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“When I bare your backside, I’ll find it red and rough. Soon it will look like a ripe tomato. If you want me to take it further, keep up the bullshit.”
Stepping back, he watched her trembling fingers hold the muffin to her mouth and take a bite. She needed the sustenance. The long hike through the woods in the heat would have sapped her strength. The muffin wasn’t much, but it would tide her over for a little while.
Picking up his mug, he drank the rich brew and studied her. He had to admire her moxie, and he couldn’t fault her for trying to bolt. He would’ve done the same. But he still had to punish her. And he had another, more personal reason for wanting to take her down to his basement. One that sent the blood pumping through his cock.
“Good,” he declared, watching her finish the muffin and take the last swallow of her coffee. “Now, Steph, you’re going to tell me why I have to punish you again.”
She hesitated.
“Don’t eventhinkof fucking with me,” he said sharply.
Her shoulders slumped. “How did you figure it out?” she murmured, staring at her hands.
“I’m the one who asks the questions, and you’re the one who answers them. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mr. Moretti.”
“Why do I have to punish you again?”
“I told you Max was expecting a text from me, but he wasn’t,” she admitted. “I lied.”
“I’m not hearing an apology.”
She paused. “You want the truth, so, uh, I’m sorry you caught me, but how can I be sorry for trying to get out of here?”
Pursing his lips to stop himself from smiling, he crossed his arms and shook his head. “Trying to get out of here, as you put it, only upset me, and that’s never a good idea, but I do understand.”
“You do? Does that mean—?”
“It means I understand,” he said, lowering his voice. “Nothing more, nothing less. You tried to pull a fast one. I made it very clear what would happen if you screwed up, and I’m a man of my word. Go to that door by the window.”
* * *
Nervously slipping off the stool, Steph moved across the kitchen, stopped, and looked back at him. Marco was staring at his phone, but slipping it back into his pocket, he walked across to join her.
“I’m impressed,” he declared. “You didn’t take it upon yourself to open it.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” she whispered. “Believe it or not, I’m a quick learner.”
“Oh, I believe it,” he muttered, reaching past her to slip a key in the lock and turn the handle. “Go down the stairs.”
Her stomach churned, but stepping onto the landing, she started down the steps. Though it appeared to be a regular basement with boxes stacked on work benches, as she reached the bottom she noticed the room extended off to the right. Preparing herself, she continued nervously around the corner. Just as she’d expected, in the center of a small alcove sat a padded bench with a raised hump in the middle, identical to the one she’d seen at his club.
“Take off your shoes, socks, and those parachute pants, and Steph, don’t make me repeat the instruction.”
Butterflies fluttering in her stomach and fresh heat crossing her face, she unlaced her trainers, pulled off her socks, then slid her pants down her legs and placed them on the nearest counter. She expected an order to remove her panties, but to her surprise and relief he pointed to the bench.
“Get in position.”
Images of her night at the BDSM venue flashed through her head.
She’d desperately wanted to be one of the submissives.
Now it was happening.
Be careful what you wish for,she thought as she climbed on and laid over the hump.
“Legs together.”
