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My hands were tied at the base of my spine. My ass was in the air. I could not see her. I could only hear her breathing, and feel the mattress dip as she shifted, and feel her palm settle on my right cheek, warm, heavy, still.

"You've been very mouthy," she said.

"I have been a delight."

"You called me Captain Miserable to my face."

"That was forever ago! Before we became friends!"

"Fourteen times." Her hand smoothed over my skin in a slow circle.

"You counted?"

"I count all of it." The circle stopped, and she cupped my ass, gripping. "Now, count to ten as I make you pay for it with spanks. Out loud. You lose count, we start over."

My whole body went hot. "Cam."

"You told me you'd thought about this," she said. "First time, I go easy on the first few. You want to stop, you say the word. Still want it?"

She was checking, leaving the door wide open. I could feel her waiting behind me, utterly still, ready to stop if I said so.

"Yes," I said. " Do it."

The first one was lighter than I'd braced for. A sharp pat, a quick bloom of warmth, almost playful.

"Count."

"One," I said, and then, because I'm me, "Is that it? I thought you were supposed to be scary."

The second landed on the other side, harder, hard enough to rock me forward into the mattress. The crack of it echoed off the glass, and the sting bloomed a half second later, hot and sharp, and I yelped. "Two! Okay! Two!" The third, lower, where my ass met my thigh, and I squealed and said, "Three, you absolute sadist," and she paused.

"What was that?"

"Three. Just three."

She hit me again. Harder.

"Four," I whimpered.

By six, I was panting. By seven, my eyes were wet, and the heat had spread across my entire ass and somehow straight between my legs, and I was rocking back toward her hand instead of away. Between each one, she paused, her palm resting on my skin, waiting for my breathing to settle before she went again. By eight, I'd stopped being a smartass because I couldn't remember how. On nine, she paused, and rubbed the burning skin, and asked very quietly, "Still with me?"

"Yes," I whispered. "Yes. Still here."

Ten was the hardest. I cried out and said the number and then just lay there, face pressed into the sheets, breathing, my whole body buzzing.

Her hand came down again, but gently this time, a cool palm stroking over the heat.

"Good girl," she said. "You took that so well."

I made a noise that couldn’t have been language in any country of the world.

Her fingers slid down between my legs from behind, and she made a low sound in her throat at what she found there.

"Look how wet you are."

"Your fault," I mumbled into the sheets.

"Yeah. All mine."