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At first, I tried to take it gracefully, thinking maybe if I did that, he would grant me mercy, but soon enough, it was too much, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I cried out when he spanked the back of my thigh.
How long could this go on for?
I sniffled as a particularly hard strike to the lower curve of my ass made my eyes water. Was he going to make me cry? Wait—was that his goal?
“Please, sir,” I whispered. I figured he would like the word ‘sir’. He was definitely being very authoritative. “I’m sorry!”
“Not yet, you aren’t, naughty girl,” he scolded, and I keened as his hand somehow got firmer than ever. Each smack rattled me to the core, and a fresh wave of panic washed over me.
I didn’t know how much longer the spanking lasted. It could have been seconds, minutes, or even an hour. All I knew was that it hurt, and I was one very sorry girl by the time it was finally over.
“Now, little thief, are you going to make the mistake of stealing from me again?” he asked, his tone expectant, and I was already shaking my head before he finished talking.
“No, sir,” I replied as quickly as I could. My ass was on fire. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to sit for the rest of the day, and my face flushed just thinking about it.
“Good,” he said softly.
I made a move to press up against the desk, but his hand remained solidly against the middle of my back.
“Can I get up now?” I managed, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he used his foot to kick my legs wide apart, fully exposing my pussy. My face heated to molten levels, and I couldn’t help but gasp in surprise.
“Your spanking is over, bad girl, but your punishment isn’t,” he drawled, and my pussy clenched hard.
“Sir,” I whispered, but his fingers flitted along the length of my inner thighs, sliding easily along the copious wetness between them.
“You’re dripping with desire, little thief. I think I’m going to have to deal with this naughty little pussy too,” he rumbled, and my clit pulsed to life almost as though his voice was a conduit straight to it.
His fingers slid closer and closer to my pussy, teasing me gently with a tender touch I hadn’t known him to be capable of until that very moment. I wanted to fight back. I wanted to tell him to stop. I wanted to tell him all the things a twenty-first century woman should if a man had just spanked her bare bottom and was now about to touch her pussy, but I didn’t do any of those things.
Instead, my body just answered for me by arching into his touch, almost like I wanted it.
Truthfully, I didn’t know what I wanted.
Right now, I felt more alive than I’d ever felt in my life. Every nerve in my core was thrumming with sensation. Even though my mind and my body were at odds, a part of me wanted this more than anything.
I arched my back and his fingertips brushed against my wet slit for the very first time. My breath stuttered as raw pleasure coursed through me, far more powerful than I’d ever known.
Sure, I’d masturbated before, but it hadn’t felt anything like this. Had I even known what I was doing? Apparently not, because nothing I’d ever felt made me feel crazy like this.
Nothing until Murtagh.
His fingers had already centered over my clit. I didn’t need to tell him where it was. He already knew.
Slowly, the pads of his fingers slid over my sensitive bundle of nerves, awakening every inch of my body with lightning bolts of sensation. My legs trembled and my thighs squeezed together as far as they could, which wasn’t much. His foot was still there to keep them wide apart.
His knowledgeable touch played me like a fiddle, building my desire in ebbs and flows, up and down until my eyes were nearly rolling back in my head. I struggled to draw in every heated breath, and just as I was about to tumble over the edge into a vat of white-hot bliss, he pulled his hand away and a piercing bolt of denial raced through me.
With a sharp gasp, I arched my hips, trying to follow the path of his hand, but he held it just out of reach.
“Such a needy girl,” he whispered, and my heart hammered in my chest like a goddamn drum.
“Please, don’t…”
I wanted to tell him not to stop. I wanted to tell him to touch me again, but I stopped mid-sentence because his hand came back and my whole world faltered.
The pads of his fingers were the most heavenly thing I’d ever felt. They were warm and rough, and they knew exactly how to play my body until I was on the edge of orgasm, only for him to pull away again.
“Noooo…” I breathed, my hips arching as though I could follow him. He edged me again, and my entire body felt like it was on the precipice. Unreleased sensation tingled in the tips of my fingers and the ends of my toes, so much so that I practically felt like I could levitate right off the desk.
