Trent Evans

by What She's Looking For

  There was a time a few weeks ago, he’d have spanked her for saying such a thing, and she’d have gladly let him. Now, the desperation he saw in her made him think twice about it. “Look at me, Ashley.”

  She met his gaze, those hazel orbs making him want to swim in their depths.

  “I don’t ever want to hear you say something like that again. You don’t know, you’ll never know the lives you’ve touched.” He swallowed down the uncharacteristic lump in his throat. “The world would be a worse place without you in it. My life would be immeasurably worse without you in it. You mean more than you think to this world. Don’t forget it.”

  A gust of bitter wind blew ice crystals up against them, the chill sinking into Parker’s bones at last, but he knew he had to be careful here. There was no rushing this, perhaps his last chance to capture her for himself. For good.

  “Do you remember what we talked about at the beginning, Ashley?”

  Those big eyes blinked, as if she’d awakened from a trance. “Y-yes.”

  Parker inhaled deeply, his chest expanding as he fought to contain himself. Whether it was nerves, or lust, or both, his control held by the thinnest of threads. “This running away you do. It’s games.” His hand lifted her chin. “I won’t have them. Not ever. If you want to try again, you need to make a choice.”

  Ashley dropped her gaze then, and for a second he thought she might cry. Then she did something that both stunned and touched him.

  She grasped his hand.

  Her palm stroked warmth over his frozen knuckles, those delicate fingers tracing the network of veins along the back of his hand. “I’m scared, Sir.” She squeezed his hand in both of hers. “So fucking scared.”

  Parker pulled her hand into his lap, placing it palm down on his thigh. “A last choice for you then, girl. If you want to try again, really try — no bullshit running away — then I want you to get up and go in the house.” He looked out over the expanse of his property, the deserted icy road, the way the stalks of grass vibrated in the cold breeze blowing across the snow. “You’ll make us coffee, then take off your clothes — every fucking stitch — kneel in front of the couch and lay your head on the cushions.”

  Her intake of breath at his words could just be heard over the dull noise of the wind in his rapidly numbing ears.

  Ashley glanced up at him, one eyebrow raised. “What happens then?”

  “Anything I want,” he said, his voice much more calm than he felt. “That’s when any input from you on the rest of your day ends.” He cocked his thumb over his shoulder. “If you decide to walk through that door, you’ll do what I tell you to do. Exactly what I tell you to do.”

  “And what if I … what if I don’t?”

  “Then I’ll make you.”

  Her swallow made him want to kiss her swollen, increasingly pale lips. “Am I going to be … punished?”

  His nod had her biting her bottom lip between perfect white teeth.

  “How?” Her voice trailed off to a whisper, though he couldn’t tell if the tremble in her tone was borne of fear or lust — or both.

  “In or out, Ashley.” Parker stood, his legs already stiff in the icy breeze, regretting the fact that his warm-ups did nothing to hide his hard cock. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at her. Right now he needed to be strong, he didn’t want it to be so obvious how much he desired her, needed her. “Walk through that door, or don’t. It’s your choice.”

  Those hazel eyes almost undid him, nearly causing his stern facade to crumble under their power. “Don’t you want to talk about this, Parker?”

  His jaw clenched. “That would be ‘Sir’, unless you’ve decided not to go inside. Is this it, Ashley? Really it?”

  It didn’t have to be, shouldn’t have to be, but somehow he knew. If she balked now, it would never be the same. This really was the last chance. Whether this was truly the end or merely the end of the beginning, hung on Ashley’s decision.

  A stronger gust galloped across the snowy field, blowing up from the road below, the tick tack sound of ice crystals spraying against the house the only counterpoint to the moan of the wind.

  Ashley glanced up at Parker, then squinted against the breeze, every second feeling like an eon, his need for her almost too much to bear. Then she rose, looking away but laying her small hand on his forearm.

  Don’t go. Christ, don’t go, Ashley.

  The words were on his lips, the breath to speak them nearly exhaled, when she turned slowly and walked up the stairs, the door creaking closed behind her.

  Parker turned his face into the wind, wincing a smile against the frigid needles stabbing his skin.

  Finally, it could begin.

  ***

  He smiled as he walked through the door. She’d remembered the proper way to display her body. He’d never get tired of that ass, its broad pleasing curves spread upon her bare heels, the dusky wetness of her sex just visible below the join of her cheeks. As the door shut, the dark whorl of her anus clenched, and a muffled murmur could be heard against the cushions.

  “Put your hands up on the couch,” he said, pacing behind her. “Rest your head on your arms. I don’t want to hear a sound from you.”

  She complied slowly, her rib cage moving as she brought her arms up, Parker longing to run his fingers along those delicate ridges, feel the softness of her skin.

  “Stay where you are, Ashley. I’ve got something for you.”

  Strolling down the hallway, he suppressed a sigh of relief, contentment and anticipation swelling within him. This was how things should be; her under his thumb, naked, obedient, anxiously waiting for her sentence to be pronounced.

  All was right with the world when Ashley was his.

  Opening the closet door, he found it. He’d had it made for her several weeks ago, but it hadn’t been shipped to him until the day before she’d fled. He’d sat on the bed last night, turning it over in his hands, unexpectedly hurt that he’d probably never get the chance to use it. That pain had angered him, and he’d thrown it in the closet, determined to never look at it again.

  Until she returned.

  As he walked back out to the living room, he stripped off the sweat-soaked t-shirt, the warmth of the house making it feel clammy against his skin. He didn’t care if he smelled, if she found him dirty. She was about to experience just what it meant to be owned by him. By both of them.

  Her surprised jerk made him smile as he placed the black leather of the tawse against her bottom. “What are you being punished for?”

  “I … I don’t know, Sir.”

  The leather smacked her ass, not hard, but the blow was enough for a sharp intake of breath. The tension in the room excited him, the anticipation of hearing her cries, watching that creamy flesh flush red, then crimson, made him want to rush into it. But there was pleasure to be found in each stage of a punishment — including the wait.

  “Try again, Ashley.”

  “For running?”

  “That’s right.” He stroked the menacing length of stiff rawhide across the pale expanse of one ass cheek. “And do you feel that’s wrong or unfair? Should you be punished for making me worry, for making me wonder if we’d ever see you again?”

  “I’m sorry, Sir. I had to.” Her voice broke on the last syllable, and he let her sniffle, knowing she needed this as much as the punishment. “I was afraid. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Running from us is the exact wrong thing to do.” He pressed the leather to her ass again. “How can we protect you, if we don’t even know where you are?”

  “I — I don’t think you can protect me from this, Sir.”

  His voice lowered to a growl. “And what makes you think that?”

  She hid her head in her arms, her ribcage expanding with a great, hitching breath.

  The leather whipped down on her soft bottom again, and she yelped. “I’m waiting, girl. I expect an answer.”

  “Please, Sir!”

  “Are you sti
ll afraid of me? Is that what you can’t be protected from? What’s so wrong about that? You need to be afraid of me, at least a little, yes?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  “Then what’s wrong? You know I’d never really hurt you, girl. Tell me what it is.”

  “It’s me, Sir. I’m afraid of what I want, of what I think I need.” She sniffled again, and the urge to cradle her in his arms and taste her tears on his lips was overwhelming. But he knew she did need this. She needed consequences, she needed the tree that wouldn’t bend, the cause and effect. More than anything though, she needed to know that he would always hold her accountable. They’d never talked about it in so many words, but Parker knew her well enough to see the truth of it.

  And he would give her exactly what she needed.

  Dropping to one knee, he laid the length of leather down on the cushions beside her, his hand stroking the sable fall of her hair, those locks that he’d feared he’d never get to run his fingers through again. “You never need to be afraid of your desires, Ashley. That’s why you’re here. Give them over, surrender them — just like you’ve surrendered your body.”

  His lips moved against the plane of her shoulder blade as he talked. “Nothing you could ever tell me, no need, no urge, no matter how dark you think it is, would ever make me not want you. Nothing you could say would make me less determined to make you mine.”

  “Sir, I’m so confused. You have no idea.” She was weeping now, a quiet, heart-rending sound.

  “There’s nothing to be confused about, Ashley. Things are very clear to me.” He kissed the bumps of her spine, his lips lingering a moment against her skin as he spoke. “You’ve done something wrong, and you need to be punished for it. That’s what I’m going to do, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me, so you might as well give in. Let it go, relax — accept it.”

  Her breath hitched as she inhaled, her voice watery. “What then? How do we … how do I know what to do?”

  Parker stood, untying the string at the front of his warm-ups. “What then, Ashley? I’ll tell you exactly what. I’m going to strap you, then I’m going to fuck you. You’ll stay kneeling against that couch, silent, obedient, as I slide my cock into your pussy. I’ll fuck you as long and as hard as I like, then you’ll take my seed quietly, gratefully. Then we’ll have a little talk about how things are going to go from now on.”

  The jet leather lay like a serpent over the snowy softness of Ashley’s bottom, threatening, promising. Her body grew still. “Do you agree to this, girl? Is this what you need?”

  Her nod made his heart soar, even as his cock ached in the constriction of his warm-ups. “Then we’ll begin. Take this like a good girl, and we’ll start with a clean slate. All forgiven.”

  The first stroke smacked diagonally across the broadest expanse of her buttocks, the lush flesh rippling with the blow. A sharp exhale was her only response, a pinkening bar of hurt blooming across her skin.

  Two more blows, sounding like pistol shots, cracked across her ass, her mewing louder with each one, her hips swaying as the pain sank in. This really was for her, unlike any punishment he’d ever given her. Even though he was turned on — fuck was he ever turned on — it wasn’t because he was strapping her. It was because he really was giving her what she needed. He knew she felt bad for leaving, for the loose ends — for potentially squandering a chance at something so good.

  But he’d help her wash it all away.

  The leather smacked down in a steady rhythm, Parker making sure no part of her ass went untouched. When he’d laid down a good dozen strokes, he paused to run a hand over the warm, pinkening flesh. “A good start.”

  She sighed as his hand moved between the swelling cheeks, fingertips testing the tight anus, stroking down the perineum to the wet, soft heat of her sex. Two fingers slid between the lips, seeking her core, and she clenched upon them. He pistoned those fingers slowly, but deliberately, delighting in the wet sounds her pussy made as he worked her.

  “Just a taste for now, girl.” He withdrew his questing digits to a disappointed murmur. “You aren’t done by a long shot. Stick that ass out for me”

  He tapped the leather under her buttocks, the tip brushing the bare sole of her foot. “Up. Higher. Hollow that back. I want to see that cunt.”

  Her luscious bottom rose off her heels, its broad, heart-shaped glory making his mouth dry up and his cock ache. He was so glad she’s come back, that body his possession now. He was partial to a wide variety of body types, and saw the different beauty in each one, but he always came back to what was right, what called to him most. The lush curves of a woman, the round, pale bottom, the dramatic sweep of the wide hips, the nip of the waist, the soft, generous breasts. Ashley had everything he’d ever wanted in the feminine form.

  That she also happened to be the submissive yin to his dominant yang was almost … cosmic. For the millionth time since he’d first laid eyes on her dazzling form, Parker thanked the God he still wasn’t sure watched over him. He knew things could still fall apart, that there was so much that lay ahead, so many trials that might yet undo them.

  But now, with her gorgeous ass waving in the air, waiting, wanting, laid bare for anything he chose to do to it, none of that mattered. There was only her, and him. Lust and pleasure. Reunited, just when all seemed lost.

  He would worry about tomorrow when he had to. Right now, his woman needed a spanking, and her cunt needed a fucking. And he was just the man for the job.

  She yelped as the tawse snapped down, harder this time, her hips shaking as the sting sunk in. He made sure to lay the full length of the leather methodically across both cheeks, her lush buttocks shaking at the impact, the tip of the lash digging into the far hip. Once, twice, three times he smacked the tawse down, drawing a cry from her by the last one. He knew she’d have some marks on that far hip, and he smiled imagining the glassy-eyed fascination he’d see in her gaze as she stared at the bruises in the mirror tomorrow morning.

  “Do you think that’s enough, girl?” He swung the leather lazily against her cringing ass, watching her chest expand with her labored breathing. Individual darker lash marks were beginning to stand out from the flushed, pink background of her burning bottom. “Have I gotten through to you yet?”

  “If — If you think so, Sir.” Her voice was so muffled against her arms, he strained to make out her words. “Please, no more.”

  “There’s only one thing that’ll make it stop. Otherwise, you’ve got more coming, bad girl.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Her watery whimper made him smile, melting him for a moment. He leaned over, placing a soft kiss against her exposed ear. “Be strong for me, Ashley. First the fire, then the forgiveness.”

  She moved her cheek against him, and he kissed her there too, the trails of her tears glistening in the warm light of the room. Then he rose once more, tapping the leather against the swollen sex peeking from between her legs. “This wants more, I think. It’s never enough for it, is it?”

  “God no,” she moaned, her hips rotating against the tawse. “Please.”

  He wasn’t sure if she was agreeing with him, or entreating him to stop, but as the lash fell once more against her vulnerable bottom, those thoughts fled from his mind. Now, there was only his duty, his incredibly erotic duty to punish those snowy, soft cheeks until they flushed scarlet, until he’d ensured she felt as keenly in her flesh the hurt his heart had felt at her absence.

  Again and again he strapped her, even varying the strokes, some forehand, some backhand. Soon enough she was crying out at each blow, her weeping evident now, her sore bottom weaving in the air. He gave it a respite, pausing to stroke its heated, hurting curves with a palm, squeezing one or two of the more swollen weals with his fingers, only to take up the tawse once more, slashing it lengthwise down either leg, scoring the tender thighs with punishing strokes, vivid red marks rising on the vulnerable flesh immediately amid her keening groans. It was then that she pleaded
with him, told him she’d do anything, that she’d learned her lesson.

  “I believe you, my girl,” he whispered, draping the body-warmed tawse over her upper back, his fingertips playing through the beads of sweat pooling between her shoulder blades.

  Her tension melted into the couch then, and she wept fresh tears, her sweat-sodden hair clinging to her scalp. He pulled its weight back from her face, twisting it into a single thick braid, and laid it over a shoulder, exposing her nape to his kisses, the tip of his tongue tasting the salt of the sweat on her skin.

  “Please, Sir! Please, no more.” Her voice hitched with a sob. “I’m sorry. I was so afraid.”

  “I know, Ashley. It’s over.” He kissed her back, tasted the tender flesh at the join of shoulder and neck. He worked the waistband of his warm-ups over the jut of his erection, snatching them down his legs. She moaned as the head of his cock touched the blazing heat of her bottom, the tip trailing moisture across her burning flesh.

  He clasped her waist in his hands, the rightness of it stunning him. This was where he belonged, claiming her, making sure she knew who owned her, who would never, ever let her go again. Her place was with him, under him, subject to his rules, to his demands, to his lusts. He would make her his own in every way, in ways she couldn’t yet understand. Soon she wouldn’t know where he began and she ended. They would be only one — body, heart and soul.

  But first he needed this, she needed this, this affirmation that she was alive, that she was desired, that she was a woman wanting to be taken by her man.

  He slid into her in a long, achingly slow stroke, her cunt rippling, clamping upon him as he sank into her heat. When he was as deep as a man could go, he held himself within her as she gasped, her hands clawing for purchase into the cushions.

  “This. This is right, Ashley. This body is mine.” He pulled out, then slammed back fully within her, making her groan. “This cunt is mine. Don’t ever doubt it again, girl.”

  “Oh yes. Yes!” Her voice was strained, lust rendering it almost rough. “Fuck me. Please, God!”