Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 51507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
The odd thing was, I wasn’t appalled; in fact, quite the opposite. Seeing the marks of my spanking made me smile. I actually liked seeing the leftover signs of his discipline. Was I losing my mind?
I sat down gingerly on the side of my bed, climbing into my loosest set of pajamas and snuggling under the covers, even though it was only about six-thirty in the evening. I was almost numb—except in some strategic areas. I was exhausted... yet I was humming with what had happened to me within the past several hours.
It was a memory that was literally seared into me—brain and bottom. How his legs felt beneath me, crushing my too ample for my figure breasts, the unexpected part of him drilling into my stomach at the same time I could both feel and hear each swat, distinctly, as it landed. He didn’t attack me with a barrage of small smacks. They were all horridly individual and aimed at maximum impact, as my poor sore flesh would certainly attest.
But it had been Anthony’s lap that I was over. He was the one who had been staring down at my bare ass cheeks, touching them if somewhat impartially, peering down to instantaneously divine where the next strike should land.
I could barely wrap my mind around what had happened. I should have stayed at home, I thought belatedly, but then jettisoned the thought. He would have come after me in a shot, I knew. There was no hesitation in that man. If what he wanted didn’t come to him, he’d go and get it, no doubt about it.
And there was obviously no couth in him, either, since he seemed to be making a move on his best friend’s daughter. But I wasn’t exactly fighting it either. He had seen everything from the waist down! And no doubt, his lap was wet from my signs of arousal.
Why? How?
What was it about this man, the spanking, everything? I couldn’t breathe right. I couldn’t think right. Nothing about this was right... and yet, the warmth in my body spoke otherwise.
I fell asleep with visions of the second adult spanking I had dancing in my head, turning it around and around in my mind until sleep took over.
* * *
Anthony
Across town, I sat in my study—the scene of the crime—with a shot of Morus LXIV Gin in front of me. Well, okay, a bottle of the ridiculously priced booze. The shot glass was a mere formality to prevent the complete breakdown of civilization I knew would surely result if I should drink directly from the bottle.
Spanking Raychel was, outwardly, a relatively easy event. I had given her an order and made it plain as day to her that there would be consequences if she didn’t obey me. I didn’t know what the big deal was about a winter coat, but that was neither here nor there. She had disobeyed, and in my world—of which she was an ever-growing part—that meant discipline.
But inwardly, spanking her made me feel two parts guilty for every one part positive. In some ways, I felt like I had definitely overstepped my ‘guardian’ bounds by spanking her, not to mention when I kissed her at her front door. We didn’t have any other intimate physical connection—unless you count the mind-blowing kiss—and yet I had tipped her over and given her a very sound spanking.
On the bare ass. Completely bare from the waist down.
Bared for me to see. Bared for me to touch. Bared for me to fight the sinful thoughts raging through me.
I couldn’t deny that I was becoming attracted to Raychel. The proof was painfully obvious even as my palm had begun to hurt. I could still have split a diamond with my erection.
Although Raychel could have protested a lot more than she did. She acquiesced more quickly than I’d expected, and although she certainly hadn’t appeared to be happy with the turn of events, she hadn’t slapped my face or threatened to call the police on me once I let her up.
Slightly buzzed, my eyes settled where they always did when I was at my desk—on the photo of Dasha and his daughter staring back at me.
Silently, I raised my glass and nodded in salute to him. “I miss you, brother,” I said, speech barely slurred. “Pardon the indiscretion.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if Dasha were standing here, would he be laughing at me? Dasha would never have wanted me to go through any angst on his account. He was too much of a good friend, and had always been loyal to me regardless that he was the Bratva and I wasn’t. He wouldn’t want anything for me but whatever happiness I could carve out of my life. He may not be happy it was his daughter... but at least Dasha would know that Raychel would forever be protected.