Page 7 of Carter

He spanks me again. “When I get you home, that dress goes straight into the trash.”

I love this dress. I wore it when I was single, and all the boys loved it too. I feel an argument bubbling in my throat but I’m shocked when the words slip from my mouth. Two words I’ve never, ever said before. Not even to my own father.

“Yes, sir.”

My quiet response must shock him as well because the spanking stops. Gently, he brushes his palm over my bottom. My aching skin tingles. Maybe he’s finished.

His hand stills. His voice changes. “Look at me, Sasha. Do you want me to stop? Really stop?”

I twist enough to meet his eyes. My breathing is ragged. “Not us. Not this. But not here anymore. Take me home.”

He releases me at once and draws my dress back into place.

“Done.”

That one word settles something inside me. Angry Carter is still Carter. I can draw a line, and he will hear me.

He helps me stand, keeping one hand at my waist until my legs are steady.

“We’re not finished talking,” he says.

“I know.”

“And the dress is not the issue.”

I swallow. “The lying and running are.”

“Exactly.”

My face burns, but for the first time tonight the shame feels attached to something I actually did wrong.

His thumb brushes once over my knuckles. “Home.”

I nod.

This time, I go with him because I choose to.

Put me in the corner? My tummy turns. To be put in the corner, my ass on display, it’s humiliating. It sounds worse than being spanked. Fear strikes my heart. “But haven’t you already… punished me enough?”

The spanking may be over for now, but the conversation is not. We still have to address the fact that I lied, disobeyed a direct safety rule, and ran away.

My ass cheeks clench. I’m in so much pain. “Carter, I’m sorry. Truly I am⁠—”

He says, “There’s something waiting for you in the bedroom at home. And before anything happens, we’re going to talk about what you want, what I want, and what this relationship is going to be.”

“No! Let’s go. I’m ready to go!” I cry.

He allows me to stand up. I quickly tug at the hem of my skirt, pulling it down over my throbbing bottom. Sniffling, I wipe at my face with the back of my hand. I don’t want Carter to see the tears that are welling up in my eyes.

My ass stings. My pussy burns for him. My nipples are hard as they strain against my dress.

He takes my hand in his. I wrap my fingers around it, tightly. I lean in close to him as he leads me out of the club. A desire to be as near him as possible wells up within me. My other hand finds his forearm, holding it as we walk.

His head is high, his jaw jutted out—daring anyone to stop him.

Walking through that club, right past all the people who’ve just seen me get spanked is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Too ashamed to make eye contact with anyone, I keep my eyes trained on the floor. I think I hear Manny chuckle at me as we walk out the door.

Just a few minutes ago, I had been so confident, so carefree. Grinding away on the dance floor.