Casey's Choice

by Alexis Alvarez

  He shook his head. “I wish I could, but there’s no time for that.”

  “Then… what?” Confused, she frowned, but comprehension dawned when he said, “Last night I promised you the brush and the crop. I always keep my promises.”

  She sucked in a breath. “But—”

  “Now.”

  “You mean, now, now?”

  “Yes.”

  “If I don’t want to?”

  “If you want to be my submissive, Sofia, then you need to obey my orders when we are together, regardless of whether you especially want to carry them out. Use Sir while you do. Or use your safeword.”

  She met his eyes and saw that he wasn’t joking. He’d respect a safeword, she knew it, but if she used it now, she would have failed a test. And she didn’t want to fail him.

  “Okay. Sir.”

  He leaned in and whispered into her ear, “Don’t worry; you’ll want to.” And the simple touch of his lips to her skin had her heart hammering in her chest and arousal surging in her body. God. And when he added in his regular voice, “Fetch the crop from my room,” she sucked in her breath.

  Hurrying to his room to fetch the implement, she felt concern despite her excitement. He had promised not to bruise or mark her ass, and he hadn’t—so he clearly wouldn’t spank her too hard with the crop. But why bother at all, if they weren’t going to have sex? Maybe he just wanted a quickie? Well, she’d be good with that. Any orgasm was a good orgasm.

  The crop was still there, and she took it in her hand, marveling at how small the leather tip was. When she turned around, he was standing in the doorway, and she jumped, putting her free hand to her chest. “You startled me.” She expected him to approach her, touch her; he didn’t.

  “I’m going to spank you in the foyer,” he told her in a matter-of-fact voice. “If you behave, it will go quickly enough for both of us to get going on time. Undress and meet me there with the crop. Don’t waste time. I need to make another call after I finish your punishment.” He strode from the room.

  Casey frowned, irritated at his casual confidence and his decidedly non-seductive tone. “What if I don’t want to get spanked right now?” she called after him, but he didn’t answer. “I might not be into it,” she added, to herself. “Maybe I just want to get home.”

  No reply. She sighed and stripped off the borrowed shirt and pants. When she was naked, she bit her lip. She took the crop and walked through the room, her feet silent on the thick carpet, then cold on the marble tile.

  He stood waiting in the foyer, beside Le Rêve. Beside him was a chair, facing the painting, as if a viewer were going to sit and admire it alone.

  “Face the painting. Grab the back of the chair and walk your legs out a foot or so,” he ordered, taking the crop from her hand. “Yes, like that. Spread your legs a little.”

  Casey obeyed, her heartbeat accelerating. Once again, the promise of a spanking had her arousal beginning to burn. She’d gone from zero interest to raging desire just from stripping and walking out with the crop—Hunter knew how to turn on a kinky woman.

  “This,” he announced, “is for last night. It’s an example of punishment, the kind you might not like as much. This is for your attitude. I’m going to spank you, you’re going to take it without complaint, and you’re not going to come. At least, not here. After you go home, I can’t control what you do.” But then he stepped forward, grabbed her neck, and whispered into her ear, “Yet,” and the mere idea of his control, and the feel of his lips on her skin, made her moan out, “God, Hunter.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Stand still for these,” he demanded. “Don’t ask how many. Don’t tell me it hurts. Don’t say a word. Just accept the spanking from me, Sofia.”

  She nodded. “Yes, Sir.” Her legs trembled and her body coursed with adrenaline. She’d never experienced anything like this before.

  He added, “Safeword if you need to. Not because you want to. Understand the difference?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good.”

  She heard a swish, as if the crop was flying through the air, and flinched her hips hard, expecting a strike, but the crack, when it came, didn’t hurt. “Testing on my hand,” he said, and she heard a smile in his voice. “Did you expect it to be on your body?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “I did.”

  “Mmm, I thought so.” The crop swished, and again she twitched, but it was another test—she felt nothing. “Hunter.”

  “Quiet. I’ll start soon enough, and then you’ll wish you hadn’t asked for it.”

  She groaned, then jumped when he ran the crop over her shoulders, back and forth, then down her spine toward the cleft of her ass. He kept going and ran the crop down between her cheeks, pressing it in, a lewd movement that sparked new moisture to surge between her legs. She wiggled her hips, wanting him to move the tip of the crop lower, between her thighs.

  “You like that?” he asked, his voice interested, sexy.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “And this?” He ducked the crop down and stroked it between her legs, and she cried out at the sensation of the firm leather against her clit. “Yes.”

  “How about this?”

  The swish of the crop in air surprised her and the pop of pain that burned on her skin, bright and hot, felt like a brand. She screamed in surprise. “Ouch.”

  “Shh. Quiet now, and stand still.”

  The crop hit again on the other cheek, and she stifled a cry. This hurt more than she expected. How could something so small be so fierce?

  Hunter struck again and again, the crop licking at her skin like bees, drops of molten metal. She squealed and twisted, but managed to keep her hips in line with his aim, wishing to please him by obeying his edicts. But after about thirty or forty blows, her whole ass was burning to the point where she couldn’t control her movements or her voice.

  She cried out at an especially sharp hit at the bottom of her buttocks. “I can’t. It hurts, Hunter.”

  Without meaning to, she reached back to cover her ass with one hand, leaving the other one as an anchor on the chair. “It stings more than the brush, God, ouch.”

  “Sofia. When I spank you, you don’t reach back. That’s dangerous; I could hit your fingers. It’s also disrespectful.”

  “But I can’t help it. It hurts so much.”

  “You can help it. Use your self-control. Accept this as a chastisement and a reminder that you need to obey me. If I need to tie you up, I will, but it will cost you a penalty.”

  “What kind of penalty?”

  “You’ll see if you need it.” His voice was wicked. “I’ll enjoy it, but you might not.”

  “I don’t need to be tied up. I won’t reach back. I promise.” She felt tears in her eyes. And what was really messed up? Crying for him turned her on.

  “Are you crying?” His voice was calm, now.

  “Y-yes.” She felt a tear run down her face.

  “Because?”

  “It hurts. And I don’t know what you’re going to do. It’s scary.”

  “And that is so arousing to me,” he said, kissing the side of her neck. “And it can be for you, too, although remember, I’m not going to let you come this morning. Punishment only for you.”

  He started again with the crop, going harder this time, and she whimpered and cried out, trying to accept it, to just stand there and let the spanks hit.

  When she flinched once more and put her hand back, he grabbed it. “Don’t.” Then he whispered into her ear, his voice almost as desperate as she felt, squeezing her fingers in his, “Watch the painting while I crop you. Look at her face. Let her look at yours. Give her your cries, your tears, you sobs, your passion. Let her soak that up along with all of the other emotions she has. Give it to her so I can see it later, when I sit on this chair and think about what we did. I want to see something other than her empty gaze. Give this to me.” He pulled back and snapped the crop onto her thighs and she squealed,
jumped, locked her eyes on the painting.

  “Hunter.” His words made her so high with emotion and need that she felt she could withstand more pain, at least she wanted to; she burned to give him what he needed, but it was nearly too much. She squeezed the back of the chair with all her strength.

  “Keep your eyes forward.” He cracked her again, the hardest yet, and she cried out, tried to focus her pain into a small point of light by staring at various parts of the painting, memorizing the shapes, the colors, the brushstrokes. Distraction. The passion would fit into the curve of her arm; the pain into the sharp elbow. The desperation in her eyes. The submission in the fact that she was tied on the wall, forever still, forever locked into that exact position.

  As the crop fell time and again, she felt that she was close to her limits—at least, she’d never be able to keep her hands away from her ass, and she did need to sit today. “Hunter!” she called out, and her voice was strangled with emotion. “No more.” She could feel the change in her voice, the tension in her stance, and when he landed one more stroke, panic welled up in her body and her eyes blurred on the painting, and she shot up in alarm, hands protecting her aching buttocks. “Enough. Mercy. I’m done.”

  He stopped and she heard the crop drop. “Done, then,” he said, and took her into his arms. “Good girl. Shhh. You did well, Sofia.”

  She fell into his arms, shaking, and he sat in the chair and pulled her onto his lap. Her punished ass was so sore against the fabric of his pants that she shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position that alleviated the burn. “Ouch, that hurt,” she whispered into his chest, tears wetting his shirt, forgetting the painting, forgetting everything except her body and the fire he’d ignited.

  “I know,” he said, stroking her hair. “And if it weren’t a punishment, I’d have my mouth between your legs right this minute, licking your juices and bringing you to ecstasy, a bliss that is only better for the pain. But sometimes you’re going to need a reminder about who’s the master, a reminder that you earn your pleasure as my submissive by behaving according to my rules.”

  “Not fair,” she sniffled.

  “It has nothing to do with fair,” he responded. “It’s the way this works. You said yes.”

  “I know that.” She wiped her eyes. “But my ass is so sore right now, and it’s not fair that you won’t turn it into an orgasm for me. I’m angry at you. I want to punch you.”

  He laughed. “I’ll tell you a secret that’s not so much of a secret. Later on, when you touch yourself at night, you’re going to think about this exact moment, how I punished you and didn’t let you come. How sore you were, and how mad, and how frustrated. And when you come at your own hand, it’s going to be such a powerful orgasm that you won’t even believe it. It will be almost just as good as what we had together last night. So don’t hate what I did just now. It’s part of our relationship, and it will be good for you. Right now you learn control, which I like to have over you. Later on, you get to enjoy delayed gratification. Win win.”

  “You’re pissing me off.” She pushed at his shoulder, trying to stand up. “Let me go.” But she didn’t want to get up. She wanted to stay right there across his hard thighs, feeling his powerful erection beneath her naked legs.

  “No. Stay here.” His voice was iron. “Until I let you up, you stay right here.” He held her in place, and they breathed together for a moment, but when she reached down to rub him, he pulled her hand back. “No. That’s not for you, not now.”

  “You’re being a dick! I didn’t want to be spanked this morning.” She pushed at his arms. “What if I had something important to do?”

  “I’m sure everything you do is important,” he answered mildly. “I wouldn’t want to be with someone whose very life wasn’t important.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I do. And trust that I know my way around a crop, Sofia. It hurts like hell right now, and it will for the next few hours, and then it will fade fast, the pain. Just a few marks. Sore for the day, sore tomorrow, but not so much that you can’t concentrate or get things done.” He raised an eyebrow. “Including that orgasm that you’re going to give yourself as soon as you get home.”

  “You have no idea if I’m going to do that.” But as she moved again, feeling him beneath her body, she knew he was right. She imagined him touching himself as well, and caught her breath at the eroticism of that image, seeing him stroking himself, releasing with a growl.

  His smile was confident. “Oh, I think you will.” He set her on her feet. “And enjoy it, because when we get to a certain point, you’re not going to get any orgasms for free, especially after a punishment. I like to delay the gratification when my subs are disobedient. Get your things and I’ll walk you down to the car.”

  She glowered at him, and rubbed her ass. “It’s sore.”

  He laughed and gave her a quick slap, making her wince and squeak. “Stop it!”

  “Then get dressed and get your stuff. We have to go.”

  She refused to kiss him goodbye, although she gave a small wave through the dark window as he stood on the pavement, watching as the driver slid into the busy street.

  When she got home, she couldn’t move fast enough to get into her room, slam the door, and toss herself onto the bed. She was frantic, possessed, touching her clit as if her life depended on it, squeezing a nipple with her other hand, and when she came, the rush of pleasure was so immense that she thought she might pass out.

  And later on, when she did it again at night, it was even better.

  * * *

  To her surprise, she received a call from Max on Monday morning. His voice was deep and sounded sexy, even better than she remembered, and for a split second her heart thrilled to hear from him. “Sofia? I asked Hunter for your number. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “Oh. That’s sweet. I appreciate it.” She tried not to feel depressed that she wasn’t hearing from Hunter himself. Was he doing the ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ thing? Was he busy? Had he not been as blow away by their night as she had? She bit her lip, trying to focus on Max’s words.

  “Well, I do it for all new members.” His voice held a smile. “But I’ll take sweet. Everything good?”

  “Sure, yes.”

  “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, if you have questions or want to talk about anything, I’m here anytime.”

  “What would we talk about?”

  “Let’s say you felt freaked out after watching me and Cassia, and wanted to ask questions. Or maybe you want to discuss oil prices and the effect on pollution. It’s all fair game.”

  She laughed. “Okay, then. I actually do have questions about you and Cassia. But I’m at work, so… maybe I’ll ask when I see you.”

  “Or talk in code,” he suggested. “Or over lunch.”

  “Lunch?” Her stomach rumbled.

  “Sure, why not?” His voice was easy. “You work downtown, right? Icarus Modeling?”

  “Mmm.” She frowned. “Today I’m in the art district, though, for a—um, meeting. Near some galleries.”

  “Oh, you should try Chien Andalou, then,” suggested Max. “I’ve heard it’s fascinating.”

  Casey startled, looking down the block at the blue and white striped awning, visible from her window. Was he here? Did he see her? She stiffened up, darting her gaze up and down the street. “Max?”

  “Yes?” His voice sounded concerned.

  She forced a chuckle. “It’s just coincidental because I’m looking at it right now.” She neglected to add, “From my real job, in the gallery.”

  “Well, I’m only a few blocks away.”

  “Okay, let’s meet.” She didn’t know why she said it. It was an impulse move, but she thought his smile would be nice to see today. Maybe she could ask him questions about Hunter. “I’ll, uh, get us a table.”

  Scanning the menu, she caught a glimpse of a sexy man on the street. His physique and chiseled jaw made women lo
ok twice, and she did too, sucking in a breath when she realized it was Max, and she smiled when he came into the café and right up to her table. She was ridiculously proud to be the woman chosen by this man, the one everyone was admiring, even if it was just lunch.

  “Sofia.” He bent and kissed her cheek, his lips soft, but his chin scratchy with day-old growth. She liked the rough feel and look; coupled with his steel-blue eyes and his strong body, it gave him a devastatingly handsome appearance. “I’m glad you see you again.”

  “Me too.” And she was. His smile was irresistible, and his eyes smiled at her too, and the combination made her heart sing. “Have you eaten here before? My favorite dish is—”

  He interrupted. “Fried green apples with cinnamon and brown sugar in a bowler hat-shaped dish?”

  “I didn’t know you were here before?” Casey tapped the menu.

  He pointed at the wall. “I haven’t. Prints are all over.”

  Casey turned to look at a portrait of a man with a green apple where his face should be, and a picture of an apple dessert next to it. “Oh, yes. Right. Magritte. The cool thing is that they do have a menu item for each famous print on the wall. I’ve always wanted to try the Dali Dolly. It’s two identical lamb chops, side by side, each with a moustache made of twisted, baked spinach.”

  “Very funny.” He pointed at the wall. “And just in case we need the help, his portrait and a picture of cloned sheep, side by side. I love it.”

  “Me too.” She grinned.

  He scanned the menu. “Maybe I’ll try The Last Supper. Menu says it’s a salad comprised of the very last things they picked from the garden, so they’re ultra-fresh. Jesus. The price is thirty pieces of silver. This is so sacrilegious.”

  Casey shook her head. “I know, it’s terrible, but it’s funny at the same time. And their salads are amazing. I can’t afford to—” She broke off. “Can’t afford the calories in nearly anything else.” She bit her lip. She’d meant to say, I can’t afford to eat here usually, but Sofia wouldn’t have that problem. She felt awful and her appetite fled.