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Her toes curl against the tiled floor, her skin blooming pink where my hand connects, and I almost rip my dick from my slacks and plunge into her virgin cunt right then.
“In fact, if you utter a single sound or drop your elbows again over the next few minutes, your punishment will get progressively worse. Let go of your thoughts and just feel.”
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she struggles not to keen against the next round of slaps I deliver, these slightly firmer than the last. My handprint starts to glow red on her ass, and I soothe the inflamed flesh as she tries to catch her breath, sweeping my fingers between her thighs and using some of her arousal to cool her skin.
“You’re far too fucking perfect for me,” I mutter, pushing her tank top higher up her back so I can see the dimples imprinted at the base of her spine and admire the way her taut stomach flares into her hips, wide and inviting. “So wet, without me even touching your sweet little cunt. Do you like being punished, princess?”
She doesn’t respond at first, and fear snakes through me at the thought that I’ve gone too far. I tangle my fist in her hair, tilting her head back toward the ceiling.
“Answer me when I ask you a question, Fiona. That will be the only time you may speak or think about anything other than me pleasuring you.”
“I-I don’t know,” she whispers, licking her lips.
“I know,” I say, dipping my index finger between her slick folds before slipping the tip inside of her tight channel; not far enough to shatter the innocence I want bleeding on my dick, but enough to make her squirm.
I pump in and out in careful, shallow strokes, the sounds of her sopping arousal a symphony I want to die listening to. “Hear that? That tells me you fucking love it.”
A whimper falls from her mouth as I pull my hand away and straighten to my full height. Wrapping the belt in my fist, I tease her with soft strokes against her abused flesh, every muscle in my body pulled tight like the strings on a guitar.
“If at any point this gets to be too much, yell red. Otherwise, the only sound I want to hear coming from those perfect little lips of yours is you choking on how good this feels.” My hand collides with her ass one last time, prompting her. “Tell me you understand.”
“I do.”
“Good girl.”
The moment my belt slaps against her, painting a rippling pink and red sunset along the expanse of the creamy flesh, I’m fucking gone. Lost to the sensation of the tiny cries spilling out from her pinched lips, the way her shoulders tense with each smack and release when I rear back for more, how she seems to buckle under the weight of the discipline.
But not the bad kind of buckling.
This is the kind that accompanies freedom. Vulnerability.
The shedding of masks in favor of revelations.
I belt her until I’m close to passing out from how engorged my dick is, tiny welts sprouting along her skin in my wake—not enough to keep her from sitting, but enough that she won’t forget this encounter soon.
And since I know I can’t cure her, can’t be the solution to the need for control that she latches onto so tightly, I’ll have to settle for the reminder and hope it makes a difference.
The belt falls to the floor, and I move against her, collecting spit at the front of my mouth and letting it drizzle down the crack of her ass, smoothing the saliva with my palm over the areas that look particularly painful.
I worked up to the harder hits, but if you work at the same spot over and over, no matter how gentle you handle it, eventually even that will split and bleed.
She starts to push up off the desk, but I push her chest down so her tits are flush with the wood, then grab her hips and drop to my knees, once again holding her in place.
“Don’t move,” I say, her soft groan making my cock pulse behind my zipper.
Gliding my hands down over her hips, I push her thighs farther apart, revealing the dripping crescent shape of her plump cunt. My fingers stroke through her folds in painstakingly slow sweeps, her arousal sticky and alluring as I coat myself in it.
Using my index finger to spread her, I bare her throbbing clit and flick my tongue over the angry bundle of nerves, my first taste of her sending a sharp spark down my spine. It collects at the base, making my balls tighten as she writhes forward, a gasp ripping from her throat.
“What are you doing?” she breathes, pressing her forehead into my desk as her back arches.
“Well, before your little outburst, I was about to eat lunch. I’m famished.” I lick her from top to bottom, moving to suck on the inside of her thigh before diving back in. “And you, princess... well, you’re about to meet God.”
Burying my face between her legs, I alternate between laving and sucking, swirling my tongue in fast, circular motions around her clit while holding her hips in place. She bucks against me, swiveling like she can’t get close enough but also isn’t sure she wants to, and I lose myself in the rhythm.
She tastes like the candy you’re denied as a child, sweet and sugary, yet completely off-limits because it’s no good for you.
The kind of candy that, when you finally sneak a piece, ruins you for all other vices, a sticky obsession that overtakes your entire mind for all of eternity.
