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“I’m not naughty,” I replied, and he chuckled quietly, the sound dangerous and arousing at the same time. He didn’t believe me and neither did I.
His chin grazed against my shoulder as he whispered in my ear once more.
“What do you think should happen to a very naughty girl who walked in on a naked man on purpose?”
My stomach catapulted all the way down to the tips of my toes. I pressed my body flat against his chest and tried to ignore the way my nipples were pebbled inside my bra.
“I… don’t know…” I tried.
“Yes, you do, little girl,” he murmured.
I blushed hard. My bottom stung enough to tell me the answer, but it had already begun to fade into a memory that I knew I would fantasize about time and time again in the coming days. What if there was more to just getting a spanking though? I gazed back into his eyes and decided.
I was going to find out the dark secrets hidden within those tumultuous depths.
“I guess she should bepunished… sir,” I tried. My bottom clenched hard. Would he put me back over his knee? Would he do something else? I worried my bottom lip, unable to contain my nervous excitement.
“Mhmmm. I agree, little girl,” he said, his voice a mix of stern warning and playful flirtatiousness. His hands slid up the side of my waist beneath my shirt, just brushing against the lower curves of my breasts and I moaned softly.
“Sir?”
“The punishment should fit the crime, shouldn’t it, little girl?”
I shivered. I would never tire of him calling me that. With him, it made me feel small and incredibly desirable. The more he said it, the more I liked it.
“Yes, sir,” I said hoarsely. My core was so tight with desire that it ached.
“You saw all of me, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“It’s time I saw all of you, naughty girl,” he stated, his voice steady and confident. I whimpered, more out of nervousness than anything else.
“Yes, sir,” I replied, unable to hide the way my voice trembled.
“Stand up for me,” he guided. This time, his hands never left my body, and I was grateful for it. I placed my foot on the floor and then the other, feeling my legs shake beneath me. He stood up in front of me and cupped my face once more.
“You are so very beautiful,” he whispered.
His fingers flitted down my neck as he slowly knelt down. He began by removing my shoes. His hands were gentle against the back of my ankles, and I leaned forward, placing my hand on his shoulder for support. The moment my bare feet touched the floor, I shivered, not from the cold but from feeling even smaller when he stood back up in front of me.
It was a heady sensation and I wavered from side to side.
His hands surrounded my waist, pausing for just long enough to stabilize me before dropping to the bottom hem of my shirt. I gasped when the heat of his fingers dipped beneath the fabric against my bare flesh. With a confident calmness, he lifted it up, inch by inch. I trembled, closing my eyes as his touch caused electric tendrils to drift up and down my body with growing intensity.
When the time came, I lifted my arms up and over my head. I glanced at the darkness outside the window, hoping no one would walk by and see but knowing it was a possibility all the same.
Maybe that made this even more exciting.
He reached to my low back, finding the zipper that held up my skirt and pulling it down with ease. He slid it past my hips, and it dropped down to the floor. He grasped my hand as I stepped out of it, and he folded both pieces of clothing before he put them aside on the table.
In only my bra and panties now, I felt embarrassed and so warm that I might burst into pieces. As if he could read the mental struggle all over my face, he stepped back and just looked at me.
His eyes were dark with ravenous hunger, like there was only one tenuous string holding him back from throwing me onto the table and fucking me so hard that the entirety of South Boston would hear me scream his name.
I lifted my chin and pulled my shoulders back, trying to play at defiance and maybe goad him into exactly that.
He grinned, his dark gaze growing even more perilous.
