Page 35
“Be reasonable, Alastair,” I murmur, knowing I’m digging my grave deeper. But that’s all part of the fun, now isn’t it? “My pussy is sore. You have your way with me whenever the desire strikes you, fucking me in my sleep and waking me with your head between my thighs. It’s Christmas. Don’t I deserve a moment of reprieve?”
He tsks, shaking his head. “You act as though your tight little body isn’t writhing beneath me, begging to be filled with my cum at all hours of the day. Finding you spread out on my desk like my next meal where anyone could walk in on us and discover just what improves their headmaster’s mood so much speaks to the contrary.”
I groan as he slaps my pussy with the crop, the warm wetness of my arousal leaking from my needy cunt. He smirks. “And here you are with your smart mouth, talking back to me as if your cunt isn’t greedily awaiting her next lesson.”
Running the curved leather over my pebbled nipples and down my waist leaves my chest heaving, back arching the lower he travels. My muscles clench in preparation for the next lashing but none comes.
“Relax,” he murmurs. “Spread these pretty thighs nice and wide for me.”
A whimper falls from my lips as I do, the cool air in the room teasing over my flushed skin.
“I’m going to spank this pussy, my pussy, six times to punish you for making me wait to fill your greedy cunt. And then, I’m going to take you like the little slut you are for me and you’re going to flood my cock like the good girl I know you can be. Got it?” Fuck. I love when he gets like this.
He grips my chin, tilting my face so I’m forced to stare back into those glittering gray-blue eyes. “I need your words.”
“Y-yes.”
“Yes, what?”
I swallow thickly. “Yes, my corruption.”
He hums with approval and slides his hands to cup the backs of my thighs, pushing my knees to my chest. When my pussy is exposed to him and I’m unable to even attempt the possibility of saving myself from his merciless lashings, he begins his lesson.
Slap. “Oh, God,” I groan out.
“Never call another man's name when it’s me who owns you so thoroughly.” Slap. “That’s it. Take your punishment like my good slut.”
My back bows off the bed. Tingles of pleasure and pain erupt in an explosion of sensation that darkens my vision.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
“Just one more,” he murmurs, tossing the riding crop to the floor. It clatters to the hardwood, the additional use of my senses jolting my body.
Pussy clenching. Core tightening. Skin burning.
He slides one thick finger through my wet heat. “Drenched for me.”
“Only you.”
“Mm.” He plunges that finger inside me, curling it to tease against my walls, and I spasm around the digit, tossing my head back, back bowing off the silken sheets. Wrenching the finger free, he delivers one final, punishing slap to my pussy that throws me over the edge. I squirt all over his hand, crying out his name as I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m panting and writhing with the intensity of the orgasm that shutters my whole body.
There’s not a moment of time to recover before his face is between my thighs, licking every last drop of my arousal from my overly sensitive pussy. I’ve barely caught my breath, but Alastair is a patient man whose sanity has just snapped.
He hoists me up, my shaking limbs wrapping around his waist and neck as he carries me to the corner of our bed chambers, slamming my back against our ever-growing collection of literature. Snow clings to the opalescent emerald green stained glass window, the sun shining over the horizon as a reminder that five years ago on this very day, we may have met a much different fate.
I’m not allowed a moment longer to take in the magnificent view. Alastair’s palm wraps around my throat, pressing into my airway like my favorite string of pearls. He doesn’t loosen his hold on me, reaching above my head for the pair of glasses resting on the shelf. He slides them on and smirks. “Far be it from me to muddy such a magnificent view with the misfortune of my astigmatism.”
“I do love the nerdy look on you,” I murmur with what little breath is left in my lungs.
His thumb flicks over my pulse, fingers tightening marginally, and that sadistic twitch of his lips deepens. “Surely not as much as I love the sight of my little wife at my mercy. And to think you’d said my heart was pure.” He chuckles a mirthless sound that does nothing but drive me wild.
“What do you plan to do with your little wife now that she’s in the palm of your hand?” I ask, tightening my thighs around his waist in invitation. Sometimes, often, in fact, he enjoys stretching these moments between us to an exhausting degree, always pushing me to my limits, awaiting the moment I’ll finally beg for his cock to fill all my holes as if I weren’t the one in complete control mere minutes ago.
He grips his dick between us, running the head of his engorged length through my slick center. I grind against him, and he tightens his hold on my throat, the wood digging deeper into my back. “I’m sorry, what was that, my slut? Were you going to beg for something?”
My lungs burn, cheeks flaming as I work around a swallow. He doesn’t let up.
“P-please.” I barely manage to get the word out, my mind going foggy with the lack of oxygen.
