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She shuffled over his knees, kept her feet together and her hands pressed on the floor. So far, she was doing it exactly as she should. Nice and still, head down, bottom pointed to the spotlight above his head.
“Legs apart,” he insisted.
She parted them a fraction.
“More,” he snapped. “I want to see your pussy slit and bum hole. So wide, much wider.”
She shot a glance over her shoulder. This wasn’t how things were done usually, at least not when she was over other men’s knees. “Really?”
He smacked her bottom so hard, the ripples traveled around her hips.
“Ow!” she squealed.
“It’s how I do it, and that is what matters.”
She flung her legs sideways until she felt a coolness between her buttocks.
Nerves kicked in. She’d not felt them since the episode over dinner. They weren’t the good type of nerves. She tensed and a knot formed in the pit of her stomach.
Jamen’s shadow cast a pattern of the carpet. He lifted his hand high—fucking high. Oh, shit, she wasn’t ready for this…
The smack ricocheted around the huge room, bouncing of the windows and ceiling. The pain came a second later. A hot, searing pain that inflamed the targeted lobe. He really did have a paddle for a hand. She jerked, lifting her head up and tried to reach behind to rub away the hot imprint of his palm.
“No!” he growled. “Stay still. I want you spread across my lap. When a hanjin is punished, they surrender their bodies to the pain. They offer me thanks for each spank.”
Crikey! “Thank you, sir,” she choked on the words, because the pain hadn’t diminished one jot. How many? He’d not said how many.
He smacked the other cheek with an equal firmness. She wailed and tried to turn on to her side. In reply, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed her back down.
Another slap, followed by two more, each on alternating cheeks. She gave him thank yous, squealing the words out. Jamen continued spanking and her voice disintegrated into a croak.
“I don’t expect heroics,” he said, pausing to brush his hand over her blazing ass. “Do you want me to stop?”
“You mean you’re not finished?” She wanted it over. The tears were dripping off her nose and onto the carpet threads.
“I’ve barely started,” he scolded. “This is how you will take your punishments. No more pretending to be sorry. Do you want me to cease?”
Pretending? He made it sound like she acted up for attention at the Bow and Tie. She volunteered for her spankings—nobody criticized her motives. Fuck you, she thought. Spank away, I’ll show you.
She remained silent and in the absence of an answer, he chose for her. “Very well. I shall continue.”
The next swipe of his hand arrived at a different angle. He aimed between her cheeks, then down. His palm slapped her buttocks while his fingertips kissed her delicate sex lips.
She snapped her legs together.
“Apart, Paige,” he ordered. “I decided where you are punished. Your bottom, your asshole or pussy, they are mine when you’re bent over. Understood?”
The edge in his voice was reinforced by the metallic clips of his accent. She spread her legs, wiped her nose with her hand, and resumed the shameful position.
This was no joke, no fun playtime. She was being punished properly for the first time ever. She got it now. It wasn’t just about the pain—it was submitting without question. Yes, she could call a halt, he’d promised her that power and she believed he would, but she wouldn’t.
“Yes, sir,” she said with a sniff.
She battled to stay still as he switched from one ass cheek to the other, smacking harder with each one. When she twisted her waist, he pressed his other hand into the small of her back and bolted her to his steady lap. The way he restrained her caused a spike of intoxicating adrenaline to shoot across her body. She wanted to struggle, she almost felt it was necessary, but at the same time knowing he wouldn’t tolerate a squirming submissive gave the spanking a new edgier feel to any she’d ever experienced.
If her temperament was the key to any successful relationship she wasn’t always going to get it right. In fact, she could guarantee he would have to toss her over his lap again, and again, if that was what it took to knock her into shape. Those dark fantasies she held about punishments with no safety nets weren’t perhaps as farfetched as she thought. Given the right man, alien or human, she might learn to trust somebody to give her what she needed and what she truly desired from a dominant male.
The flare of heat he’d lit in her backside was soaring to new levels. This was no game, no playful scene for the benefit of an audience. The senator from a distant planet was treating this spanking seriously. When her head hung lower and her dangling hair danced before her wet eyes, she started to bleat loudly with each smack, letting him know she was really finding it tough going.
