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“I’m so sorry, Sir,” I gasped.
He was laughing so hard the vibration went through me.
“It’s okay. Well, it’s not okay, but I understand that this is all very new for you.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I said, breathing hard and wondering when the next spank was coming.
“You have no idea how much I’m enjoying this.”
“I think I do, Sir.” I wiggled myself over where I could feel his cock jutting up against me.
“Fair. But it’s not just that. It’s not just physical.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He stroked the bare skin of my bottom.
“Ready for more?”
“I think so, Sir.”
It turned out that I was not prepared for anything that happened next.
Alastair disciplined like a pro. He went harder than I’d expected, and it was an eye-opener. Gone was the easy, playful technique he’d used when I’d still had my bloomers on.
It hurt. It stung. It became a roar of pain and heat under my skin in a matter of seconds. I was beginning to regret my decision to submit, to be honest, but not enough to use my safeword. Because at the same time that I was suffering and my ass was burning and my skin was screaming, my heart was beating like a drum and my insides were gooey with emotion and lust and the joy of beinghandled.
I squirmed and tried to get away, thinking I had a chance, because Alastair Kenney was a nice guy. I forgot that in this room, Alastair Kenney was something else.
“Uh-uh. Stay still,” he said, without an ounce of sympathy.
Dammit.
“Yes, Sir. I’ll try.” My voice was weak and shaky. The only part of me showing perseverance was my cock as it shoved at Alastair’s thigh like a firebrand.
“You’re doing great,” Alastair purred, the kindness in his voice contrasting with his current treatment.
Yay me?
“Here, give me your hand.”
I moved the arm that wasn’t confined by Alastair’s body and reached behind me.
Alastair wrapped his fingers around my wrist and bent my arm at the elbow so that it lay across my lower back, effectively keeping me in place. He kept me firmly trapped as he soothed my spanked cheeks with the palm of his hand, crooning soothing words. I dared to think it might be over.
But then he started again—slaps so hard I yelped and begged for leniency.
“Say your safeword if you want me to stop. Do you remember what it is?”
“Yes,” I said, sounding so small and scared.
“Ready for more?”
“Oh, come on. It hurts!”
“It’s supposed to. I thought you’d like it.”
I took a breath. “I do. It’s just…I’m scared. I don’t know how much more I can take.”
