AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Smiling, Mal bent over once more, taking her weight onto her arms so she wouldn’t stress her lower back.
Her careful posture collapsed with the next spank. Because this time he didn’t use the paddle. He used the glove.
What felt like 100 tiny pins stabbed into her all at the same time. Mal shrieked, lunging away from him, even her deep desire to obey and submit not enough to keep her still.
“Get back here.”
“W-was that the glove?”
“Mal, turned around and stick your ass out so I can spank you.” His voice was stern, but the corners of his eyes crinkled.
Damn it, that hurt. She whimpered, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she eyed him.
“Do you deserve to be punished?”
She looked down, body relaxing. “Yes, Master.”
“Then present your ass to be spanked.”
Mal turned, backing up and bracing herself.
He was merciless, spanking her already burning cheeks with the glove. The paddle was a hard, thick feeling, much like the implement itself, while this stung and burned.
She was contrite and submissive after the paddle. Halfway through the glove spanking, she was repentant and frantic. But he didn’t stop. When she danced away from him, he stopped to check on her, but she was honest each time he asked where she was. She could take…she needed…more.
And so Benson pulled her back into position, and worked her ass, occasionally letting her rest from the glove by using the paddle.
By the time he finally relented, Mal was quiet and floaty, her ass on fire, her mind at peace.
“You took that so well. Your ass is bright red, and there are a few spots where the glove might have left you polka dot bruises.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“Spread your legs for me.”
She spread them, whimpering, when he brought his still gloved hand down between them. He stroked her inner thighs, the scratching sensation making her bounce up onto her toes, but she didn’t close her legs.
Then he used two fingers to spread her pussy, while the third stroked her clit. The feeling was beyond pain—it was pure sensation. The dozen tacks attached to the middle finger of the glove ran over her clit, lighting up the nerves in a sensation that felt the way static sounded.
Benson released her pussy as she trembled, but he wasn’t quite done. When he once more cupped her breast, she whimpered, knowing what was next.
As she suspected, he ran his thumb across her nipple once, then again, and a third time, the tacks dragging over her, catching on her nipple and scraping tender flesh.
“Y-yellow,” she stammered.
“Very well.” He switched to her other breast, and this time she accepted the sweet pleasure-pain of four passes before saying yellow.
Benson let her rest against him. He smelled like leather and soap and warm skin.
“I was wrong,” she whispered. “It’s not past tense.”
Benson reached up and undid the cuffs. With a hand on her neck, he led her over to a stack of mats. Easing her down onto it, Benson then sat beside her.
“Not past tense?” he prompted.
“It’s not ‘loved you.’ It’s ‘love you’.”
He kissed her head. “I thought I heard you say it yesterday, and I believe you, but we’ll wait until you’re not so deep in a scene to talk about our relationship outside the club. But Mal…you’re still exploring your submission—”
