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I go to lift myself from the ground, but he stops me.
“Crawl to me,” he demands.
I rear back on my heels, the world swirling with my shock. “I…I can’t.”
“Did you purposely set out to make me jealous?”
I should deny it, but my head’s fuzzy, and I can’t help but do as he wants. “Yes.”
“Do you think that deserves punishment?”
My panties are soaked through. “Yes.”
“Then crawl to me. Show me how good you can be.”
Every ounce of feminism evaporates from my mind. I’ll be a feminist tomorrow. I crawl on my hands and knees as he watches me with pitch-black eyes, the silver completely taken over by his pupils. His hands clench the sofa so hard his knuckles are white, and a muscle ticks in his jaw. Power trickles down my spine, knowing that I’m the one doing this to him. That even though he’s giving the commands, I’m the one making the decisions.
I close the distance between us with more confidence and kneel between his spread legs, eyes wide as I look up at him. The air is thick around us with anticipation.
He pats his thigh. “On your stomach, wife.”
My body trembles as I lift up and lay myself over him, the hard muscle digging into my stomach.
He flips my skirt over my back, revealing my pink lace panties. A low groan escapes his throat, and he rips them off, balling them in his fist. “You’re going to pay for wearing these for him.”
He brings the fabric up to my closed mouth, and I refuse to open. His free hand smacks hard against my exposed ass, and I gasp with the shock.
He fills my mouth with my panties that taste like me, and he closes my jaw when I go to spit them out.
“Keep them in, or you’ll just prolong this.”
There’s a frustrated anger wrapped around my lust that has every nerve standing on its end. I wiggle on his lap. He pins me down with one arm as his other hand trails over my ass, already sore. Tension builds in my stomach, a desperation for more burning through my anger. I can’t stop myself from rocking against him, searching for the friction I desperately need.
His fingers dig into my hip. “Beg for it, wife.”
I glare at him and spread my mouth wider, revealing the panties he’d stuffed it with. How am I supposed to beg?
He chuckles low, but it’s the slow motion of his fingers up my thighs that has me moaning for more.
“Please.” My words are muffled from the fabric in my mouth, and he takes them out.
“Please, what?”
I let out a frustrated whimper. “Spank me.”
He pulls my legs further apart, leaving me completely exposed. Vulnerable, I attempt to close them, but he stops me, and I stay perfectly still.
A low chuckle rolls from him. “That’s my good girl.” It’s punctuated by the sharp sting of his palm. My entire body comes alive, the pain quickly morphing into pleasure, causing my clit to throb. He spanks me again, and I moan.
His fingers dig into my hair, tilting my head back so he can look into my eyes. “You like that, don’t you, wife? You like to be punished.”
I can’t speak. I’m breathing so hard, but he must read the answer in my eyes because he spanks me again, this time landing right over my core. My senses shatter with the new sensation, and I struggle to inhale before he does it again. My clit pulses with the tempo of my heart that he sets with each touch. I’m completely lost to him, brain short-firing through the fog. He shifts lower and lands his slap directly against my clit.
My orgasm slams into me, my entire body quaking as it rushes through my limbs. Damon doesn’t stop, instead alternating between my clit and spanking me hard, building a pressure inside me I’ve never felt before. He guides me higher and higher until I explode, my cum gushing out of me. Holy shit. What was that?
“Fuck yes,” he hisses. “Such a good girl. So perfect for me, wife.”
I collapse against him, too exhausted to be embarrassed, trying to concentrate on my breathing before I pass out. He doesn’t give me time to come down, instead flipping me stomach down on the sofa. He straddles my ass, pinning me down, and tears the seam of my dress up the side.
