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“Why? I’m already sore.”
“That was because you sank your teeth into my flesh. I still haven’t spanked you for pouring OJ down my shorts,” he exclaimed, then taking a breath, he added, “but you have you ask. If you don’t, you can leave.”
“I...uh...I,” she stammered, completely flummoxed.
“You’ve got three-seconds, Heather.”
“P-please will you spank me?” she managed, desperate to stay with him.
“You need to say, please will you spank me,Sir.”
“Uh, please will you spank me, Sir.”
“No screaming or squirming. Understood?”
“Okay.”
“The correct answer is, yes, Sir!”
“Yes, Sir.”
He began smacking from cheek to cheek, slowly at first, then gained momentum.
“Please, Sir, no more, please, please,” she begged as the pain became too much. “I swear I’ll be better. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
To her great relief, the hot slaps stopped, and he moved back on the bed.
“Silly girl,” he murmured, then leaning over her, he pressed his lips on hers in an all-consuming kiss. Circling her arms around his neck she fervently kissed him back...until he slowly straightened up and stared down at her.
“Tony, you’re amazing,” she whimpered. “I mean, really amazing. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“Amazing and what else?”
She had to think for a minute before it came to her.
“You’re the boss.”
“Good, we understand each other. Now I have an appointment, and you have to get dressed and go home.”
“Uh, can’t you stay for five minutes?” she pleaded, moving her hand to his crotch.
“If and when that happens, it won’t be five minutes,” he replied, pushing it away. “I’m getting into the shower now, and when I come out, I expect to find you gone, but we’ll see each other again, I promise.”
* * *
PADDING INTO THE ADJOININGbathroom and closing the door behind him, he turned on the hot water. If he didn’t leave soon he’d hit traffic on Pacific Coast Highway and be late for his lesson with Tia. But needs must, and taking hold of his stiffened cock, he stroked himself to a quick, satisfying climax. Leaning against the wall and catching his breath, he had to smile. Not because of Heather or his orgasm, but because he’d come so far.
His father was a mechanic with a small garage. Growing up in a blue collar family with several brothers and sisters hadn’t been easy. But Tony had been born with a gift. He was a natural athlete and excelled at sports.
He’d settled on tennis.
He wanted to shine alone.
The game got him through college, then on the pro tour. When his light began to fade, he was handsome and charming enough to lure wealthy clients, most of whom were women—and he taught them more than just how to hold a racket.
When he moved to Beverly Hills, word traveled fast and his clientele grew. He invested as much as he could afford in the stock market, which miraculously grew into a hefty sum. Pulling out his fortune, he bought his dream home on the beach in Malibu.
Once settled, word traveled even faster than it had in Beverly Hills. Tony Verdi, the tennis pro who would spank you if you provoked him, then knock your socks off with his bedroom acumen. He loved Malibu and selected his clients carefully, rejecting applicants if they didn’t appeal to him.
