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"That’s another five slaps.”
"No," I hiccup.
"Yes," he says with conviction.
"You have lost your mind."
"Twenty slaps."
"Wh-what?" I sputter. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Twenty-five, Flower." He massages my already aching arsecheeks, and pain shivers up my spine. My pussy clenches painfully at the same time, and damn him, but this is not good. This is so not good.
"Fine," I say through gritted teeth, "I’ll count."
"Start now."
I hesitate.
"Now, Flower." His voice lowers to a hush, and I shiver. Shit, that mean-Dom voice of his. It’s w-a-y too hot, too coercive, too everything I am coming to hate—and love—about him. Not love. Wrong word. I hate him. I hate him.
"Start counting, or should I add another five—"
"Twenty-five," I burst out, and his palm connects with my backside.
"Twenty-four, Twenty-three…"
By the time I finish the countdown, tears flow down my cheeks, my arse is on fire, my pussy hurts even though he has not touched it, and my nipples feel swollen and sore and achy even though he has come nowhere near them. Maybe that is the issue. If he would only stop massaging the pain into my arse long enough to fuck me, I could come, and we could get this over with.
I push back my hips so my butt pushes into to his big palm, and he pauses. "I know, baby," he croons. "I know how much you are empty for my dick, but sadly, I can’t cram it inside you yet."
"I don’t want your dick," I snap, and he spanks my ass again.
"Don’t lie to me."
"Ow!" I cry out. "That hurts, you asshole!"
"Yep, time I took you there too." He slides his hand around to play with my pussy lips. "Good thing you are so wet I won’t need lube; not that there is any available here."
"You wouldn’t." I stare at him over my shoulder. "You … you … wouldn’t do that."
He clicks his tongue. "There you go, trying to dare me again."
"I … I am not."
"So, you won’t mind if I tie you up, first, hmm?" He thrusts his fingers inside my channel, and the squelching sound is a reminder of just how wet I am. It’s not possible. Honestly, he hurt me, and yet my body seems to like it. What the hell is wrong with me?
He grinds his heel into my clit, and my entire body bucks. A shudder grips me, and I throw my head back and pant, then pause when he pulls his finger out of me. He walks around to stand in front of me, then holds his fingers up to my mouth. "Open," he orders.
I part my lips, and he slides his fingers inside. The taste of my cum, mixed with that darker taste of his skin fills my mouth. I dig my teeth into his finger and bite down. He laughs. I bite him hard enough to draw blood, and his gaze intensifies. The coppery tang of his blood, once again, fills my palate, and his breathing grows heavy.
My eyes widen in disbelief as I look at him. "Fuck, you like that, don’t you?"
He smirks.
I scowl at him, and he chuckles. He pulls his finger out from between my lips, then points it at me. "Stay."
Like I’m going anywhere, jerk face!
