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“What?” I ask through swollen lips, my fingers curling into my palms.
He doesn’t answer. Not directly. “Tell me what I’m going to find under your skirt when I lift it up, Alice.”
Heat slicks my flesh. I started getting damp when he walked out onto the set, leaving my inner thighs sticky and sensitive now. “Panties,” I breathe. Is this really happening? Holy crap. Holy crap. “J-just panties.”
“Not just panties.”
After a moment, I shake my head. “No.”
He pinches the hem of my skirt. “Are there frilly, little girl panties under this skirt, Alice?”
My vision winks at the words little girl said in his clipped British accent, and I know if I wasn’t leaning on the piece of furniture, I’d be kneeling at his feet. Unable to do anything else. “Yes. Pink.”
“Pink, are they?” he murmurs, inching up the garment, higher and higher until the bunched material is settled around my hips—and for the first time in my life, I’m sharing my secret with a man. I’m showing Sebastian panties that aren’t meant for women. Not really. They have ruffles on the backside and bows on the hips. They’re not meant to be sexy, they’re meant to be innocent, but…
They’re the only underwear that make me feel sexy.
That make me feel like Alice at all.
“Fuck me,” he breathes.
I tense. “Do you…like them?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
“How did you know I was wearing them?” I whisper.
“I have no idea,” he admits, his voice thick, deeper than before. Like he can’t swallow. His fingertips graze the ruffles, drawing a sob from my throat. “Just like I have no idea why I need to pull them down and spank the tears right out of you. Only that I sense how much you need it.”
Do I need to be spanked?
Joyful little pinpricks are spreading from my belly, up to my breasts where my nipples peak excitedly. The mere suggestion of his palm cracking down on my bottom eases the anxiety inside me. The anxiety I’d been feeling since I was ambushed on the baking show, which only got worse when I lost in spectacular fashion. There’s been a knot of tension in my middle and I didn’t realize it until now when his hand on my backside starts to loosen it.
I lift my chin and meet his glittering eyes in the darkness, my heart thumping over the intensity I find in his expression. All of it focused on me. “I’ll take whatever you think I need, Sebastian.”
He appears rocked by hearing his name on my lips, his unsteady hand fisting in the waistband of my underwear. “Yes, you will.” His jaw flexes as he yanks down my girly, pink panties, letting them catch around my knees. “By God, this perfect, round little ass will feel the strike of my hand and when I’m finished, your tears will be dried. Won’t they, my sweet darling?”
It’s so perfect. Exactly as I’ve dreamed. How have I known all along it would be like this between us? “Yes.” I drag my breasts side to side on the dressing table, desperate for friction, but it’s too smooth and I whine in frustration. “I promise I’ll be all better…” Daddy.
I clamp my lips together before the word can escape, but it burns in my throat, dying to be let out. What would he think of me if I called him that?
In the mirror, I watch Sebastian rear back with his hand, connecting with my right ass cheek with a precise swat—and it’s like I suddenly have twenty-twenty vision in a world that’s always been blurry. My mouth falls open and my hips tilt up shamelessly, as if my body has been waiting for this. There’s a ripple of completion traveling from my head, down to my toes.
Oh Lord. Again. Again.
I don’t have to beg out loud to get what I want. Sebastian simply gives it to me, harsh slap after harsh slap, wetness spreading in the folds of my sex and coasting down the insides of my legs. I can breathe. I can breathe for the first time.
On the fifth swat, Sebastian leans down, breathing heavily in my ear. “It upsets me to see you cry.”
There’s a twist in my chest at his honesty. “I’m sorry.”
“When you cry…I want to comfort you.” I catch his frown reflected in the mirror. “I also want to feel your tears sliding down my stomach.”
If he can be honest with me, I can do the same. I feel so free and myself right now, I don’t know if I have any other choice but to say the words bursting free of my mind. “You want comforting me to turn into…more. Even if it’s…wrong. Or if we pretend it’s wrong,” I whisper, my cheeks flaming. “You want to dry my tears and make more of them at the same time.”
