Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Good girl? Had he actually just called me that? Lay aside how my ‘compliance’ with the removal of my clothing having come about not because I meant to obey this dangerous, arrogant billionaire but because my body had succumbed to his bizarre, lewd threat. The dismaying way I had reacted, down there, in the hot, needy, aching place in question, seemed to indicate that the word good shouldn’t be applied.
“I’m going to spank your bottom now,” he said. “Then I’m going to spank your pussy. After that, Leah, I’m going to fuck you.”
I gasped, my eyes closing tightly as if I could shut out the sight of myself in the reflection, bent over, controlled, mastered by the impossibly handsome man who stood over me—as if I might be able to keep the knowledge of the simple plan he had just so casually stated out of my mind. If I didn’t have to think about it… didn’t even have to understand it… if it could just happen…
It started to. It began to just happen: I felt Christian’s left hand come back to my waist and press down more firmly than ever. My eyes flew open, though. My mind—the defiant, independent part of me—refused to allow me to yield. I saw the billionaire’s right hand rising up behind me, and I cried out in protest, beginning to resist his grasp yet again.
His open hand came down on my right bottom cheek, the ringing sound much louder and sharper than the spanks over the seat of the romper had been. At the same time, I flailed my hands awkwardly outward and kicked my legs. The movement of my body probably would have landed me on the floor in an ungainly heap—might even have injured me—if Christian hadn’t simply pinned me down over the back of the couch and spanked me again.
He gave me three very hard slaps on the backs of my thighs. I cried out at each one, the pain startling and fierce, both from the quick succession of the blows and, I realized, from the lack of the padding that my bottom had. I felt my face go hot as I understood why girls like me got spanked on their bare bottoms: that padding ensured that the men who mastered and guided us could punish us properly without harming us. A dominant man like Christian could strip a girl to her underwear, or naked, and then take his time teaching her the old-fashioned lesson she had earned, spanking her disobedient backside until he felt satisfied she had learned to respect his authority.
I managed to get my hands around far enough to try to dislodge Christian’s grasp. His forceful response took only a moment: he grabbed my wrists and expertly twisted my arms behind me yet again. He locked them there, and then he spanked my thighs three more times when I kicked out again.
Those spanks burned like fire, and I gave a full-throated wail of pain at the third one, tears springing from my eyes. I had a moment’s wild thought that of course someone would hear, and call the police, and why hadn’t I thought of just screaming before—and then I remembered where I was, and who owned this building and its security system. My thrill of hope became a new wave of humiliation as I wondered whether the young women in the adjoining apartments, hearing a girl crying out as her sponsor punished her, would fear for their own bottoms, and learn from my example to obey their own keepers.
“I know this is hard, Leah,” I heard Christian say from above me, “so I’m not going to consider it disobedience that you’re having trouble holding still. But your real spanking won’t start until you show me you’re trying to take your punishment like a good girl.”
The wave of gratitude that swelled through my chest made me feel once again like I had started to lose my mind. Christian had set it up perfectly, a logical part of my brain understood: he had told me the insane consequence he intended to impose… the idea that seemed to send an electric shock of mingled terror and arousal through every nerve ending of my body… the image of my virgin pussy, newly waxed for his enjoyment, closed… sealed… to teach me the lesson I couldn’t learn any other, less severe way.
But knowing that Christian had manufactured that fear somehow didn’t stop me from feeling grateful when he relieved it—or maybe, I thought with a little jolt of terror, only postponed it. Even knowing that he would soon, if he carried out his stated intention, spank me there, on the most sensitive part of my anatomy, didn’t stop the warmth I felt toward my would-be billionaire sponsor.
Something about the terrible threat of closing me, down there… about the dismaying way it had called up in me not only fear but also a helpless fascination, an unwelcome need… seemed to have altered my thoughts and feelings very deeply. It hadn’t changed me, really, but it had brought sharply into focus just how wayward and dark an imagination lurked in my head.