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“…I’ll give you a reward to offset the pain.”
“Ruler,” I declare before he’s barely finished speaking. The cosier option would mean me leaving this office frustrated and the tension is already too much for me to bear. I need some relief.
“You’re sure?” His hand caresses my arse again, rubbing his thumb over his fading bite mark. “You won’t try to change your mind halfway through?”
The thought the pain might be bad enough for me to do sends my internal temperature skyrocketing, but I shake my head. “No.”
“Okay, then.”
He shifts to stand beside me, touching me lightly on the head, then placing his free hand on my lower back, holding the cool length of the ruler against my backside.
Then he stays in that position while tension rises in my body until I have to clamp my jaw to stop from begging. He stands still until I shift my weight, my pelvic muscles clenching and unclenching.
And he slaps the ruler onto my arse, the sting shocking, immediate.
“Do you want to count them for me?” The hand on my lower back rubs in circles, a gentle massage that fights the pain into submission.
“One,” I recite in a voice that’s barely there.
He slaps me again, this time at a slightly different angle. Where the line crisscrosses over the one previous, the sting intensifies.
“Two.”
Again. This time, the ruler hits against the original spot and the sting becomes a deeper burn, penetrating me with its warmth, turning my legs to jelly, making my clit throb until it aches.
“Three.”
Conner bends over me, bumping the tip of his nose against my ear, his breath sending spirals of pleasure through to my core. “Are you ready to receive your treat?”
I nod, making a low hum that will have to do as an answer because I can’t manage anything more.
His hand moves lower down my back, following the path of my spine until it turns into the cleft of my arse, then farther still, until his thick fingers tease at the lips of my pussy, so wet he slips straight inside, pushing into me until his middle finger is fully enveloped by my cunt, muscles clenching against him to increase the friction, my need increasing even as it’s partly satisfied, wanting, yearning, begging for more.
And he strikes me with the ruler again, this time across the backs of my thighs, the tender skin unprepared for the blow, my mouth barely having time to clamp down on my cry before it can escape.
This time, the sting doesn’t ease. It grows more intense, the temperature-controlled air acting as an accelerant instead of a balm, setting everything alight.
“What number was that, sweetheart? I can’t hear you.”
“Four,” I choke out, my voice shaking, tears forming in my eyes.
Then his finger moves again, thrusting into me. Conner alters position, turning his hand while he’s embedded in me, moving behind me until I think he’s about to shove something far larger inside me, a development I’d welcome because this is all nice, it’s good, but it isn’t enough to counter the heat of the injury, not enough to send me over that edge.
“One left.” His voice is calm compared to the chaotic motion of his fingers. He stretches me with a second, then a third.
My eyes are closed to hold back the tears of pain when a new sensation comes careening out of the darkness.
Conner presses the ruler against my clit, hard, harder, then easing the force until it throbs, increasing it again.
“Are you ready for your last stroke?”
A mix of terror and arousal courses through my nervous system, wreaking havoc. My clit reacts to the new sensations with joy, apparently unaware it’s in grave danger.
“No,” I gasp when my panicked breathing will let me.
“Oh, did you change your mind?”
All I can manage in response is a hum.
