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I give him a little squeeze. Of consent. Of willingness. Ofyes.
“Goodgirl,” he growls. “Take your punishment and I promise I’ll take care of you like you never dreamed possible.” His voice doesn’t just speak, it rolls, like an avalanche coming down the mountain onto me.
The warm weight of his hand is suddenly gone and in that sweet, sickening moment, as I feel his body shift, I try to remember if I’ve ever been spanked before.
Thesmackof the first strike fills the room before my nerves catch up. Then, a microsecond later, the pain, the searing hot pain tears through me as I silently scream, panting in staccato breaths.
“Ohshit,” I finally choke into his leg, burying my face and sinking my teeth into the desert camo as millions of invisible needles radiate out from the point of impact.
Another strike, before my senses can truly comprehend the pain of the first, this one harder. Then another, and another, and the hotness of the pain turns cold as ice.
And again. Andagain.
His hand comes down faster still, each layer of white-hot pain rippling outward, layering on top of the last, combining into a blaze of heat so intense that I bite down on my lip, until I taste the tinge of blood on my tongue.
“Trent, oh my God,” I beg, wiggling side to side, rolling my hips, applying pressure downward onto my toes.
Another. And another. I try frantically to draw in a full breath between the blows, but each strike expels all the air outward, leaving me gasping and gulping and shaking and drooling.
Yes, I’mdrooling.
The pain simmers into a cauldron of emotions; dark, sensual, primal, forbidden.Noandyesandwhy me, why this?
“You like that, Kitty Kat? You like taking a spanking from your big brother?”
The only word in my head isyes.But the pain steals my breath. And I don’t want to speak—a quick, dark thought passes through my head that this is a joke. He’s trying to embarrass me. But it couldn’t be true. He was the only one who always stood by me. Never wavered. Never turned away.
“Yes,” I whisper into his leg, so soft I’m not even sure I’ve said it out loud.
Another. And another. And another. And another. He moves them around as if he knows how much I can take. When I think I can’t take another strike in the same spot, he moves his target until I’m sure my entire backside is ripe and red from where my thighs meet my round cheeks to where my tan line from my bikini bottoms makes a stripe across my back.
“Owww,”I cry out, my voice echoing in the cathedral ceilings of the massive bedroom.
My skin is a minefield. Every touch, every whisper of air exploding the nerve endings into raw pain and sharp agony. I’m kicking at the floor, pushing the tips of my toes against it, raising myself, shifting, wiggling, praying I can take more.
For him.
But then, his touch changes. The punishment stops. It’s over. I can tell it from the way his huge warm palms rest on my screaming, tender flesh. His rough palms heavy on the hot skin. Long fingers curling gently as if to say, this ismine.
I draw a deep breath, warmth gathering down low, radiating from the inside out.
“Goddamn it, Kat, you’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking beautiful…” His deep voice is calm, almost pained. Strong and clear. Grounding and anchoring.
The ache in my belly, in my bones—it is almost unbearable. Every primal cell in my body needs to see him, to touch him and for him to touch me in return.
My mind swirls, thoughts of tracing my fingers over each hard, sculpted muscle of his chest, that deep indent that leads down from his belly. His cock. His balls. His thighs.
“You okay, baby girl?” he asks in a way that feels so intimate my eyes start to burn.
The flutter in my belly returns and brings me back to earth.
“Yes. I’m… I’m okay.” Even through the outrageous pain he just delivered, I am so much more than okay. So much more okay than I ever dreamed I could be.
With a firm, guiding grip, he lifts me off his lap onto my wobbly legs. I steady myself on his shoulder as he pulls me between his open knees and his fingers trace the straps of my sundress, easing them off my shoulders. Instinct moves my arms to cover myself, to prevent him from seeing my naked body underneath.
“Stop it,” he says, with a firm grip of my wrist. “Look at me.”
I lift my eyes to trace the lines of his face. His hard jaw. His beautiful self. And I feel so…unworthy.“I’m embarrassed for you to see me.”
