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He lifts the belt and I flinch, preparing for another hard spanking, but this time the leather caresses my skin like a kiss. The pain from a second ago somehow magnifies the sensation. I shiver, unable to stop my pounding heart. Almost cruelly, he spreads my legs by yanking them apart.
My pulse races. The cool, unyielding leather licks between my legs. My clit throbs.
Ugh, my traitorous,traitorousbody.
“Tell me again you don’t like being overpowered.”
He’s fucked me and made me climax so many times, maybe my body responds on its own by now to his overbearing ways. He’s spanked me a few times but never used his belt, and other than a warning swat a few times, he’s never actually punished me.
“Not like this,” I say, but my voice melts into a moan when he strokes the leather between my legs. “I—I can’t… I don’t like when you treat me like a child.”
A quick flick of his wrist sends searing pain to my pussy when the leather licks bare skin. Again, he whips me there, and again, until my pussy throbs and I’m parting my legs without thinking this through, dying for some relief to the pressure between my legs.
“I am hardly treating you like a child.” His voice is thick with emotion and arousal as he alternates little flicks of his wrist on my pussy, my thighs, my ass, painting pain and pleasure all over the most sensitive parts of my body. “Am I?”
“Mmmph,” I say in response, unable to formulate words or express what I’m thinking. Well, no, he’s being all sexy dominant husband on me now, but he did just punish me.
“I haven’t changed any of my expectations for you, have I?”
I shake my head as my body combusts, heated and aroused with flickers of pain at the edges that only magnify everything I’m feeling.
“From the first day we met, I told you I’d expect you to obey. On the second day, you took vows to me and I made it clear I expected you to uphold those vows. Here we are, a week after we first met, and I’ve been nothing but consistent from day one.”
Somewhere along the line, he lost the belt and now his huge, rough palm’s stroking my fiery ass as he talks. Every touch of his fingers makes fire flicker between my legs. He caresses and strokes then spanks and kneads. The warring sensations make me half-crazy with need.
“Christ,” he curses, when his fingers part my legs and he easily traces slick arousal through my folds. “You’re sopping wet.”
I want to deny it. I don’t want to admit being punished like that arouses me, because that spanking fuckinghurt,and if he gets any notion in his head about spanking turning me on like this, he’ll spank me daily because he wants to, and I’m not so sure about that. I mean, there are other ways of getting laid without involving a session over his knee.
I gasp when he lifts me up, holds me against his chest, then stalks to the bed. It’s an easy matter for him to place me over the edge so my belly hits the bed and my bare feet dig into the plush carpet on the floor. I reach my hands out on instinct and fist the bedspread just as he goes behind me and straddles me.
“I need to fuck you,” he whispers in my ear. The rough rasp of his voice sends shivers skating down my spine. “Spread your legs.”
I quickly obey. I drop my head to the bed, my cheek against the blanket. I heave in a breath and grasp the blanket harder. My knuckles turn white.
I tremble when his heavy hand falls to my neck and he presses me onto the bed. I can breathe, but I’m trapped under the weight of his hand. Bending his mouth toward me, he nips the tip of my ear, then drags his tongue over the stinging skin. My mouth falls open in a silent scream, unable to make a sound to combat the rapid pounding of my heart.
His teeth sink into my shoulder, my neck, as he tastes his way along my skin before he fucks me.
Is he committing me to memory?
Or does he want me docile and subservient?
And does it matter?
My mouth falls open when his thick thumbs find my ass, kneading the tender flesh before he dips his fingers lower and slides them through my slick arousal. I freeze, fearing he’s going to take me like this.
“You said you were going to lead me up to that,” I croak, half terrified and half electrified by the unknown of what he’ll do to me next. And isn’t that part of it, the attraction that pulls me to him, the not knowing what’s coming next or what he’s doing? The way he commands and overpowers me so I’ve lost all control, the very thing he demands above all. I never knew I was attracted to authority. In fact, I thought I’d push against such treatment after the way I was raised.
But I don’t. I don’t at all. I crave his compelling, firm touch. I covet the sound of his voice washing over me with authority and conviction and heated awareness. I lust after his unyielding grip on my wrists, being conquered by him, the heft of his body atop mine. When he gives me that stern look, one brow raised as if to challenge me to defy him, my heart beats a little faster.
I thought I was immune to the power of seduction, but I was wrong.Sowrong.
I close my eyes at the sound of his zipper, at the knowledge that he’s going to take me whether I like it or not and ohhow I want that.I lose myself to sensation.
The soft whoosh of his clothes sliding to the floor. The fierce grip of his hands on my naked skin. The heat of his naked flank pressed up against my throbbing ass. I hold my breath—yes,the feel of silk-covered steel when he slides his length to my core.
At the first thrust, I start breathing again. At the second, I moan with pleasure. By the third, I’m riding his erection, meeting him thrust for thrust, my climax building with every perfect, savage movement he makes inside me.
