by Zoe Blake
“I guess it did,” she muttered, desperately unsettled by her reaction to both him and being slapped across the face, and dropping her gaze once more in an attempt to regain control over herself.
“So, now we might be able to have a regular conversation,” Zainon went on as if nothing untoward had happened. “Let’s try this again. What’s your name, pretty doll?”
“Ella.”
“Ella.” He said it like a caress in that deep, husky voice of his. “I’m Zainon.” He shook her hand and she giggled. “So, is this your first after party?”
It’s my first party, period. “Yes.”
“It’s fairly tame so far,” he said. “I’m sure it will get more lively as the night progresses—it’s only just started.” He paused, his gaze suddenly assessing. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
“And how kinky are you?”
“I. Uh. What?”
“How much BDSM experience do you have?” he said, as if he were talking to a child.
Her mind was racing. Should she lie and say she had lots? Surely he wouldn’t want to spend any more time with her once he knew how absolutely deficient she was.
“Some,” she said at length.
The corner of his delicious mouth curved up. “Care to elaborate?”
“Um.” Oh, God, this is it. He’s going to tell me to go back to the party and find some suave, glamorous girl to talk to instead.
“For instance, have you ever been spanked?”
What does that have to do with anything? “Oh yes,” she said, nodding for emphasis. “Lots.”
“And do you enjoy it?”
She could actually feel her eyes widen. “Why would anyone enjoy it?”
Zainon let out a great roar of laughter. “I don’t often say this to people… but you fascinate me. That was too funny.”
Ella was silent, her heart racing, wishing she hadn’t worn the corset. Breathing was becoming more and more difficult. Not to mention, she had no idea what she’d said that was so amusing.
“So…” He reached out and stroked her knee, sending shivers of delight through her very core. “Do you want to play?”
“Sure.” Anything to prolong her time with him.
“I was so hoping you would say that. You’re so very, very sexy, Ella doll.”
The heat prickled across her face and she hoped it wasn’t very noticeable in the dim room. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Shall we say your safeword is red?”
He looked so handsome, so self-assured, and she was desperate not to betray her naiveté. So even though she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, she nodded, hoping it was the right response.
“Good girl.”
Another shiver went through her at his words, though she wasn’t sure why.
“Shall we start with a spanking, then?”
Ella was startled out of her reverie. “What? Why? What have I done wrong?”
Zainon’s bark of laughter reverberated the sofa. “Oh baby, you’ve got to stop doing this now or I won’t be able to concentrate.” He took a deep breath, apparently composing himself. When he looked at her again, his whole expression had changed. There was a darkness, a stillness to it which took her breath away. “Bend over the arm of this couch and raise your skirt,” he said in a chilling tone.
Still she hesitated, gawking at him in amazement. What had changed? What had she done wrong? Why was he going to spank her?
“Now!” he barked, in a tone which brooked no nonsense.
Desperate to please him, she leapt up, her breathing shallow, her heart hammering against her ribs. “A-all right,” she stammered.
“The correct answer is ‘Yes, Sir,’“ he said sternly.
“Y-yes S-sir.” With trembling fingers, she pushed up the miniskirt and leaned over the arm of the sofa. Her head was almost in Zainon’s lap and another wave of hot shame flooded her cheeks.
For an interminable length of time, he simply sat there, his jean-clad thigh so close to her head it was almost touching her hair, and she waited, hardly daring to breathe.
Then, at last, he got up and moved behind her.
“Are you owned?” he said suddenly.
Ella was finding it difficult to concentrate as he was running a single fingertip down over her buttock. “I—what?”
“I see faded marks here. Do you belong to anyone?”
Only my stepmother. Somehow sensing that wasn’t what he meant, she shook her head. “No. I mean, no, Sir.”
“So who spanked you last?”
“Nathan.”
“And who is he?”
“My stepbrother,” she whispered.
“But he doesn’t own you?”
Despite herself, she let out a faint giggle. “No, Sir. Definitely not.”
“Very well. Then let us begin. Remember your safeword.”
As Zainon’s nimble fingers dug into the waistband of her panties and began to draw them down her legs, Ella’s trembling increased until she was clutching the arm of the sofa so hard her knuckles ached from the strain.
But it wasn’t fear. Well, not just.
I’m excited, she realized with a start, once again focusing on that pulsating, aching spot between her thighs as a rush of cool air swept over the now bare flesh.
The whole situation was so bizarre, so surreal, and yet despite her shame, her nerves, and her dire lack of understanding as to why he was about to spank her, it all somehow felt right.
In an anonymous warehouse, bending over the arm of a couch in a back room, her skirt rucked up around her waist and having her last vestige of modesty removed by this mysterious, saturnine, gorgeous man, Ella realized she didn’t want to be anywhere else.
Smack! She jumped at the first slap of his palm against her bare ass but it didn’t really hurt. It was nothing compared to what she was used to. Nor was the second, or the third…
In fact, as Zainon began to spank her in a steady rhythm, alternating swats, she closed her eyes and began to relish it. Every time his broad hand met her naked flesh, that delicious ache between her legs grew more acute, until she was arching her back, thrusting her ass out, desperate for more.
‘And do you enjoy it?’ Zainon’s question returned to her mind and she realized what he had meant. Ella was enjoying it. More than she ever could have believed possible. She couldn’t understand why, and she didn’t want to think about it. Not now. She just wanted to experience, to enjoy. To surrender.
This petite blonde girl was an enigma, Zainon thought as he peppered her gorgeous behind with smacks until the skin began to take on a slightly rosy hue. And she was tough, too, as she wasn’t giving any kind of sign that there was any discomfort.
Yet. But then, I enjoy a challenge. Reassured that there had already been fading bruises on her backside before he’d even begun, he felt able to increase the strength of his swats—and did so—until he was spanking her hard and fast.
Still she remained silent. Still she pushed back as if begging for more. That tiny arch of her back and the way her breath came in short little gasps were the only signs that she was even feeling anything.
And it definitely wasn’t pain.
Her size and meek demeanor, the way she didn’t argue or mouth off, all combined to feed the sadistic streak he was always so careful to suppress.
He wanted to hurt her. He wanted make her cry out.
After several swats to the backs of her thighs—which she also took without a murmur—he paused and undid his belt. As he slid the leather from the loops on his jeans, he feasted his eyes on her formerly pale flesh and the glistening between her thighs. It was truly a breathtaking sight, and he couldn’t wait to sink deep inside that secret, hot, wet place…
But not yet. First, he would unleash a little more of the beast within. It was partly curiosity—she was so damn obedient. And there was something else, too; this girl was appealing to his dark side more than any he had encountered in a while.
/> Folding his belt in half, he gripped the buckle and the end firmly and raised his arm. “Do you like leather?” he said, not giving her even a second to answer before he slashed it down across both her ass cheeks.
“I like you,” she whispered, not giving so much as a hiss of pain.
He whipped her again, harder.
Then again, where her buttocks met her thighs.
Still nothing. Christ, the girl was as infuriating as she was mysterious.
“Spread your thighs,” he barked, astounded when she did so without hesitation.
It had been a while since Zainon had been able to play hard and he savored the old familiar rush as he raised the belt again, assessing his target, wondering how far he could push her. Wondering how far he had to go before she’d even show the slightest bit of pain.
Over and over again he brought the folded leather down over her butt, her thighs, each stroke a little harder than the last… and still Ella arched her back, presenting herself perfectly, her thighs spread, her pink, glistening sex winking invitingly at him.
I must be dreaming. This girl is unreal.
For a moment, he paused, considering. Then, making up his mind, he slapped the leather up between her legs. It landed with a satisfying thwack against her most sensitive spot.
The reaction was immediate. Ella went up onto her tiptoes with a strangled half sob, half moan.
He gave a dark chuckle. “I see you felt that one.”
“Oh yes, Sir,” she whispered, slipping back into position immediately.
Well, fuck.
His cock was so hard it was straining against his zipper and with every second that passed, Zainon had to fight harder to maintain self-control. To bite back the animal side of him which wanted to grab her and make her scream. To make her his.
Reaching between her legs, he was unsurprised to find her wet. At first he stroked her gently, like a lover would, exploring her puffy folds… until he found her clit.
Ella arched up and gave a low moan, which turned into a shriek as he trapped that ultra-sensitive nub of flesh between his fingernails and pinched. Hard.
She was dripping into his palm and he smiled to himself. Not only was this girl stunning to look at, she was obviously a real pain slut as well. And they were hard to come by. In his experience, girls pretended to like anything he wanted them to, just to be near him. And while Ella was most definitely a fan—otherwise she wouldn’t have been at the concert—she was also most definitely enjoying the pain he was inflicting on her.
He decided to ramp it up a notch. Let’s see how genuine she is…
“You want more?” he growled.
Another sob. “Yes, Sir.”
“Ask me for it.”
“Please give me more, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
He brought the belt up between her thighs again, gratified both at the wet slapping noise it made and the way she squealed.
“Again?”
“If you like, Sir,” came the quiet response.
The third stroke against her most sensitive place was the hardest yet, and Zainon relished the thrill he felt at the way Ella quivered and hissed when the leather landed.
“Such a good girl,” he breathed, sliding his hand over her moist sex, caressing the sting from the tormented flesh. “You’re so fucking wet. You like this, don’t you? You like it when I hurt you.”
There was a pause. Then, “Yes, Sir.”
“I can tell. You’re absolutely soaked. How about this? Do you like this?” He let his finger circle her clit, which was already rigid.
She let out a raw groan. “Oh, yes…”
“You want me to make you come, Ella doll?”
Her only response was a whimper as he began to stroke her faster, with more urgency.
“I asked you a question!” He slapped her pussy, hard, and Ella gave a little mewl of surprise.
“Sorry, Sir! I… I mean, yes, please.”
“That’s better.” As he once more found her straining nub, Zainon forced himself to carefully consider the situation he was in. While this delectable blonde quivered and strained under his masterful, teasing fingertip, he thought about how effortlessly she was feeding his inner beast and how desperate he was to give in to that and see how far he could take it.
Something about her was different. Not just her meek acquiescence, or the way she actually genuinely enjoyed the pain—it was something else, as well. She didn’t seem the type to have many friends to gossip to. In fact, his gut instinct told him she didn’t have any friends at all. Are you all alone in this world, Ella doll? Why do I get the feeling that you are? And what’s more, why do I care so much?
She was getting close, her thighs were trembling and her body was growing ever more tense. Behind her, knowing that she couldn’t see it, Zainon grinned wolfishly.
“Not yet,” he said curtly, removing his hand only to deliver a few stinging spanks to refresh the sting in her buttocks. Surely that will get her to protest?
But Ella remained still, the only sign of her disappointment or frustration was a little sigh.
Zainon reached down and grabbed her soft, blonde hair, wrapping it around his fist and yanking her up until she was standing with her back to him. She was so close he could feel the heat from her skin and he inhaled her scent; soap and cheap perfume with the underlying, musky odor of her arousal.
His cock pulsed as he pictured himself taking her to a fancy department store and picking out the right perfume for her. One she would only wear for him. An expensive one. A scent which suited her—which reflected both her angelic behavior and the way she spread her legs for him like a good little slut. He’d buy it for her and she’d kiss and thank him… and then he’d take her home and make her bleed and scream his name.
Where the hell did that little fantasy come from? Unwilling to dwell on it, he bent his head, slipped her ringlets aside, and sank his teeth into the curve where her neck met her shoulder. Hard.
Ella groaned and arched up against him, the crest of her bare ass grinding tantalizingly against the crotch of his jeans, her little hands reaching back to touch his thighs.
“Did I say you could touch me?” he growled, pushing her hands away and taking a step back so he could undo the laces on her corset, swearing as he fumbled with the knot.
“Sorry. Um, Sir?” she said hesitantly.
“Yes?” The spot where his teeth had sunk into her pale skin was turning a deep, livid red. His dick was chafing now—he needed to get her naked, and fast.
“It opens from the front, too. There are these snaps—”
She’d barely finished speaking before he spun her around and unhooked the clasps, desperate to see whether her breasts were as perfect as the rest of her. As the black, lace-embroidered satin fell away, he reached out in wonder, fingering one perfect pink nipple. “Beautiful,” he breathed. His fingers tightened on the dusky bud, twisting cruelly as he watched her big, blue eyes widen at the pain.
In his experience, most girls squealed, trying to writhe away from the sharp ache, but Ella merely took her plump lower lip between her perfect white teeth and bit down, inhaling deeply.
Is this all an act? Was she just pretending to be all shy and inexperienced? He held her gaze, watching her pupils dilate as she looked deep into his eyes. Still his fingers pinched and twisted her nipple, tugging it a little harder just to see her eyes grow darker with—what? Pain? Desire? Both?
“Shhh,” he whispered, “just a little more. You can take it.”
Her pink tongue darted out to wet the lip she’d just bitten but otherwise she didn’t move, not even when he dug his fingernails into her sensitive flesh.
Zainon almost groaned aloud. Letting go of her nipple, he palmed her soft, springy breast instead. It was a perfect handful—they both were.
To shake her out of her strange reverie (and because he wanted to) he slapped her left breast, feeling the turgid nipple bounce against his palm as he did so.
; “Christ,” his voice was a husky croak, “if you were mine, the things I’d do to you—”
“I’m yours,” she interrupted with a whisper. “If you want me.”
“I don’t know what it is about you but you just… fuck, you’ve gotten under my skin.” Before she could respond, he pulled her roughly to him and crushed his mouth to hers, his tongue delving between her soft lips and kissing her with all the hunger he felt for this unique, exquisite girl.
Hesitant at first, she soon yielded, clinging to him like a limpet, gasping against his lips as he all but bruised her with his passion. He could feel her perky breasts pressing against his t-shirt; her erect little nipples a stark contrast to the otherwise soft mounds.
She felt so good, tasted so sweet, it was all just so… right.
He never wanted to let her go.
Zainon Matthews, rock star, multi-platinum recording artist and renowned womanizer, had never felt anything like this before. And he didn’t want it to end.
He wanted to keep her.
But first, he wanted to take her. Still kissing her, he tugged her skirt down over her hips until it fell to puddle around her feet, then he picked her up, carried her over to the sofa and threw her down on it.
There was a flicker of something which looked like panic in her face but he was in such a hurry to snatch the condom from his pocket before shucking off his shirt and jeans, he didn’t dwell on it. By the time he was standing over her, naked and rolling on the sheath, there was nothing but lust and obedience in her beautiful wide eyes.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he said, “provided I have your consent.” It wasn’t the most romantic thing in the world but he always made a point of asking the question directly, if only to reassure himself.
Ella remained silent, lying naked on the couch, gazing up at him.
“I’m waiting for an answer, little girl,” he said, resisting the urge to grip his achingly rigid cock.
“I’m yours,” she said simply.
Chapter Five