Somebody’s Perfect

by Kallypso Masters

Any residual tension released from her, and she smiled. “I can try.”

  “Thank you. That’s all I ask. Now, remove your blouse.” With only a slight hesitation, she let it slide down her arms, leaving her in only a bra and panties. He stepped closer, his chest brushing her shoulder blades as he wrapped his arms around her, sliding his hands below her belly as he nuzzled her neck. “Because someone needs to correct this wanton behavior of yours before you get hurt flashing the wrong man.”

  “I leave my training in your hands, Sir.”

  He moved his free hand up to her breast and squeezed before sliding the tawse down her side and around the back to slap against her ass, bringing the blood to the surface in both cheeks. Her little gasp made him smile. He liked catching her off guard.

  “Why don’t we continue this in your bedroom?” He whispered in her ear.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  To cut to the chase, rather than parade her around the room pretending to walk to her bedroom, he turned her so that her back was to the window now. “Nice room you have.”

  “Thank you. What would you like me to do, Sir?”

  “Stand just as you are, and let me look at you.” Look? Who was he kidding? He positioned himself behind her, cupping one breast as he pinched her nipple through her bra. She moaned, letting her head tilt backward and sucking in a breath as he squeezed harder.

  “Ay, güey.”

  “Translation, please, Sir?”

  “Roughly, Oh, man.”

  “Ah. I love your Mexican colloquialisms. They sound exotic and sexy as hell. But, Sir, I’ve been waiting for you all week.”

  “You don’t know how I’ve longed to do this for days now.” He gave her nipple one last pinch. “I need to see more of you, savita.” His little Savi. “Remove your panties.” He stepped around her to watch from her side. How had her fantasy world gotten him so hot, so fast? They made love almost every night, so it wasn’t like he’d been deprived. Perhaps he enjoyed the idea of another man admiring his woman—as long as Damián was the only one reaping the rewards and it was pure fantasy.

  “Yes, Sir.” With a shaky breath, she slipped her panties down her legs and stepped out of them.

  Damián’s gaze zeroed in on the curve of her gorgeous ass. He shifted to ease the ache in his pants as his dick continued to strain against his leathers. He’d never grow tired of her body.

  Grinning, he closed the gap between them again while placing the tawse back on the carabiner. He released the bra hooks and slid the straps down her arms before tossing it on the opposite side of the bed. Slipping his hands around her, he cupped her heavy tits and squeezed her nipples, pressing his cock against her ass, until she moaned. She so loved pain.

  “I need to remember that I’m not pregnant in this fantasy,” she said, coming out of the fantasy.

  “Focus, querida.” Savannah took a deep breath to ground herself again. “It’s mind over matter.” He leaned closer, inhaling her scent and trailing kisses along the slim column of her neck.

  “You smell good enough to eat.”

  “I think that could be arranged.” When he broke contact with her, her lips were pressed together as she fought back a grin.

  Perhaps a little fantasy within a fantasy. “Even now, I can feel my tongue circling the folds of your clit, lapping at the juices flowing from your sweet pussy as you lie over the seat of my Harley with your ass in the air.”

  She opened her mouth to draw in more air. “What kind of spell have you cast on me, Sir? You make me so hot thinking about what you plan to do to my ass. And I’m not the kind of girl who invites strange men into her house.”

  Her sexy mix of teasing temptress and reluctant virgin had him teetering on the brink of sanity. Time to take charge if he wanted to last long enough to give her the release her body sought. While orgasms weren’t the goal in this afternoon’s session, he knew what would take her mind off her problems.

  “Which reminds me. I came over here to talk with you about endangering your safety in front of your bedroom window. You might not be so fortunate as to find someone like me watching you next time. That is a behavior I would like to correct. Now.” He unhooked the tawse again and let it skim over her round ass. “Give your Dom your prettiest presentation pose, savita.”

  Without hesitation, she spread her legs to where her ankles were even with her shoulders and clasped her hands at the small of her back. She held her head high and straight. He couldn’t see her eyes, but if she hadn’t been blindfolded, no doubt they would have been cast downward. He walked around her, admiring every inch of her beautiful body.

  “Lovely. Now, naughty girl, tell me if there have been any other lapses in judgment or behavior that might require the attention of your newfound Dom.”

  “I masturbated last night, thinking of you standing beside my bed and watching.”

  Since he’d been in bed with her the entire night, this was still part of her fantasy. His dick pressed against his leathers as he remembered the times he’d watched her masturbate, all the way back to that first time when he’d had to tie her to the gyno table at the club. “Masturbation itself isn’t a problem, and I wasn’t your Dom last night.”

  “But it felt naughty to be doing something against my upbringing.”

  “Fair enough. From now on, this is my pussy”—he cupped and squeezed her mound—“and you are not to touch it without my permission.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Anything else I need to be aware of?”

  She bit the inside of her lower lip, and her brow furrowed as she considered her response. “Nothing that I can think of.”

  As naughty girls went, she had a long way to go. But he wasn’t meting out a true punishment.

  “What do you feel would be a fit punishment for these lapses?”

  “I need a strong Dom to provide discipline so that I can improve my behavior.”

  “Sí, you do.” This would only be a disciplinary spanking in their fantasy. Mierda, he could remember a time when she’d have avoided pain at all costs, but now her body craved and welcomed it.

  “I need to be spanked, Sir. With your tawse, if you like.”

  He slapped the implement against the palm of his hand and smiled when she jumped. “It’s time for your punishment, savita.”

  Chapter Three

  Savannah’s heart pounded as she waited for Damián to position her for her punishment. Would he use the tawse as she suggested? The anticipation was killing her. She needed to feel the delicious bite of that or some other toy. Psychologically, she knew her love of pain had come from years of conditioning by Gentry and Lyle, but Damián had turned something sordid and humiliating into an intimate, sensual act between the two of them that totally set off every ounce of pleasure her body could muster.

  He walked around her, occasionally slapping the three hard, leather strips against his hand or leathers. The first few slaps made her jump. “Each time you change your position or fail to obey, there will be consequences. ¿Comprendes?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Now, Savannah, tell me why you’re being disciplined.”

  “I put myself in danger by exposing myself to someone I didn’t know.”

  “Are we forgetting something?”

  “Oh, Sir! I’m sorry, Sir!” While she was a rookie in this fantasy, she couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to address him the way she did during their playtimes.

  “And I also was pleasuring myself. It’s been so long since I’ve invited a man into my—” Without warning, a half-second after she felt the heat of his body on her breast, he sucked one tender nipple inside his mouth while pinching the other. “Oh, God, yes!” Her womb clenched in anticipation, and her knees nearly buckled with need. She clamped her hands around his ears to hold him in place.

  Suddenly, his teeth and hand released her. “What happened to the pretty pose you’re supposed to be giving me?”

  She quickly returned her hands to the small of her back and positio
ned her shoulders so that her breasts would be completely accessible to him again, but she no longer felt the heat of his body. A sense of loss overtook her, bringing a sting to her eyes. She bit into her lower lip as she waited for him to touch her nipples again.

  He hadn’t used nipple clamps on her since she’d discovered she was pregnant, because her breasts had been hypersensitive. She wished he would today, though. Perhaps if he chose the tweezer type and didn’t tighten them overly much, she’d find heightened pleasure and release. But first he would have to deal with her inability to hold her position despite distraction, something else they’d been working on. Focus.

  “Ow!”

  The tips of the stiff leather rhythmically struck her nipples, slowly at first then faster. Savannah flinched, but this time held her position. She couldn’t catch her breath as the tawse swiped across her nipples dozens of times, stinging more than when he used a flogger on them, the sensation more intense than his tongue and fingers. Jolts of pain shot up her chest and neck. Faster, they came. When her chest expanded with her inhalations, he sometimes hit her areola or the fleshy part of her breast instead, but his precision with this toy was as accurate as with the whip. He probably landed each strike exactly where he intended.

  All too soon, the barrage of slaps against her nipples and breasts came to a halt, and she drew a deep breath to prepare for what was to come.

  “Thank you for disciplining me, Sir.”

  He chuckled. “Who said that was part of your punishment? I just enjoy watching your nipples engorge when stimulated.”

  Her sex grew wet thinking there was more to come.

  “However, your break in protocol will require added discipline.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her nipples burned from the tawse, and her chest heaved as she tried to control her breathing.

  “I know you were caught up in the moment and are new to this, though, so I’ll go easy on you. Fifteen strokes for all offenses up to now.”

  Only fifteen? Would that be enough?

  “You will count and thank me for each one.”

  Anticipation warred with a bit of trepidation. She loved the feeling after the endorphins hit, but always was a little nervous just before the beginning. After all, it did hurt! And Damián could make that leather toy sting far worse than the whip. From experience, the initial slaps would be the worst, but then she would be transported to the place of euphoria she needed to be in right now.

  Don’t go back there.

  “Because you’re so fond of my Harley, I want to bend you over the bed to deliver your blows. You’re to imagine yourself bending over the seat of my Harley.”

  Oh dear Lord. Just the thought of fulfilling that fantasy nearly made her come.

  He wrapped his arm around her back to lead her toward the four-poster bed. A couple of months ago, Damián had added a second mattress on top of the box springs making the bed the perfect height for their new favorite position—her bent over the bed—perfect for this stage in her pregnancy. But she hadn’t realized it was the perfect height to imitate his Harley during her fantasy.

  “Bend forward at the hips.”

  One hand cradled her breast as the tawse pressed into her upper back, and she leaned toward what she expected would be the mattress. Her head came down on a pillow, but she could smell leather nearby, reminding her of the Harley seat. In her mind’s eye, she was totally in the garage bent over his bike.

  “Hands at the side of your head. Grip the bike’s seat and prepare for your punishment, my naughty Princess Slut.” His voice came from behind her, delivering her favorite endearment when they played. Anxious to feel the sting, she complied quickly, pretending the pillow was the bike’s seat.

  His terse commands helped settle any remaining nerves. The tawse lightly tapped the backs of her thighs. He lightly smacked both ass cheeks with his hand a few times to bring the blood to the surface. “Muy caliente, savita.”

  She held her breath, waiting. Waiting. When was he going to start? Suddenly, he laid it across both cheeks.

  “Ow!” The force of the sturdy blow took her breath away, but when she could think again, she smiled. Fifteen like that, and she’d be right where she wanted to be in no time.

  “Is that how you count and thank me, savita?”

  “No, Sir! One, Sir. And thank you!”

  His next slap landed on her upper thighs near where her ass met, a sweet spot for delivering maximum pain. She hissed upon impact, although it wasn’t delivered as hard as the first one had been. “Two. Thank you, Sir.”

  For the next two, he placed one resounding crack on each cheek. Her hands gripped the pillow, and he paused after her next thank you to squeeze her cheeks, intensifying the pain.

  “Oh, God! Yes!”

  His fingers easily slipped between her folds. “So wet for me.”

  Only for you.

  Still eleven blows to go. He landed the tawse loudly over her upper thighs again, much harder this time.

  She screamed as the pain shot down her legs and up into her butt. “Five! Thank you, Sir.”

  The leather toy gently stroked her ass and thighs, eliciting a moan from her. Before she could prepare herself to continue, the leather lifted away from her skin and impacted both butt cheeks. The pain receded more quickly now.

  “Six, Sir. Thanks.”

  While she heard herself counting out and thanking him for the next three, her mind began to drift. She was aware of Damián—his body, his words, his tawse—but nothing else mattered as she started to float and feel…bliss.

  * * *

  Damián’s cock nearly sprang from his pants looking at her reddened ass and thighs. Too bad this wouldn’t end with him burying himself inside her wet pussy. He paused a moment to regain his focus. He leaned over her and slid the sleep mask up to her forehead so he could assess her current state. She blinked her eyes open, staring blindly at him with a dreamy smile on her face. When he moved his hand, though, she still tracked him. Not quite there yet. But close. It took so little for her these days, her trust in him had become that deep.

  “That’s it, bebé. Float for me.” He brushed her lips lightly with his and returned to his strike zone to take her the rest of the way home. He intended to deliver the remaining six strokes with lessening force. Just enough to reach subspace.

  After three more strokes, she whispered, “Number twelve. Thank you…Sir.” He suspected she was deep in subspace by that point.

  “Spread your legs for me, savita.”

  She followed his command without hesitation. A little eager, maybe? He took the stiff leather and sawed the edge back and forth along her pussy’s crack, eliciting a long moan followed by a hiss when he wiggled the leather against her clit.

  “You do not have permission to come.”

  With only a slight delay, she said, “I won’t, Sir.”

  Wanting to take her the rest of the way on his own, he slapped the tawse against her pussy with a loud thwack.

  Savannah didn’t scream but drew a deep, sucking breath. She did so love pain. And he loved that it distracted her.

  “Are we forgetting something?”

  She was probably close to forgetting her name at this point, but still managed to squeak out, “Thirteen. Thank you.”

  Damián decided to excuse her lapse in using his title this time. He delivered another blow to her pussy, making sure the strips of leather in the tawse impacted her mound and clit hood. This time, she screamed, “Son of a bitch!” After breathing rapidly a few moments, clenching her fists into the pillow, she added, “I mean, Fourteen, Sir. Thank you.”

  Savannah rarely cussed. He had her at her most primal self now. For the final blow, he raised his arm and delivered it down the crack of her ass, no doubt giving her asshole a jolt she felt to her core.

  “Oh, yesss! Fifteen. Thank you, Sir.” He wasn’t sure if her excitement was because the spanking was over or because of the sensation, but didn’t care to explore that right now.

  S
etting the tawse on the steam trunk at the foot of the bed, he removed the blindfold. “Ready, Savannah?”

  Savannah moaned, keeping her eyelids closed. “Eyes, savita.” She blinked several times, disoriented and unfocused, lost halfway between reality and euphoria. Pupils dilated evenly. Not tracking. Hell, yeah, definitely in subspace.

  He pinched both nipples dangling temptingly unsupported at the edge of the mattress, smiling when she winced.

  “You are mine and mine alone, savita. Your body. Your heart. And your mind.”

  “Yes. All yours, Sir,” she mumbled, her eyelids half-closed.

  Worried she might dehydrate after such an intense session, he went to the nightstand to retrieve a water bottle and held it to her lips until she finished half of it. Then he guided her toward their aftercare chair, bringing the bottle with them. After settling himself first, he took her hand and tugged her gently onto his lap and covered her with an afghan her friend and mentor, Anita, had made for them as a wedding gift.

  Savannah rested her cheek against his shoulder with a sigh, and he placed his chin on her head, holding her tight in the circle of his arms. He’d let her float a while before they finished with two much-needed orgasms.

  His mind wandered to the upcoming trial and what he’d need to do to prepare Savannah to face the monster from her past. While Damián would be present in the courtroom, she’d have to leave his side at some point and take the stand. He anticipated a churning up of brutal memories for her as the trial grew closer, erasing all the progress he’d made with her this year. If he could have done anything over, he’d have shot the bastard when they rescued Savannah last March. Then she would never have had to face him again.

  But if Gentry did anything to hurt her, their unborn baby, or Marisol, he’d find a way to take him out and rid the world of the cabrón once and for all time.

  Savannah moaned, and he stroked her arm to soothe away any thoughts that might intrude upon her euphoria. She was an empathetic, sensitive person and might be feeling his own tension right now.

  She sighed and relaxed against him again. “That’s it, bebé. Just float. I have you.”