“Good girl. I’ll give you a dozen firmer swats and see how you’re feeling.”
My mouth falls open as he spanks me harder. It stings, but it feels so good. Cathartic, just like he suggested. It’s like each additional slap against my skin helps me settle deeper into the mattress. It’s absolving me of my imaginary sins. I’ve read about that, but it wasn’t possible to comprehend without experiencing it.
My ass is hot when he stops. I’m breathing heavily, but it’s from excitement.
“More, Baby girl?”
“Yes, please.” I feel emboldened to ask for what I need. I’m certain he has more to give. I’m grateful he’s gradually guiding me into this new world of impact play. He’s giving me time to acclimate.
“Six more. I’ll make them count, sweetheart, and then that’s it for tonight.”
Part of me wants to argue that six won’t be enough, but I need to trust Mace to know what I can endure. “Yes, Sir.”
The next swat packs a punch. My ass burns. My body shakes as if from aftershocks. And the vibrations from the firmer slap seem to reach straight for my pussy. My clit quivers.
The next one makes me moan. I try to arch my head, but he’s restraining me. My breasts are pressing into the mattress, but they feel achy.
The third and fourth come in quick succession, one on each cheek, higher, his hand leaving heated skin in its wake.
I’m still holding my breath from the shock when he delivers the last two swats lower, at the junction between my bottom and my thighs.
I clench my butt cheeks, gasping for air. The sting is tremendous. He didn’t hold back with the last two. Or maybe he did. Maybe he has the capability of striking me much harder.
When Mace sets his hand on one of my thighs, I cry out. I’m frustrated for reasons I don’t understand.
“Breathe, Baby girl.”
I’m not sure I can. All my focus is on the pulsing, burning flesh of my backside. Inhaling is not on my radar.
“Autumn…” he warns.
I suck in a breath and let it out, trembling with need. Need for what? And then I know. I’m so fucking horny, I’m about to come. That’s madness. He’s not touching me intimately. I grip the pillow between my legs as hard as I can, trying to ease the need, but to no avail.
“Please…” I beg. I can’t help myself. I think I might die if I don’t get to orgasm.
“Please, what, Baby girl?”
Ugh. He knows. He’s smart. He wants me to say it. “Mace…” I whine.
“I’m not a mind-reader, sweetheart,” he jokes.
“Yes, you are,” I quip.
He chuckles. “Okay, on this issue, you’re right. I’m aware your pussy is pulsing with need. I’ve been watching you squirm. Do you want to come, Autumn?”
“Yes,” I blurt without hesitation.
“Do you want me to touch your pussy, Baby girl?”
“Yes, Sir. Please…” I’m begging. I don’t care. I’m going to self-combust.
Mace eases his grip on my thigh. His fingers slowly trail up, toward my quivering, greedy pussy. No man has ever touched me there. No one has ever made me come except me. “Please,” I implore again, panting heavily.
His other hand moves from my head to the small of my back, bracing me against the pillow. The fingers between my legs lightly touch my folds.
I nearly shoot off the bed. I would have if he weren’t still holding me down.
Mace strokes a single finger between my swollen lips and circles my clit.
