Page 115 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

"I want to slap that gorgeous ass hard, Lacey, so you know it's mine. Tell me how that makes you feel."

It felt like electricity. I wanted to lose myself, but he didn't let me. "Yes," I said. "I want that, please." My voice quavered.

Then he slapped my right ass cheek, hard, once, and I gasped and my hips stopped.

"Keep dancing," he commanded.

I did. I moved for him with the sting still blooming, and the awful thing, that I loved the sting. The heat of it went exactly where everything else had been going all night. How did he know that about me? How did he know before I did? Then another slap, the same place, and the pain blossoming. I gasped. It really hurt. But I just swayed more.

"Color?"

I leaned down further, raised my ass more. It hurt, burned, but— "Green."

Then immediately a third, and I felt tears. I was afraid of another but I craved it. A wordless feeling suffused me. He can do whatever he wants, even if it hurts.

He drew my panties down, all the way, and I stepped out of them, and then there was nothing left between me and the room. His hand ran up the back of my legs and down, and then between them, close, close to where I was aching for it, and not there. Not quite.

"Push out, Lacey. My hand's right behind you." Enjoying it. "A little more." Teasing me.

And I did. I pushed back toward his hand, and then farther, chasing it, past anything I'd have called dignity an hour ago.

"Please."

"Good girl."

He ran his fingers down through me, slow, and the pleasure shot up so hard my knees nearly went. He rubbed and slid and I started to shake, and then one finger pushed inside, and I pushed back onto it, deep, greedy, yes, deep, everything—

And he drew it out. And stepped away.

The emptiness where he'd been was a physical thing, a hollow that clenched around nothing, and I understood he was doing it on purpose.

"Turn around."

I turned. He was watching me, calm, licking his fingers clean.

"Keep your legs open. Keep dancing."

And I did, naked in his front room, wet and shaking and already past begging, while he looked at me like a man well pleased with what he'd caught.

"Very nice," he said.

Then he took my hand again and led me up the stairs, me naked, him half-dressed, the house dark and quiet and no one's but his. Just him, seeing all of me, the whole way up, in no hurry.

His room was like the rest of him. Everything squared and lined up, the books on the shelf running down by height, one of Jessica's drawings framed on the wall. A man who kept his entire world to the millimeter, and had just spent an hour taking mine apart.

"On your knees, beautiful."

I went down. God, it felt right.

"Look up at me."

I looked up, hands on my knees, and the word came and I let it. Submissive. I loved how it tasted in my mind.

He undid his belt and drew his pants down while I watched his face, because his face was where the calm was, and the calm was what wrecked me. Then the rest of him, right there, and I licked my lips.

He smiled and stroked my hair.

"You want to suck my cock, don't you, Lacey? You want it in your mouth. You want to taste me."