Page 39 of Only For Him

“That is my good little pet. Unravel for me.”

Her shoulders heave as she attempts to calm herself.

“I’ll pick your punishment for you.” I move each hand where she can grip to keep her steady. “Don’t move your hands off the edge of the desk.”

Instantly I know exactly what instrument I’ll use. The collection I curated for her can wait. The top drawer opens easily and a wooden ruler is lifted.

This will leave marks, welts perhaps.

“Every time you sit, you will think of how you chose to move from your kneel,” I tell her before shutting the drawer and coming to position beside her.

I nearly put it back, but then I remember the “fuck you” and name-calling. I bring it down against her ass in a swift strike.

Her lips part, her upper body comes up, and she cries out in both shock and pain.

Her hands, though, they stay right where they should.

With the ruler hot in my right hand, my left splays against her shoulder blades, urging her back down.

Tears brim and then leak easily down her reddened face.

“You will keep count,” I command.

“One,” she whispers and then pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, taking the tears with it.

I’m quick to land the second an inch from the first, leaving a bright red stripe across her plush ass. Her back arches, and she holds back a cry. “Two.”

I lower the next punishing blow to her upper thighs.

“Three,” she utters, her knuckles turning white as she grips the edge.

Rubbing a soothing circle against the red marks makes her wince but when I squeeze, her mouth parts with a moan. She writhes for me.

That’s what you do when you’re in pain. You take hold of the wounds and turn them into sinful pleasure.

With that thought in mind, the next lashing lands between the first two. Spreading the marks, I take care not to strike the same place twice.

Another one lands and another. I move to stand behind her, fisting the ruler and lean over her draped form. When I press against her, only the fabric of my pants separating her from me, she protests with the most beautiful sound. Kissing down her neck, I grind myself against her and it morphs like it should, twisting that pain into the only thing I ever want her to feel.

“Just imagine how this is going to feel …” I whisper down the curve of her neck before nipping her earlobe. Again she protests, pulling away as the sensations smother her. Grabbing her chin, I force her to look back at me to finish, “… when I fuck you like this and every thrust bringsthiswith it.”

My pulse races as I release her, those dark eyes swirling with every emotion imaginable. Her chest rises and falls just as mine does.

“Please stop,” she begs just as my arm is raised, to color the other thigh with a stripe.

“You have three more, Braelynn.” I pause, offering her mercy. I keep forgetting this is new to her. She said she wanted this, but does she even know what this relationship entails? “Or do you want to apologize?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay still.”

“For calling me a psychopath.” The pain I felt leaks into the correction and I hate it. I hate all of this.

“You wouldn’t let me leave,” she says, turning slightly to face me. Whatever’s written on my face, she sees it and her answering expression is one of sorrow.

“You didn’t use your safe word. You never stopped it when you could have. You didn’t even fucking try,” I mutter with the disappointment evident.

She blinks, as if coming back to me from wherever the fuck she went. As if realizing the extent of what’s occurred. “I’m sorry—”

“I would never call you a name to hurt you. I would never doanythingto hurt you. Not real pain.”

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