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“When was the last time you were whipped with a belt?”
“It’s been…a while. Usually we just—” She sucked in breath as he landed another strike. “—uh, use impact play implements.”
“No improvised punishments.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. “Three more.”
Slap.
Slap.
Slap.
The final blows fell in quick sensation, landing with a popping, stinging intensity. They weren’t really that hard, which was appropriate since she wasn’t warmed up, but they weren’t just for show either. She could feel the spots where the belt had landed, though she doubted the pink marks would last more than a few minutes.
He’d spanked her, hurt her in a small but important way.
She welcomed the pain. Hopefully it would cement in her mind that Daniel was a Dom, and her play partner. That their chemistry didn’t matter. That it was already too late, no matter how much she might like him, because he knew she was a submissive.
His belt buckle clinked as he tossed it down, as casually careless with it as he had been with his coat.
Then he was gripping her shoulders, helping her straighten up. At some point during the spanking her eyes had drifted closed. By the time she blinked them open, he was gone, circling around behind her.
“May I touch your ass?”
“You’re asking permission? You didn’t ask before you whipped off that belt.” She was kneeling on the chair, back straight, hands braced on the back.
“No, but I knew from your checklist that impact play is important to you, and punishment is, well, it’s standard practice. But impact play doesn’t automatically mean intimate touching. Our checklist items mean I will be touching your breasts, but there is no need for me to touch your ass with my hands if you would rather I not.”
“Anyone not in the lifestyle would find that statement, and your question in general, ludicrous.”
“Poor vanilla bastards,” Daniel said fervently.
She giggled—ugh, giggled—then cleared her throat and said, “Yes, you may touch me, Sir.”
His fingers were cool as they danced over her skin. Autumn sucked in a breath and her glutes clenched. He palmed her ass, one cheek in each hand, then leaned in close. Close enough she could feel his body heat on her back, and feel his breath moving her hair when he exhaled.
He gave her ass a little squeeze and she pushed her hips back, pressing her butt into his hands.
He squeezed again, fingers digging into her in a way that was anything but casual. She braced the heels of her hands on the back of the chair and pushed back far enough that her ass touched his body. She ground against him. His cock was hard; she could feel it through his pants, and that just turned her on more.
She wanted him to undo his pants, slide his cock deep into her pussy, and take her. She wanted his cock in her while he bit her neck and pinched her nipples. Wanted him to fuck her so hard and so good that all she could do was hold on to the chair, brace herself against the onslaught of pleasure his fucking would bring.
Daniel’s hands slid to her ribs and he jerked her up, her bare back against his clothed chest. He ground his cock against her ass, chin rubbing against her hair as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“What a good little slutty submissive you are. I bet you’ll do anything if I promise to fuck you. If you’re obedient I might be willing to let you have my cock tomorrow, but we’ll have to negotiate it. So keep being a submissive slut, and—”
The words were like a bucket of ice water to the face. Shocking. Cold.
Painful.
Every muscle in her body went taut and tears tightened her throat.
Slut.
Submissive slut.
Good girl.
Words she hated. Words that made her feel stupid. Words that made her hate herself. And hate the person who said them.
