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“Please,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “Please, do it. Punish me.”
He doesn’t hesitate, leaving me. I watch out of the corner of my eye as he moves around the room. He goes to the wall, scans, and then chooses the implement of his wishes. With a swift motion, he unhooks a sexy-looking little black paddle from its place on the wall.
One that looks just like the paddle I found online when I was researching the family.
A lump forms in my throat at the sight of the toy. Am I ready for this? I’ve never, ever crossed over into the world of dominance and submission. Ready or not, I’ve already made my decision when I allowed him to lead me into this room, my hand in his.
I close my eyes as he moves behind me and brings down the leather paddle with a crack against my bare thighs. The pain is sharp, bright, new, and stunning but it’s tempered by the rush of endorphins that flood my system. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, my body arching as he continues to punish me.
Each strike of the paddle leaves a fiery trail on my skin, the pain dancing over my bare flesh. Will there be a mark, a visible reminder of his dominance over me? The idea sends a thrill through me.
But why?
Am I crazy for being here? Doing things like this—having them done to me—I’d never even imagined doing something like this. This stranger, now my boss, demanding I come home with him, enter his secret pleasure room…
The toy strikes again, and I cry out, loving the pain, the sensation of punishment across my ass. I realize it’s not just the physical sensation that I crave, it’s the sense of surrender, of being truly vulnerable and powerless in his hands.
It’s a feeling that I’ve never experienced before, and yet it’s become my desperation.
I don’t know how much more I can handle. The pain is overwhelming, blooming over my ass. Beads of sweat start to trickle down my back, each one a testament to the intensity of our encounter.
And yet, even as the pain intensifies, I find myself craving more.
He continues the punishment, each spank sending another wave of desire coursing through me. My body trembles, wanting more. Wanting to be taken to the edge and pushed over it. One more strike and I find my limit.
“I can’t take anymore,” I plead, hanging limp over the back of the chair.
He stops suddenly, the sound of the paddle hitting the floor. I wait with bated breath for what comes next, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum.
And then, slowly, I feel his hands gripping my waist, pulling me upward until I’m standing tall and facing him. His eyes are dark and intense, mirroring the desire that he’s awoken within me. He reaches up and cups my face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking my cheeks.
“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice low and husky. “Are you ready to let go?”
I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I know what he’s asking, and I want to say yes, but fear and uncertainty threaten to steal my voice. I look into his eyes, searching for the reassurance that I so desperately need.
And then I hear it, the faintest whisper of “yes” from the depths of my soul. I nod, a small, tentative motion that speaks volumes. He pulls me toward him, his lips meeting mine in a searing kiss. The intensity of the moment is palpable, the sexual tension between us surging into the kiss.
His hands run down my back, his fingers tracing the curve of my spine and sending shivers of anticipation through me. I can feel the heat of his body pressing against mine, our hearts beating in sync. The kiss deepens, our tongues mingling in a passionate dance that leaves me wanting more.
His fingers find that same zipper once more, this same skirt that I wore in his office yesterday when he wanted to take it off to spank me over my panties. Shivers trip down my spine as he slowly lowers the zipper and this time there’s no interruption as?—
“Damn. It’s stuck,” he says.
I feel him tug on the zipper once more. I’m cursing its stubbornness. “Please,” I beg. “Do something.”
His eyes glide around the room, searching for what, I have no idea. Each moment makes my heart race with anticipation. My pussy clenches, wanting more. Finally, his eyes land on a set of drawers. “Wait here.”
I stand in the middle of the naughty room, watching him as he searches through a wide wooden drawer. I can’t see the contents from here, but a pool of arousal gathers when I hear him moan, “Perfect.”
He turns to me with a light in his gaze. “I have exactly what you need.” In his hand, he holds a curved toy, hot pink and smooth.
“I’m so happy you’re a man who’s prepared.” It’s got to be some vibrator that he’s holding. My pussy throbs, demanding he make good use of the toy.
Immediately.
He grins, sensing the desperation that simmers in my veins. “Well then,” he says, extending the vibrator toward me. “Let’s take care of you, beautiful girl.” He turns it on, and a soft hum fills the room. “Have you ever used a vibrator?”
God, please don’t make me answer that out loud.
