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I didn’t need to see Foxx to know what he was doing. Removing his belt. Now I chose to kick out again, which only brought a raucous laugh to the other two men. Why did I have a sense they would all try to outdo themselves?
When I heard the crack of the belt against the floor seconds later, I yelped like a helpless girl. But the second Foxx thumped down on the bed, dragging me over his lap, I was more incensed than before. I pitched and thrashed against him, realizing seconds later that all I was doing was exciting both of us. His cock was rock hard, throbbing with such an increased pulse that I was certain the man had to be in agony.
And I was getting wetter by the second. At least I was until he brought the belt down four times in rapid succession across my backside.
“Oh, God! You’re nuts. That hurts. Ouch.” I pitched and rolled, almost managing to toss myself off his lap.
“You’re not going anywhere, lassie,” he growled with more ferocity than before, dragging me straight across his thick bulge. He even took a few seconds to wrap one leg around both of mine.
I was going nowhere.
The spanking continued, the bastard of a man bringing the belt down time and time again.
I was shocked when the tingling sensations roared into white-hot agony rolling through me and curling my toes. But as he brought the belt down two more times, I gathered a whiff of my increasing desire. That meant all three men could as well. The warm flush from before sliding up my cheeks quickly turned to an entirely different kind of heat. I had no doubt my skin was as red as my bottom was about to become.
“It’s time to switch off, bro,” Jack said, not taking no for an answer. “Only I found something else to use.”
When he plopped down on the bed, I jerked my head up, noticing he had a wooden brush of some kind in his hand. It took me a few seconds to realize it was a gosh darn bath brush. Was he kidding me? Did men travel with that kind of thing and across the ocean? I was jarred back to reality when Foxx let me go, although he grumbled while doing so.
Jack was pleased with himself. I could tell that by the twinkle in his eyes as he shifted me onto his lap. “Look how nice and red her luscious bottom has become.”
“Oh!” My spitfire cry was met with more animalistic sounds. The men were enjoying this far too much. Without any further hesitation, Jack brought the stupid-looking brush down with enough force I was jarred into issuing a sob.
“I’ll get you all for this,” I said weakly a second time, trying to keep tears from forming in my eyes. But it was too late.
Jack cracked the implement down at least six times, maybe seven. I lost count as I drifted into a massive fog, no longer able to remember my name let alone why they were spanking me in the first place.
All I could continue thinking about was that I was a bad girl and deserved this. For what? For winning fair and square? Well, sort of. Okay, not really.
I was shocked that the thudding sound matched the brutality of the spanking perfectly, the rhythm something I noticed Hudson was mimicking as if beat boxing. Was he kidding me? I was about to yell off obscenities when Jack startled me even more by caressing my aching skin. His sudden actions set off a wave of tingles that coursed through every cell and muscle like wildfire.
Now I was so wet, I had no doubt my juice was leaking all over his rugged jeans. Well, too bad. When he dared roll his fingers down the crack of my ass, I was forced to suck in my breath all over again.
The three men were suddenly silent. Finally, Foxx cleared his throat a few seconds later. He had the nerve to drop to the floor in front of me, tangling his fingers in my long strands to keep them out of my face.
“You’re very wet. You’ve hungered for three savages to take full control over you.”
“Not a day in my life,” I answered with far too much confidence, which I didn’t feel in the least.
The spanking continued as it had done before, but this time I did everything in my power not to provide the men with any sense of satisfaction. They didn’t deserve to hear me cry or lash out. I was finished with playing their game. They wanted me to feel vulnerable. They longed for me to be uncomfortable. They were nothing more than brutes.
That I craved.
God. I hated myself for the way I felt about them, the desire spreading through me like some plague. If I could scratch out their eyes, I’d do that in a heartbeat. The pain was insufferable, but I managed to tolerate it, able to even push myself into a Zen moment where my body started to relax. Maybe that’s why the cracks of the bath brush became harder. I gritted my teeth in response, still refusing to make a single sound.
Hudson wasn’t far behind Jack, huffing a few seconds later.
“My turn,” he said in a more demanding voice than ever. “But I do it my way. Place her on all fours.”
Was the bastard kidding me? Jack lifted me off his lap as if I weighed nothing, planting me down in the middle of the bed. I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if all three men had rooms since the bed was barely queen size if that. Their legs were much longer. When my knees were pushed apart, I issued my own growl, which seemed to delight the men, all three of them laughing.
I threw my head over my shoulder, not realizing my reaction of shifting my hips back and forth was doing nothing more than teasing the three hunks. I could tell by the intense looks they gave me and each other, easily reading their minds once again. Dear God. This wasn’t going to end well. I just knew it.
When Hudson planted a single knee on the bed, I couldn’t tell what he had in his hand. “This should do,” he said gruffly, seconds before he smacked something hard and long against my already aching and bruised backside.
“Fuck,” I hissed, trying to keep the single exclamation to myself and failing miserably. When I threw my head over my shoulder again, he happily showed me what he had in his hand. A fucking Lexan ruler. Really? Did these people just carry this stuff around with them in hopes of finding a woman they thought needed discipline? Oh, they were horrible men.
I had so many curse words running through my mind, but I refused to say them. Yet the forceful smacks not only left a ringing in my ears but shoved me forward. I clamped my fingers around the ugly material of the hotel comforter, concentrating on the horrific rust-colored patterns the owner obviously found acceptable. Who used 1970s colors any longer? Had they actually come back into fashion and I hadn’t noticed? Come to think of it, the walls were a pasty dull olive green in color. If I went into the bathroom, which I had no intention of doing, I could only imagine the repulsive color I’d find for fixtures.
