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“Please! Please, please, please,” I tried.
“Let’s talk about why you’re getting your bare little ass spanked bright red, malyshka.”
“I understand already! Please, no more,” I whimpered.
He didn’t listen.
“Not only did you run away from the man trying to protect you, but you fought me every step of the way. You ran off into the night all alone into a dangerous part of the city dressed in clothes that would make any man out on the streets take notice. You need to understand that your reckless decisions have consequences and now that I’m the one taking care of you, that means this bare ass over my knee getting spanked bright red,” he scolded and with every word, I felt smaller and smaller.
The most terrible part of it all was that it started to make sense.
With Gregor, I’d bitten off more than I could chew. When I’d denied him my body yet again, he’d gotten angry, which only escalated into a fight between the two of us that was inevitably noticed by the rest of the bar. Maxim had been the one to protect me; hell, he’d killed Gregor for me and that would bring dangerous consequences all on its own.
And then, to make matters worse, I’d run off in a city I didn’t know, dressed in a short skirt and tank top, with no plans and no place to stay for the night.
I’d run from the only man trying to protect me. I don’t know why he cared, why he’d been hell bent on trying to keep me safe, but I didn’t question it. Not anymore.
Maxim was right.
I was a naughty girl. I deserved this spanking, and the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.
My arousal spiraled higher, and he spanked me even harder. I cried out. I pleaded for mercy, but it didn’t stop.
A terrible realization hit me then.
This was never going to stop because I wanted it to. It was only going to end when Maxim decided I had been spanked long enough, hard enough, whichever came first, maybe both. I didn’t know.
He kept spanking me, his hand coming down in a steady rhythm that was starting to make my whole bottom burn. I twisted and turned over his lap, trying anything and everything to avoid the punishing slaps that seemed to land all over the place with no rhyme or reason.
The burn quickly blazed into a fiery inferno, spiraling hotter until the only thing I could focus on was the stinging pain. His hand was relentless. It felt like it was imprinting its shape on the surface of my skin, each smack throwing more fuel on the fire and making it burn hotter.
He started to spank the tops of my thighs in rapid succession, and I came to understand something else very quickly.
He was spanking me hard enough that if this went on much longer, I was going to cry.
I didn’t want to cry.
I knew I didn’t have a choice.
Maybe that was his goal.
“I’m so sorry! I’ll never be bad again!” I vowed. Honestly, I would have promised him my left kidney or my firstborn child to make this stop, but he ignored my pleading and just continued punishing me.
The next time his hand came down, I lost the battle and my eyes watered. A soft yelp escaped me, and I clamped my lips shut, but it wasn’t enough. His hand came down again and as hard as I tried to stop it, a sob burst free from me. Then another followed, getting harder and harder, one after the other until tears were dripping down my cheeks in earnest.
It wasn’t until his hand smacked the tender undercurve of my bottom that I really started to cry.
Not just cry.
Bawl.
I had never cried like that before in my life.
Then the spanking finally started coming to an end, or at least I hoped it would. His hand still smacked hard, but the cadence had slowed down, and it eventually stopped when I was lying limp over his knees with my bare ass quivering and clenching from the intense burn.
My clit throbbed so hard that my hips nearly bucked.
I swallowed a sob.
