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His thumb penetrated me with the slightest pressure. “Do you remember earlier, when I said you looked good enough to eat?”
“Yes, Sir,” I breathed as he pushed my skirt up.
His hands closed over my hips. He rolled my panties down my legs and rubbed his cheek against my ass. “I am going to eat you, Sophie. I’m going to restrain you and take as much of that delicious cunt as I want. Until you’re begging me to stop. Until you’re begging for my cock.”
“Oh yes, Sir.” I stepped out of my panties and widened my stance to allow him better access to my pussy.
He pressed a kiss to the round curve of one cheek before he stood and stepped away from me. “I think some birthday spankings are in order, however.”
“It’s not my birthday, Sir,” I reminded him with a little wiggle. “But I suppose—”
I heard the crack of his bare hand against my ass before I felt it, and I jumped on the balls of my feet.
“Marks or no marks?” He rubbed his palm over my flaming skin.
I caught my bottom lip between my teeth to subdue my moan. “Marks. Please, Sir.”
He sat beside me on the bed and patted his lap. “Come on.”
I straightened and he reached for me, steadying me as I lay over his lap and adjusted so that the brunt of my weight wasn’t on my ribs. Stroking a fingertip down my spine, he said, “Oh. Just one more thing I forgot.”
He reached past my head for something. I squinted through the hair falling in my face to watch him pull on one black leather glove.
“Ohhh,” I whispered, and caught my bottom lip between my teeth.
“What do you think?” he asked, smoothing circles over my ass through my dress.
I thought of the first time we’d had sex at the W and about his gloved hands as he walked through the door to find me fingering myself on the sofa. He’d stood in front of me, taking those gloves off by loosening one finger at a time, while I’d lain there helpless in my desire.
“I think you’re…very creative, Sir,” I managed, when what I really wanted to say was, “Spank me, spank me, spank me, Sir.” If I tried to boss him around, I wouldn’t be getting far tonight.
He pulled the other glove on, the wriggling of his fingers making the leather creak. “That’s a yes, then?”
“Yes, Sir.” Now, I couldn’t help myself. “Please spank me, Sir. I’ve been a very good girl.”
His leather-covered palm connected with my backside, and I gasped a little “ah!” of excitement. The impact tingled all the way down to my toes, and I flexed them deliciously.
This was the point of the night when the pain I would receive was a delightful promise. It wouldn’t be long now and I’d be hating and loving every intense second, but the first few slaps were like gentle foreplay.
Well, maybe not gentle. He jerked my dress up to my waist and really let his hand fly on the next one, hitting me so hard that my body rocked. I would have spilled off his lap if he didn’t have me held captive by a hand at my waist.
I took a deep breath as he stroked the cool leather over the burning handprint he’d no doubt left on my aching ass. He landed another blow in the same spot, and I gritted my teeth.
Inexperienced Doms sometimes hit the same spot over and over out of ignorance. They just didn’t think of the fact that, if they moved their strikes around, playtime could last a lot longer. When Neil did it, though, it was always on purpose. I’d asked him for marks; he was going to make me suffer for each one.
The next slap landed across the super painful zone where my buttock and my thigh met in a crease. I hadn’t been expecting it—I knew better than to try to guess where he’d strike next—and I yelped. One of the benefits of having a huge house is that you don’t have to worry about noise from other rooms. The way this place was insulated, every room was practically a recording studio. Still, I made a conscious effort to be silent on the next hard smacks.
“You’re tense,” Neil growled in admonishment. The glove scraped a searing kiss across my burning skin before he struck me again. “And distracted.” The next one was harder. “And you’re letting trivial concerns intrude.” Two smacks, so hard I couldn’t help the cry I made.
“Up,” he commanded, helping me to my feet. He stood and steadied me with a hand that lingered at my waist as he moved past. “Wait here.”
Without the warmth of him pressed to me, I noticed how cool the room was. The air held enough chill that my raw ass definitely felt it, and I shivered.
Neil went to his side of the bed and picked up the remote control to turn on the built-in sound system. Neil had an entire playlist devoted to our scenes. He preferred music with a dark, slinky beat. When Gotye’s “Hearts a Mess” filled the air, my cunt clenched; we’d fucked to the song so many times before, it was like a Pavlovian response.
Music could do for submission what it does for studying. I instantly focused, even the movement of the air alerting me to his presence behind me. When he came back to the bed and sat, I sank gratefully into my former position.
The distraction worked. I slipped so easily into my submissive state of mind that I was content to lay there and take slap after stinging slap. Some blows were hard, driving the pain deep into the muscle. Others were almost gentle, and delayed so long that the pain was in the waiting.
