you disobey me like this.” His touch is almost a gentle petting, making my body hypersensitive. I can hardly think beyond the desperate need for relief between my legs, how badly I need him to touch me.
I nod my head, feigning penitence. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Not sure what got into me there.”
I wriggle my butt a little. I want him either to smack me again and make it really hurt or make me come, but I’d die before I’d actually ask him for either of those things.
“Something you want to ask me?”
I shake my head, earning me another wicked smack of his palm. “Why don’t we aim for the truth this time. Let’s not forget it was dishonesty that brought you here in the beginning, wasn’t it?”
Touché, big guy.
There’s a lump in my throat preventing me from speaking. When I don’t respond, he gives my ass another hard spank. I squeal.
“Answer me, Vivia.”
I nod my head. “It was, yeah.”
“Why did you goad me on?”
“Goad you on?”
I need more information from him.
“Yeah. You knew you’d end up here, so what was it? It’s unlike you to talk back to me like that.”
He’s right, but I won’t admit it that readily.
“You don’t really know me well enough to say what’s unlike me,” I say reproachfully, but it’s only a half-truth. In some weird way, I feel like Dario knows the real me better than anyone else.
“Ah, so we’re playing that game,” he says, almost to himself.
What game? Why does he always have to be one step ahead of me?
He adjusts me so he has even better access to my ass, and tugs at the waist of my yoga pants.
“Wait! Hey! I thought you were done?”
His voice is harder now, no longer amused. “You thought wrong.”
I’m squirming now, real fear squirreling through me. “Then… why are you… Dario!”
I gasp when the hardest, most painful spank he’s ever given me takes my breath away followed by another, then another, then another. “I want the truth. I’m not playing games. The truth, or you won’t get up off my knee until I’ve blistered your ass.”
This isn’t a game anymore but very, very real.
“The truth about what?” I ask, stalling.
“Why you provoked me, knowing you’d end up here.”
Fine, then. My cheeks burst into flame when I realize I’m going to tell him the truth that embarrasses me so badly I can’t look at him. “Because I like being spanked.”