I’m about to walk to him when Rosier tells me, “Wait.” I knit my brows in confusion and he explains, “I’ve never seen you like this. I want to appreciate it.”
I stand there, not sure what else to do.
After a few moments of looking me over, Rosier nods, then pats his thighs. “Come here. You know what to do.”
“Doyouknow what to do?” I retort. But I return to the couch and lay across his thighs like before.
Rosier immediately palms my ass again, his other hand holding my chin so I’m forced to look forward.
“I know how to make devils submit, but you are a bit more of a challenge.”
A firm hand spanks me, and I make a sound like a squeak toy. Rosier’s hand rests on my ass, his fingers giving my cheek a good squeeze. Then he spanks my other cheek, and I manage to stay quiet.
“Interesting…” he mutters to himself. His hand leaves my ass. “You’re going to keep count of every time I spank you, understand?”
“Yes,” I respond, my voice breather then I intend. I must sound so desperate–and maybe I am.
“Hmm… I’m not sure I trust you to actually listen. Stubborn little thing.” I grit my teeth, wishing he would start already, as he says, “Repeat back to me, what is it you’re supposed to do?”
“Count off every time you spank me,” I tell him, finding it impossible to hide the frustration in my voice.
“Good girl.” With that he brings his hand right down on my ass, hard. My whole body jerks on impact, and Rosier holds my chin tighter.
I gasp and almost forget what I’m supposed to do. “One!” I say much too loudly.
Rosier doesn’t seem to mind because he spanks me again, right on the same spot, leaving a stinging feeling.
“Two.”
He keeps going, the sharp sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing in my apartment.
Finally I count off, “Ten.”
He chuckles, rubbing my stinging flesh. “There. Isn’t it so much easier when you comply?” He squeezes my chin. “But we’re not done.”
Good,I want to say, but he spanks my other cheek, and all I can say is, “One.”
The whole reason I have a“drawer full of whips and paddles”is because no one ever does it right. At least no guy I’ve ever dated. Every time I’ve looked at my butt after a spanking session, I’ve found nothing, not even a hint of purple.
I don’t think that’s going to be a problem this time around.
“Nine…” I bite down on my lip with the final impact. “Ten.” I breathe.
Rosier draws little circles with his finger on my upper thigh, giving me a chance to decompress.
“Hmmm… I think you need a little more discipline. Again.”
He wastes no time giving me another spank and I count off—“One!” Then he spanks me again, all too quickly, and my voice falters. I pant and gasp, and Rosier clicks his tongue as his palm rubs against my sensitive bottom.
“The cracks are starting to appear… Again.”
This time I manage to speak with confidence despite my cheeks burning. “One…” His harsh smack makes my whole body shake. Again. “Two.” On it goes ‘til, finally, “Nine…” One final, harsh smack against my stinging rear. “Ten.”
Suddenly, Rosier grabs the waistband of my panties and pulls them so the fabric slides against my folds. His fingers dance along my thighs and rear but never touch me where I want it most. And he knows it.
“You really do love punishment, I can see it…” He chuckles. “Little masochistic witch. Little sopping cunt.” He sits me up so I’m straddling his lap, then he shifts his leg so I’m resting on one thigh. “Why don’t you finish yourself off on my knee.”
Again, he’s not phrasing it as a question. Though, it’s not a command either; I know what a command sounds like on his tongue. He leaves room for me to say no–and when I don’t respond immediately, he reaches up to brush some curls behind my ear.
