“Thank you.” She put it aside and retrieved the other item from the box, a long wooden stick made of soft cedar, with a loop at one end. “A switch?” She took both ends of the item in her hands and bent it, proving its flexibility.
“When I was a boy,” he said, “one of my teachers would strike the bare bottom of any student who misbehaved.”
She gulped. “Is this another item on your list?”
“Yes. Specifically, inflicting that same treatment on a willing partner.” He took the item from her numb fingers, then struck the inside of his palm. “Shall I discipline you for speaking in the clearing when I told you not to?”
She imagined the hook hitting her tender rear. There was something so wild about it, that even though part of her was repulsed by the idea, she nodded.
“Bend over with your hands on the table,” he said.
She gulped but removed her cloak and then did as he asked.
He walked behind her and rubbed her bare bottom. “It’s almost a shame to bruise this perfect flesh.” But then there was awhooshof air, followed by a sharp sensation on her buttocks.
She squeezed her thighs together. The pain was eclipsed by the pleasure of knowing who was doing the disciplining.
“You won’t disobey me again, will you?” Cordon asked. He walked around her in an arc, from one side to the next. Every time he passed directly behind, she tensed, waiting for a sting. When it didn’t come, the anticipation made her insides squirm.
“I might,” she said. “I’m not very good at taking orders.” She released her bite on her cheek, not wanting to damage herself if another strike came. When it didn’t, she peered over her shoulder. He stood there, smiling, patting the hook in his palm. Then, as she watched, he smacked her inner thigh.
The slight sting was nothing compared to the rush of heat that curled in her abdomen. She felt liquid slide down her leg.
“Oh, what’s this?” he asked.
He touched the inside of her shin, then slid up and nudged against her quim.
“She likes it.” He gently rubbed back and forth. Slowly at first, but then with increasing pressure and speed that had her moving against the length of wood as if it were his fingers and not an implement of punishment.
Then he was leaning over her, whispering in her ear. “Such an appetite for pain and pleasure.”
Her heart leaped into her throat as he touched the switch to her entrance and nudged inside. She twisted her hips, trying to take it deeper.
“Why should I give you what you want?” he asked. “You disobeyed me.”
He thrust the switch in and out. It happened so quickly that she cried out, desperate to feelmore.
“There’s my hungry, little mouse,” he said. “Touch yourself for me.”
She worked herself in a fury as the combination of his words, the penetration, and his hands on her hips made the pleasure rise like a wave. Then he removed the switch and something smooth and broad touched her entrance.
“I want to take you,” he said. He was so huge, and warm against her cool skin. She reached between her legs to grasp him, but he moved too quickly.
“Please,” she whispered.
“What else do you want?”
Her cheeks burned. “I-I want you to touch me.”
His hands smoothed down her back. “Here?” He squeezed her rear. “Or here?” He leaned over and took her breasts in his hands.
She arched her back. “Yes!”
He tilted his hips. “Like this?”
He was so big and hot, stretching her apart. He latched his mouth to her neck, and a wave of intense pleasure swept down her body, making her spasm so intensely, she would have lost her footing if he hadn’t wrapped an arm around her hips and anchored her in place.
When the pleasure ebbed enough for her to think clearly again, she realized he was still throbbing inside her.
