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“Yes, sir.”
He smacks the paddle right at the spot where my ass meets my thigh. Once on the right side, then on the left. The wonderful stinging warmth spreads.
“Thank you for telling me the truth, babygirl.”
Babygirl?
Where did that come from and why does hearing him say the pet name in that deep, rumbling voice of his make another pool of arousal rush over his fingers?
He gives a dark chuckle, the sound vibrating against my side. He feels it. I’m going to die of shame right here, over his lap. R.I.P. Kylie Barone, who died with a kink club owner’s fingers inside of her.
“You like that?” he croons “You like being called babygirl?”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
“Oh, naughty girl. I thought we agreed you were going to start telling me the truth.” The paddle comes down harder this time, the pain lingering longer before the pleasurable heat spreads.
Defeated, I hiss between clenched teeth, “Yes. I liked it, okay?”
“Good girl, babygirl. That’s what I like to hear. The truth.” He taps the paddle against my ass, moving his fingers in and out of my sex. “I get the feeling you don’t like to lie. So don’t.”
“Um… okay…” I try to keep my sex from clenching around his moving fingers but I can’t, my body demands more from him. I feel weak. Confused. Needy. “I won’t.”
“You promise that you won’t lie to me again. And then,”—he brings the paddle down hard against my ass, once, twice, a third time, while simultaneously thrusting those fingers deep inside me—“I’ll let you come.”
“Oh my God… please.” He’s going to take care of me, finally putting an end to this aching need inside me. “Deal. Sir.”
“Good girl. That’s what I like to hear. Now, kneel on the bench a little and lift your hips up off my lap.”
I obey, lifting my hips from him, my bare bottom sticking up in the air in the most shameful way, my elbows digging into the padding of the bench. The unzipped fabric of my pantsuit dangles down over my body.
“Now, reach down your belly with one hand.”
One shaky palm presses into the leather, balancing my weight as I nervously reach the other hand down to my stomach. It hovers by my waist while I await further instructions.
“And slip your fingers between your legs.”
I freeze. “What?”
The tone of his voice is pure, sensual evil. “I said I would let you come. Not that I was going to do all the work. You’re going to have to help.”
I’ve lived a sheltered life. Work, home, library on the weekends. Sure, I’ve fumbled around under my quilt some, but… I can’t… touch myself, especially not here, not in front of him.
I collapse against his lap, my legs falling down behind me. I rest my cheek on the back of my hand, letting out shaky words. “I—I can’t.”
His tone softens into almost too-sweet baby talk as he rubs circles over my lower back. “Don’t you want to come, babygirl?” he croons.
“I can’t,” I whisper. “It’s too much.” I want to whimper, to cry, to beg. But I can’t do what he asks.
“Have it your way.”
I sigh, knowing I’ll never get to that heavenly place I’ve only tasted the edges of. But now… what’s this? His fingers are fighting their way back between my thighs. He finds my clit, circling the tender, aching bud.
Sweet relief! Stars explode behind my eyelids. “Oh my…” It feels so good, a heady rush washes over my mind, tendrils of pleasure easing their way through me. Release. It’s coming. He’s going to give it to me after all!
And then, he stops. He pulls his hand away from me. He pats my ass. “Let’s get you dressed and get you home. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow. First day on the job.”
My eyes snap open, my jaw dropping to protest. “But…”
