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She does as I say. I get rewarded by the sight of those utterly perfect pussy lips of hers. My cock is instantly hard, throbbing and digging painfully into my pants. I reach for my zipper and pull it out as I stand up, letting it point toward her. She can’t see it so it can’t intimidate her. I can just let it be free while I do this.
“I said I’d use the crop next time you cursed.” I walk over to the chest of drawers by the window, my cock swaying as I move.
I reach into the drawer and pull out the crop, whipping it through the air as I return to stand behind her. “Six should do it,” I say. “Or none at all if you’ll answer my question. Have you come since you arrived on the island.”
“I’m never answering that,” she says, making me admire her commitment while shaking my head at her pointless stubbornness.
“I’ll have the answer from you by the time you leave my study,” I warn her. “One way or another, you will confess your sins to me.”
12
Anna
I’m bent over Leo’s desk, my legs apart, my pussy throbbing with need, listening as he stands behind me, breathing steadily. The only other sound is the clock. I’m not breathing at all. I’m biting my lip, holding it all in, knowing what’s coming.
Something has changed between us. I’m not sure what it is. Maybe as simple as the fact that he’s willing to talk to me.
He told me what was on the video. I’ve no doubt he was telling the truth. I could see it in his face. I saw the pain behind his eyes when he spoke. His cousin was tortured all those years ago but Leo is still tortured now. Blames himself for what happened.
My father ordered a boy’s death. I knew he was an asshole. I knew he did bad things. But this?
Makes me all the more determined never to go back to my family. I will make my own way in the world, whatever that involves.
He moves behind me and I tense up.
The worst part is knowing he’s right. I do want his attention. I do want his hand on me.
There must be something wrong with me to seek out pain like this. I don’t know why I want it, why I’ve always wanted it but I have. The truth is coming out of my pores and I can’t stop this rollercoaster I’m on. It’s clicking up to the top inch by inch and any moment it’s going to hurtle down and I’m going to be lost.
I know how he feels about doing this. I could tell by the way he spoke to me just now. It gives him a sense of power to dominate me. It also scares him because to do it, he must let me have power over him. I am letting him do this. I am allowing him to dominate me.
None of it makes much sense but since I came into the study everything changed. I saw him sitting there watching that video and all I wanted to do was comfort him. Right or wrong, that’s what I wanted to do.
This wasn’t why I came in here. I was going to sort things out, not get more enmeshed with him.
How is this happening? How have I gone from confronting him to bent over his desk? What is going on?
I get the answer to that when the crop whips down through the air, the tip of it smacking into my buttocks for the briefest of instants.
It’s gone a moment later but the sting remains. It’s sharp and as intense as this whole thing between us feels. The pain whips through me like a bucket of ice water over my head, waking me up, waking my nerves up, even waking my soul up.
Every part of me stands to attention, thrumming with activity and emotion as the crop comes down again.
“You will not curse,” he says, sliding the tip over my ass, stroking the spots where he struck me. “Will you? Say, No, Sir.”
“No, Sir,” I manage to get out of my mouth, the words falling and crumbling to pieces in the air. I’m a wreck. My legs are weak. My ass is in agony and I need this to stop. It has to stop because if it carries on any longer, I’m going to fall for him.
There must be something wrong with me. He’s causing me pain, punishing me with the crop, letting it slice down for a third time. All I can feel is the sting in my ass and yet my body is heating up further.
I shift my legs, trying to ease the throb coming from my clit, the need to be touched. The slightest movement of my thighs makes me shudder. My nerve endings have never felt like this in my life.
Three more strikes. Three more jabs of pain.
“Stay there,” he says as the crop drops onto the desk in front of me. “Do not move.”
I’ve no idea what’s going to happen next. For a while nothing does. I know he’s still there. I can sense him. I want to look but he’s told me not to. The crop in my eyeline is a warning of what might happen if I do.
How am I allowing this? Why am I not slapping him across the face and telling to go fuck himself? Cursing as loud as I want for as long as I want?
