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“No,” he confirms. “Now hold still. I’m going to spank you good and hard, and then we’re going to return to our seats and you are going to be on your best behaviour.” He says it like it’s totally a happening thing and I can’t help but snort. I seem to be snorting a lot with him. Much of what he says is preposterous.
“What makes you think I haven’t already been on my best behaviour?” I question sullenly.
“Your behaviour has been appalling. If that’s the best you can do, we’re going to have problems. Big problems. If you want to be able to sit at all for the rest of this flight, you might want to amend your response.”
I’m getting used to the tiny space and not feeling so claustrophobic anymore, but I have no intention of making this easy. Not for him, and not even for me. I know that this spanking is going to happen anyway, no matter what I do, but I’m not going down without a fight. I wouldn’t be Jade Owens if I did. I take advantage of his loosened grip on me to spin around and face him.
“I hate you!” I watch his eyes carefully for a reaction, but there isn’t one. Mr. Asshole doesn’t flinch. His expression doesn’t change even the tiniest bit.
“I’m not too fond of you myself, to be honest,” he tells me conversationally, as though I’ve just asked him about the weather or something equally mundane. “And let’s face it—you haven’t given me much to like. All I’ve seen so far is a spoiledlittle brat having a temper tantrum because she can’t get her own way. It’s really not all that attractive.”
My heart sinks at his words. Really? He doesn’t like me? He’s driving me crazy with lust but he doesn’t like me? I don’t know why, but that hurts.
He takes my chin in his hand, holding my face still, tilting my head up so I can’t avoid his steady stare. “Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately for you, I know just how to deal with brats.”
The second he lets go of my chin, I turn away from him, look longingly at the door, and back myself up against the wall as close as I can get.
“Hands on the wall, ass out,” he demands, taking hold of me again and manhandling me back into position. He’s holding me so tightly it almost hurts, and I know there’s no way I’m going to get away, no matter how much I try.
“It’s not like I have a choice,” I grumble. “Let it be known that I’m doing this under duress.”
“You seem to do everything under duress, little girl. The only thing you seem to embrace enthusiastically is drinking and bratting. That’s what I aim to change. Now bend over.”
He presses his palm between my shoulder blades again, expertly holding me in the exact position he wants me.
Smack!
His big hand lands on my left butt cheek, so hard that it takes all my self-control not to cry out. I grit my teeth and bear my punishment in silence as he brands first my right butt cheek and then my left, over and over again. The spanks are loud inthe small room, bouncing off the walls and echoing in my ears. Hopefully the rumble of the engines is loud enough to drown it out, but part of me suspects there’s no way the entire rear end of the plane can’t hear this, even if I do manage to keep quiet.
I wiggle and squirm side to side in an attempt to avoid Mr. Asshole’s relentlessly punishing palm, but my efforts are futile. There’s simply not room for me to move enough to get out of the way completely and instead of the spanking being concentrated to the middle part of my ass, some of the blows are landing on my hips. I rise up on my toes trying to escape the sting, but the next whack lands on the top of my thigh and it’s all I can do not to yell. Somehow, the burn is worse on my thigh than it is on my butt and I rest my forehead against the wall, let my body go limp, and whimper miserably.
“Please stop,” I beg desperately. “It hurts so much. I’m sorry, okay? Please stop.” The fiery burn from this spanking is way more intense than when he bent me over the desk in front of Richard earlier today. Maybe it’s because my bottom was already tender thanks to his ministrations before, or maybe it’s because he’s spanking me so ferociously now. Whatever the reason, it feels like my butt is ready to burst into flames at any second. I’m not sure how much more I can take.
“I see we’re finally starting to get somewhere,” he says semi-proudly, like he’s pleased with himself that he’s brought me right to the very edge of tears. “That’s good, because my hand is starting to get sore. Just a few more then, and we’ll be done. Hold still.”
Despite keeping my eyes squeezed tightly shut, a few tears escape, rolling silently down my cheeks. The relief of knowing that this is nearly over is immense, but the fact that it isn’t over yet is terrifying. I’d hoped, with the lack of space in this tinyexcuse for a bathroom, Jaxon wouldn’t be able to get much of a swing or put much power behind his swats, but that’s clearly not the case. The small room hasn’t hindered my punishment at all.
“No, please!” I whimper, but he doesn’t heed my plea. Instead, his flattened palm lands six times in quick succession, connecting with so much force I’m pretty sure his fingers are leaving welts across my sit spots that are going to make the rest of this flight extremely uncomfortable.
“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!” I sob into my sleeve, stamping my feet, desperate for this to be over. “I’m sorry! Please stop!”
Relaxing his grip on my back just slightly, he leans forward and growls directly into my ear.
“Six more, little girl. Count them.”
“No, please.”
“Yes.” His voice is firm, and he increases the pressure on my back again.
His deep, rumbly voice isn’t so sexy anymore. Not now that I’m crying and miserable. I’m not even angry anymore; I’m too upset to be mad. Instead, I feel completely broken. Just twenty-four hours ago, I was putting on my makeup, getting all dressed up to go out with my friends. My life was one big party, with alcohol, ‘mood enhancers,’ friends, and money on tap. Everything I wanted was at my fingertips. And now look at me! Not only am I on the first-ever commercial flight of my life, trapped in the cramped bathroom with the very man who is about to blister my ass some more, I’m also out of alcohol, out of ‘mood enhancers,’ out of money, and away from my friends. I’ve even been reduced to begging for mercy. My life really has nothing going for it right now.
“Get it over with then,” I mutter bitterly. “It’s not like my life can get any worse.”
Behind me, Jaxon stiffens and a little part of me hopes that he’s changed his mind. Maybe he’ll decide I’ve been punished enough, and he’ll let us return to our seats. It’s not like I’m going to be able to sit comfortably now anyway; does he really need to keep going?
“Don’t be a drama queen,” he scoffs. “It’s not that bad.”
Not that bad? How can being spanked in an aircraft bathroom benot that bad?
