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Feeling an answering throb between my legs that I was never, ever going to admit to.
18
Cole
I reached down and took her chin in my hands, wrenching her head up so she looked at me again.
"Did you like that, sub?"
"No, sir."
"Don't lie to me." Moving fast, I sat on the edge of the bed, grabbed her and spun her, putting her over my knee in an instant. She cried out, but from the sound of things, the music was playing again and my guests were entertaining themselves well enough.
Not that it mattered if they heard her protest. Or if they heard what I was about to do.
"Cole, don't!"
"Don't. Call. Me. That!" Each word underscored by three hard slaps on her ass, still covered in spandex running shorts. She cried out and I stripped them from her, fast and easily, letting them hang off her lower legs the way she hated. Something about being forced to keep her pants half on made her feel more naked, more out of control. It was such a humiliating posture.
Then I started spanking her again, letting her feet kick and her head come up, letting her try to get her hands back to stop me, but it only took one hand on the flat of her back to keep her held down and off balance. The other hand slapped her reddening ass over and over until she was wailing, and then until she was crying.
It was an angry cry, not at all a sob of submission, and when I stopped because my hand stung almost as bad as her ass must, I ran my fingers down between her legs and got the answer I had asked myself.
She was soaking wet, slippery, and so, so hot.
The next step was almost too easy. I spanked her again until she was crying for real, then leaned down and said into her ear, "You want this." I ran my hand through her wetness again and shoved my fingers into her face, letting her see and smell her own arousal.
I didn't give her time to process. I pulled her to her feet and pulled off her t-shirt and jog bra, which wasn't easy. I pulled off her panties, all the way off, and I slapped her boobs, felt between her legs again, laughed at her, and I took her by the hand.
And walked her out to join the party.
19
Annie
He handcuffed me to a leash attached to an O ring set into the ceiling. Ordinarily a plant hung there, or at least it had before I left his house. I wondered in a moment of dazed thought why the police hadn't seen it.
My hands were cuffed together at the wrist, the leash wrapped around the cuffs. My breasts jutted out from the pose and I was naked and blushing and spitting and trying to get at him even as he walked away.
Even as he put his arm around Chloe and I found myself distracted enough to wonder what she was doing here, and to hate myself for wondering.
Any other time I'd have expected the advent of a naked woman in handcuffs to be a conversation stopper. That attention would rivet – me, actually. This was no theoretical scenario.
But only one woman broke off from her conversation in the first few minutes and came over to watch me. She walked around me, looking but not touching, then went back to the man she'd been with and knelt at his feet. When he noticed her, he leaned in close, listening to her, his eyes flicking up to run over me.
He nodded, and stepped away from her, crossing over to Cole to ask a question.
To which Cole answered with an affirmative.
No. No, I wasn't back. No, I'd only taken a few minutes for myself in a room that had been mine after having done what I did for Cole's benefit. That didn't mean – they couldn't think – he couldn't think –
Because I wasn't back.
But no one asked me if this was okay when the girl moved to the corner of the living room and pulled a fresh batch of brine-soaked branches from a bucket. They were a combination of thick as my little finger branches and thin, thin, whippy new, green branches.
She was standing behind me. The curtains were closed. There were no mirrors, nothing reflective in the living room. I twisted around and around, trying to see her.
"Hold still," she hissed, and then, calmly, as if we were truly getting acquainted at a dinner party, "I'm Sarah."
