by Alta Hensley
My desires scared me. Terrified me.
The tingle in my core that only grew with each second stole my breath. Arching up violently as best I could and generally trying to work myself free, my heart beat so loud, I was sure he could hear it.
And then, as he stood there staring down at my bare behind, he unbuckled his belt, and my efforts at escaping redoubled before his eyes. Not that it did me one bit of good. I was there, and that was where he wanted me to be, and where he was going to keep me until he thought that I had learned my lesson.
“Have you never been punished before me? Never had your ass licked by leather?”
I shook my head. “Never,” I panted. “You can’t do this, you—”
“What’s stopping me, Aria?”
“I’ll be good. I’ll listen,” I replied in a tone sounding very much like pleading.
He chuckled. “No, you won’t. Even after I belt you tonight, I have no doubt I’ll have to do it again and again. You’re stubborn, and that is fine by me. I’ll dance this dance with you gladly.”
As he brought the wide leather strap down across my cringing ass for the first time, and the heavy thwack as well as my resultant bellow of agony I screamed resounded within the small room, he began to speak, ignoring both of the other sounds. “I don’t like to do this, Aria. I would much prefer if you had done as you were told and kept your mouth shut when both Tennessee and I warned you. Instead of yelling and moaning because you’re getting your firm ass belted, we could be downstairs enjoying the cobbler dessert that I know Tennessee made us. But you’re a stubborn woman, and I am a man that sets the rules. No one disobeys me. No one goes against my word. I demand respect and I have different ways than some of making sure it happens.” The belt came crashing down upon my flesh at a rapid speed, and I could barely comprehend his lecture. “I am responsible for you, and I intend to keep you safe until I hand you over to your father. I have expectations and rules that will be followed no matter what. Respect. I demand it. Even if that means that I have to tan your hide every hour on the hour to help you remember that I mean you to do exactly what I say.”
The belt had risen and fallen more times than I could count. How many stripes he gave me was of absolutely no meaning to him. He didn’t seem to be even close to letting up on his wicked discipline.
I was in agony from the time that length first seared my flesh until the last. The belt was wide enough, and my backside was small enough that, even as he marched it up and down my bare butt and the backs of my thighs, every single livid, vivid stripe overlapped with at least one other—sometimes two or three, especially near the end, when it seemed that he had not only increased the strength of the lashes, but also the frequency. It was as if he was trying to drive me towards something. He wasn’t wavering in his resolve and didn’t relent in the least.
Finally, I collapsed onto the bed and was no longer fighting him, or myself, or even the belt itself. Although I would have done anything to have him stop there, he didn’t. Instead, he gave me ten more, delivered very slowly and deliberately, and they were the worst I had yet experienced, each one eliciting a full, howling scream of its own, until on the fifth one, my voice broke and I could barely whisper the depths of my misery. Not that I didn’t give it a good try every time that leather seared my flesh again.
When he was done, he literally threw the belt away from him, opened his bedside table drawer and took something out of it, and got on the bed between my legs, leaving me bound as he lay atop me. For the second time, he didn’t take the time to climb out of his pants, but simply rearranged things to release himself, his rampant erection springing from its confinement and swelling to even more enormous proportions.
I could feel the heat he had created upon my backside as he lay over me. Moving his pants out of the way, donning the condom he had some forethought to grab, he then used his fingers to guide himself to my entrance, finding me wet with arousal. How could my body betray me in such a way?
The pain. The hurt. The humiliation and shame of being whipped by a man’s belt…
It all struck a match inside me that burned for more.
As he very slowly pressed his cock inside me, he reached up beneath me, and beneath my sweater to capture a breast in each hand, locating each nipple and pinching and rolling it as he claimed me to the hilt, seating himself within me fully, all at once, then rocking a bit experimentally, to make sure he was truly surrounded by every bit of me that he could get, and he was. There was nowhere else for him to go but out of me and back in, which was what my body was demanding.
I moaned as he’d joined our bodies together. I couldn’t really tell whether my moans were from pleasure or pain. The two sensations blurred to a point where it didn’t matter. It hurt so good. The pain from the lashing, as well as from the biting sting of his dick spreading me wide, morphed to the most delicious feeling of euphoria.
“Does it hurt?” he asked as he thrust deeper inside of me.
“Yes. But…” I cried out as his balls slapped against my pussy. “I want more of it.”
“Good. Because I like hurting you. I plan to hurt you over and over again. Cry my name, princess. I want to hear you cry my name.”
At first, when the belt had finally stopped its rise and fall, I had barely moved, lying there trying to come to grips with what he’d done to me, trying to wrap my head around how much pain I was in, yet how aroused at the same time. So, when he climbed onto the bed between my legs and began to fondle me, rooting around rudely between my legs as if he had every right, I all but begged for more in delight.
I had clearly lost my mind. Even as I cried out in pain—and Jesus fucking Christ did it hurt—I still wanted more. I never once begged him to stop because I didn’t want him to. I didn’t want him to go easy. I really wanted a true whipping. The feel of submission, surrender, and allowing Matthew to dominate was by far the most powerful and erotic feeling I had ever experienced. And even now, as I recovered from his discipline, my body hungered for more as I was bound and helpless and being fucked, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it but allow every wicked sensation to overcome me.
It felt much, much better than I wanted it to, almost but not quite enough to overpower the way my flesh continued to throb and sear, like a burn did after the fact. The pain continued to mount, even though the punishment was over, probably because of the way his movements against me caused the fabric of his pants to rub over my brutally sensitized flesh.
But still, to my deep shame, it wasn’t enough to override the pure, unadulterated pleasure of his possession. I could feel it not only in my pussy, but also in my breasts and nipples, and my scalp and my toes, which were curling unconsciously until I forced them to straighten out. Every little bit of me felt every excruciating centimeter of him as he sank himself into me. Not quickly, not as if this was something he needed or wanted to get over with, but with humiliating deliberation, as if he was savoring it as much as my body wanted to.
And that was before he reached down to claim a nipple in each hand, teasing and pinching it, rolling it tight between those big fingers of his, adding insult to injury and ratcheting up my level of desire to the point where I thought I was going to come right then and there.
“Cry out my name,” he ordered.
And when he touched bottom, fully balls deep, when I had no more of myself to give him, I did exactly as he commanded.
I felt so full of him that it was almost unbearable—stretched and firmly packed and… possessed.
Truly possessed, in a way I hadn’t felt even last night when he’d taken me. I wanted to move.
But… to my complete humiliation, not to get away from him, not to escape this degrading thing that he was doing to me—but to lift my hips up to him. To offer myself to him, to give myself up to him completely, even though there was really nothing left for him to take.
I had already been taken.
Already been used.
Already owned.
/> A revenge fuck again and again.
As I tried to deal with my own body’s betrayal, to my horror his mouth found its way to my ear as he breathed into it in a voice that was almost as hoarse as mine was. “I’m going to make you come as I fuck you, Aria. I’m going to make you come hard.”
My mind rebelled at that idea—not after a punishment—but was overridden by my body. Yes, fuck me. Fuck me hard. Make me come. Please, make me come.
His right hand released its possessive hold on my breast to move downward. I felt him lift himself a bit away from me and had to ruthlessly suppress a cry of loss that would have given me away. He touched the top of my pussy and below where his fingertip sought and found a clit that was wholly, fully engorged, just like his cock within me.
I was more than wet enough to provide him with the lubrication he needed to do exactly what he wanted to with me. Those broad fingers immediately began to rub themselves over my folds as I felt him draw his hips back to plunge himself back inside me with a force that nearly had me squealing in both delight and pain.
He kept up a rhythm for the longest time, as if the two of us were competing to see how long we could hold out against each other and our orgasms. And he played dirty—varying the strength with which he fucked me, and the ways in which he tormented my clit, to say nothing of how he pulled and twisted and crushed my nipple, then soothed it for long moments only to repeat the cycle.
Agony.
Delightful agony.
And when he finally settled into fucking me even harder, driving himself into me relentlessly while his hands continued to torture and tease me, I was the one who broke first, ruining my voice even further as I tried to scream it out while my body contracted helplessly—ecstatically—around him.
And he didn’t stop then, didn’t let me go or let me relax, but hurled me into my next orgasm without a break, and then my third, and after a longer while my fourth.
Finally… fucking finally… he lost control of himself and grabbed my hips to pull them as close up against him as he could, losing himself within me over and over as he released his completion.
I fucking hated it.
But I loved it.
I fucking hated him.
But I needed him.
I wanted this all to stop.
But I wanted it again, and again, and again…
Chapter Thirteen
Aria
I woke up in Matthew’s bed alone. The sound of a helicopter taking off was all I needed to hear to know he had left the house. Left me.
I don’t know if his intent was for us to sleep together since he had given me my own room, but after having sex, he had pulled me into his body and we both collapsed into a heavy sleep. The trip, the emotions, the sexual activity all had taken its toll.
Getting out of bed, surprised I still wore my sweater even though my bottom half was bare, I searched the floor until I found my pants, giving up on finding my panties. I wanted to get out of his room as quickly as I could and back to the respectable walls of my own. I literally just slept with my captor as if we were two normal lovers, and the shame of that fact was far worse than any of the dirty acts I had done with this man in such a short time.
Sneaking out of his room, hoping desperately that Tennessee wouldn’t catch me, I tiptoed toward my bedroom.
“Good, you’re up,” Tennessee called from downstairs, freezing me in my tracks. “I have breakfast almost ready. Get ready and come on down.”
How in the world he heard me, I had no idea, but my stomach growling ordered me to listen to the man. That, and the last thing I needed was his wrath after just receiving Matthew’s.
“I’ll be right down,” I called back.
I quickly cleaned up and put on fresh clothes. I did my best to ignore that my ass was tender, and my pussy felt a bit raw from all the attention in the past two days it wasn’t used to. I wasn’t really a bacon and eggs type of person, but the smells greeting me as I walked down the stairs was about to change all of that.
“How do you like your coffee?” Tennessee asked as I entered the kitchen.
“Black is fine,” I said, grateful for the sense of normalcy after the last couple of days.
He handed me a large mug of coffee and returned to flipping his bacon. “Matthew headed back to New Orleans this morning?”
“New Orleans? Why?”
“That’s where Spiked Roses is and his business partners.”
“What’s Spiked Roses?” I asked.
“A member’s only men’s club for the wealthiest fucks in the world. Matthew and six other men own it. I run it when I’m not whisked away to care for a beautiful mafia princess.” Tennessee looked at me and winked.
I sipped my coffee as I tried to steady my rising nerves that seemed to always happen when it came to Matthew—even speaking about Matthew. “Did he say when he would return?” New Orleans was pretty far away, even with a helicopter and a private jet.
“A few days.”
“And what are we supposed to do here?”
Tennessee shrugged as he plated the bacon and then reached into the oven to pull out a plate of eggs that were kept in there to stay warm. “Hell if I know. I’m not used to this vacationing in a mountain cabin gig.” He walked over to the table and sat down, motioning for me to join him. “I guess we play Scrabble and shit.”
Scrabble and shit? Was he serious?
“Did Matthew tell you why I’m here? How I got here?” I asked, realizing that Tennessee may be innocent in all this and truly have no idea.
Tennessee reached across the table and dished some eggs and then bacon onto my plate. “He did. And though I’m not one to condone kidnapping, I trust the man. I also trust that this will all work out in the end.”
“For who?” I tried to keep my voice and tone calm. Maybe I could reason with this man to get us out of here while Matthew was away.
“He’s not going to hurt you,” Tennessee said. “Unless you want to count that ass whoopin’ you got last night. But I feel you had that coming. You could have prevented that, sugar plum.”
I scowled at the man sitting across from me, and I would have told him to go fuck himself, but I had a mouthful of eggs and I was a lady. If Tennessee heard the spanking, then no doubt he heard the sounds of pleasure that also came from Matthew’s room. I could have been embarrassed, and in any normal situation I would have been. Mortified, in fact. But for some reason, I felt anything but. It wasn’t like this man could judge me for what I did when he was an accomplice to kidnapping.
“It could be a hell of a lot worse, and we could be in a lot of worse places.” He pointed to the softly falling snow outside. “I’m going to appreciate the break from the sweaty and sticky heat of New Orleans.” He looked back at me. “Have you ever been there?”
“Yes. A few times. My father conducts business at the ports on occasion.”
“So, you help run your father’s business?” Tennessee seemed surprised by that incorrect assumption.
“No. He just likes me to travel with him wherever he goes. He feels it’s safer that way.” I huffed. “And yet, here I am. So, his little plan didn’t exactly work.”
“Matthew said your father is a crime boss.”
I nodded. “And he’s planning on the demise of Matthew Price as we speak.”
“Matthew is a powerful man himself. And your father pissed him the fuck off.”
“What exactly did my father do?”
“He stole a huge shipment of paintings with hidden diamonds stashed in the back. They belonged to Matthew. And knowing Matthew, it’s not just about the money lost, it’s about the hit on his pride.”
“Yeah, well kidnapping Vittorio’s daughter isn’t going to go over well. My father has just as much pride.”
“A good ol’ battle of wills may take place. But my bet is on Matthew coming out of this the victor.”
“And my bet is on my father,” I said. “And it’s not just because I’m his daughter. I know how
ruthless that man is more than anyone else. He won’t just lose what he feels is now his. Regardless of how he got the property.”
“Well, for your sake, I hope he comes to reason. It would be a shame to see something happen to you all because of your pops being an asshole.”
“He’s more than an asshole,” I mumbled as I shoveled more eggs into my mouth to shut me up.
“Aww, I feel the love.”
Love? What exactly does that mean?
“What about your mother? Any siblings?” he asked.
“It’s just me and my father. And the several yes men in suits he keeps around us at all times.”
“I grew up in a small family too. Just me and a sister for the most part. My mama died young and my daddy was a drunk piece of shit.”
“My mother died young too,” I said, realizing I rarely spoke of her and didn’t feel like doing so now.
Tennessee stood up and began cleaning up the plates. “Did you get enough to eat?” he asked.
I nodded.
“So, I hear your dad is one kinky fuck,” Tennessee said.
“I suppose so.”
“No shame in that. I make a living because of kinky fucks.”
I looked at him with my interest piqued. “I thought you said you ran Spiked Roses.”
“Yeah and that club hosts the raunchiest and dirtiest parties—which we call Tastings—you can imagine. But I’ve heard of your daddy’s pet parties. Is that where Matthew found you? Were you a naughty kitty?” Tennessee laughed, and I could bet money that he assumed I had nothing to do with the parties and he was just teasing me.
“I hate Scrabble,” I announced out of nowhere, wanting to change the subject. I was sick of talking about and thinking about my father. And I most certainly didn’t want to talk about how I met Matthew. It only made the memories of what I did with the man that night come rushing in.
“But have you tried drunk Scrabble?” Tennessee asked with a charming smile. “Anything can be fun with a gin & tonic in your hand and sitting by the fire. I think we can make the best out of this day. Trust me.”