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Ah, escape. Such a fleeting thing. The exit slipped through her fingers when suddenly she found herself divested of her possessions before the sheet was stripped off her.
Naked again except for her underwear, this time, he pinned her against a wall, his thigh between hers. His cock, oh heaven help her, pressed into her belly.
She couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t enough air in the room. Every time he touched her this way, he let her know inch by inch just how big he was.
“Did no one ever tell you that size doesn’t matter, little kitten? It’s what you do with it that counts.” He pushed his thigh deeper between her legs until he touched her pussy.
Finley cried out in utter humiliation. The fresh drizzle of wetness from her pussy now drenched her panties. A moment longer, and she would have soaked his pants as well.
She tried to squirm away, but in the next heartbeat, he lifted her off the floor, sat on the bed, and soon her body was folded over his hard, muscular thighs with her ass prominently in the air.
“Remember what I said about naughty little girls? Hmm? They get a spanking, remember?”
While her world had been turned upside down and inside out, he spoke to her as if this were such a commonplace event that he was almost bored by it.
“What are you doing? Let me up immediately! You have no right—”
Those large, rough, calloused hands of his slid into the band of her underwear. His hard palm glided over her backside as he dragged the scrap of fabric down to her thighs, exposing her completely for his view.
The first smack of his hand against her flesh didn’t quite register. She had been too stunned by the realization that he had undressed her to process that he had spanked her.
“Did you think I would let you get away without an apology to me? Trying to take a picture of my cock while I was asleep,” he tsked “That’s just rude, little girl.”
“Rude? Rude is pretending you were asleep in the first place,” she shouted. The twirling sensations in her tummy chipped away at her control, making her frantic. She really didn’t need to hear his throaty chuckle again, either, but if she thought that was the worst that could happen, she was wrong.
The second smack hit home. Hard. Then the third and the fourth. The excruciating sting brought tears to her eyes but, more obscenely, wetness to the folds of her pussy. The heat his presence activated inside her broke new boundaries.
She clenched every part of her, desperate to stop the floodgates from erupting and sweeping her into a sea where the waves of pain and pleasure clashed with each other. She took hold of his pants at his calf and clutched it so tightly she wondered if she could rip a piece of the material off.
Lash after lash littered the whole of her bottom. With each strike, Jagger reiterated the promise that she would later be able to see the hot personal brand he had left on her body.
The thought alone of his handprints on her skin released a fresh flood of wetness to her pussy. Her clit, soaking wet and slippery hard, cried out for her to do something to alleviate the tight aching pain nestled there that only touch would placate.
His touch.
Without thinking, Finley pressed her pussy against his thigh and then closed her eyes in soul-wracking embarrassment. It was too much for her. His hands on her. His cock, like a warm boulder against her side, hardened with every extra strike he delivered. Her inexperienced body couldn’t handle it. Her defenses lay in tatters at his feet. A plea lingered at the cusp of her lips. Her mind pushed her to beg shamelessly for something she knew she never wanted, but now seemed to need more than her next breath.
If she said the word, please, it would be over for her. She would never recover from the shame of begging a stranger to touch her.
To fuck her.
Where were all these intense sexual feelings coming from? How had they lain dormant all her adult life only to start gushing out of her from every cell in her body now?
“Sorry.” The word burst from her lips as if it had been excavated from the depths of her soul. “I’m sorry,” she said again, relieved that her need for self-preservation had saved her and stopped her from begging instead.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when Jagger finally released her.
“Good little kitten,” he murmured softly. He stood her up onto her feet and then pulled her panties up.
She closed her eyes as he arranged her lace underwear so that it fit comfortably against her skin.
Immediately her indignation returned when he glanced up at her. She’d left the proof of her arousal on his pants, and he’d seen it. He wanted her to know he’d seen it. That’s not what you think it is, she wanted to say. She would rather lie and say she’d wet herself than admit she’d gotten wet for him.
“I’m not your good little kitten. Don’t call me that,” she said instead and folded her arms over her chest, pouting.
He grinned up at her, then ran his finger over the terrible red bites on the side of her body. Without another word, he got up and retrieved a small yellow container from a drawer. He sat back down and then drew her to him until she stood between his legs.
Gently removing her arm from her chest, he proceeded to coat the welts on the side of her breast with the ointment. It stung, and she winced, but then he started to blow on the sting. Finley bit her lip. Her nipple, which had not softened at all, grew more engorged than ever. Goosebumps rose from her skin.
