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I gave a look I had mastered. A look that told the man I was about to kill to fear me. A look that would have anyone cowering. Even a stubborn woman who didn’t know better or understand the true extent of how much sheshouldfear me.
“Yes,sir,” she spat. I didn’t know what it was about addressing me respectfully that was so hard for her, but she’d answered. For now, that was enough.
“All right,” I said, stepping to the side. “Let each of these remind you that our rules are to be obeyed.”
Lecture over, I swung my arm back and brought the strap down against the very center of her ass. She screeched, releasing the table, standing, and dancing from foot to foot, her hands furiously rubbing her ass.
“Position,” I said.
“It fucking hurts!”
“Yes, and keep cussing and I’ll start over. Get up again, release the table, rub your ass, and I’ll start over.”
“You’re enjoying this!” she accused.
“I am,” I admitted, running the leather through my hand. “Now, back over and stick your ass out or—”
“You’ll start over,” she snarled, glaring at me but obeying, her knuckles whitening with her death-grip on the table edge. Poor thing, she’d learn that the more she relaxed, the more she submitted to the discipline, the less it would hurt. Until then, well, I had a lesson to teach.
Again and again, the strap rose and fell, each stroke cracking against her skin, each one a fraction of an inch below the previous one. She screeched and shimmied, her feet dancing, her head tossing back and forth, and yet she didn’t attempt to cover her ass or to stand up.
With her promised half-dozen delivered, I said, “For the extra stroke, I want you up on your tiptoes, ass pushed high.”
It took a moment, but she obeyed, the muscles in her thighs trembling, her no-longer-pale ass pointing directly to the ceiling. Six red lines decorated her flesh, but that wasn’t where I’d be placing the last. Reaching out, I ran my fingertip along the area where her ass merged with her thighs, the skin now stretched taut with her position. I could feel her quiver beneath my touch, could hear her gasp, but what had my gaze riveted to her form was the glistening I could see between her thighs. Drops of her arousal clung to the soft curls covering her mound. I had no doubt she’d felt the punishment. I’d heard her cries and pleas for me to stop, but while Goldie’s mind was saying one thing, her body was definitely saying another.
Pressing my palm to the small of her back, I lifted my arm. The whoosh of the strap sounded a moment before the crack of leather against her sensitive sit spot split the air.
“Oh God!” she screamed, attempting to rise, but my hand kept her in place. Not because she had another stroke coming, but because the cry had been accompanied by another rush of wetness… wetness I wanted to explore.
“Relax, your strapping is done,” I said.
And that should have been it, would have been except something inside me refused to call the punishment done. Not when all I had to do was slide my finger down to have it drenched in her wetness, her groan one of pain and something else. She was soaking wet, my fingers slid with ease up and down the seam of her sex. I pushed a finger into her pussy only to have her muscles instantly tighten around the intruder, her moan one of raw need as I began to stroke in and out of her. God she was tight. Tight, hot, and soft as velvet.
My balls threatened to burst as I continued to explore the part of her that was made for the very cock throbbing behind the zipper of my jeans. Again and again, I slid first one and then two fingers in and out of her.
“Oh God, please… please,” she said, the words the same I’d heard just moments earlier and yet their meaning so very different. These weren’t pleas to stop… no, these were words begging for release. I slid my fingers out of her pussy to circle her clit, the bud swollen and pulsing with every beat of her heart.
“Yes!” she screamed, her body arching at the contact.
“No,” I countered, giving the sensitive spot a single flick before sliding two fingers deep inside her again. My entire hand was soaked, making my thumb slick when I moved it into position, pressing at the pucker of her asshole.
“Girls who put themselves into danger, don’t get to come. Do you know what they get, Goldie?”
“Please… oh, please, Jay, let me come!” she begged, her ass pushing back as she attempted to grind herself against my hand.
“You’re not listening,” I said, bending over her body. Moving to speak close to her ear, I continued to both finger fuck her pussy and stroke the small indentation of her anus. “Girls who don’t obey, get reminded rules are put into place for a reason. And do you know how they are reminded, Goldie?” Her sounds were primal, so fucking needy I had to fight for control, fight not to pull my cock out of my jeans and impale her. Instead, I continued the lesson. “They get their asses punished.”
With the last word, my thumb breached her resistance, her shriek filled the air and, holy hell, despite my words, she came, her body convulsing, her sex contracting again and again around the fingers I continued to fuck her with.
Her back bowed, her head canted back, and her keen was unlike any sound I’d ever heard before. It was the last straw. There was not a man on God’s green earth who could have stopped.
13
Jay
“Reach back and pull your cheeks apart,” I demanded, pulling my thumb free as I unzipped my jeans, pulling my aching cock from its confinement. “Time for your anal discipline.”
“Wh… what?Anal discipline!” Her words came out raspy, as if I was choking her—which could come soon.
