by Cathryn Cade
“No.” Her mother didn’t believe in corporal punishment, and her father had never been around long enough.
He stroked her again. “I care about you,” he said. “A lot. Enough that when we’re at the club, anytime you misbehave, you get a spanking—how hard depends on how badly you act out. You act sweet, you get rewarded. Right?”
She might be twisted, but warmth spilled through her at his words. This spanking didn’t mean she wasn’t the woman he wanted, wasn’t enough for him. It meant that he cared enough to pay attention to what she said and did, cared enough to follow through. Consistently and firmly. And she could take his spankings—especially when she knew they meant he was focused on her. And he wasn’t using a paddle, as he’d threatened.
“Yes, Trace.”
“Good girl. Here we go.”
The first hard slap landed on the fullest part of her ass. It stung, and she flinched. But almost immediately, the sting faded. This wasn’t any worse than before. The next landed on her other cheek. Great, a matched set. But it was Trace, caring for her.
His palm firmer on the small of her back, he smacked her again before the sting had time to settle, and again and again. When his hard palm landed on a spot he’d already spanked, Sara recoiled, a breathy whimper emerging from her throat. That was new.
Trace paused a fraction of a second and then smacked her twice more in the same place in swift succession—hard. Tears sprang into her eyes, but Sara widened her eyes, refusing to let them fall. She could do this—for him, even though the tender skin of her bottom was on fire, throbbing like a shallow burn.
But then he smacked her again and again. A sob burst from her throat, hot tears welling up.
“Hang on,” he said. “Almost done.”
Four more hard spanks, and Sara was crying, not quietly and not caring if he could hear, emotion bubbling up and releasing.
“Shh,” he soothed, bracketing her hips with his warm hands. “All done. You did well. Proud of you.”
Sara sniffled and wiped her wet eyes with the back of her hand. “Y-yes, Trace.”
But when she would have straightened, he stopped her, his hand pressing down. “No, not yet. Best thing about this position for my little sub, I can check the effect of my discipline.”
She yelped with shock as he stroked her stinging cheek and down into the seam of her labia, his fingers sliding in her wetness. He thrust two fingers into her easily.
“You’re wet,” he said.
Since he demonstrated this by sliding his fingers in and out several more times, Sara could hardly argue. The succulent sound was clearly audible in the quiet room. Not that she wanted to argue—she held very still, afraid he’d stop what he was doing. It was in such sharp contrast to the spanking, the pleasure was shockingly sweet.
Her bottom stung, but her pussy ached in quite a different way. Each stroke of his fingers lifted her closer to orgasm.
He stopped what he was doing, his voice hard. “You need more spanking, Red?”
Oh no, she’d forgotten to answer him. “No, Trace. I’m sorry.”
“I think you do,” he said. He smacked her, four swift, light slaps on the backs of her thighs. Then he stopped and thrust his fingers into her again. Sara moaned at the sheer pleasure of the soft caress even while her skin still stung.
Smack, smack, this time on her labia, making her flinch and whimper again. Then his fingers in her pussy, this time three, fast and ruthless. Her pussy contracted around his rough intrusion, and she writhed.
“Stay still,” he warned. “Or I won’t let you come.”
“Yes, Trace.” She braced her fingertips on the floor in front of her and let her head hang, her breathing ragged, aware of nothing but the man standing over her, and what he was doing.
Two more smacks, on the already tender skin of her bottom.
This time, instead of penetrating her, he found her clitoris with his fingertip and rubbed, fast and light.
“Come for me, Red,” he ordered.
And she did, hanging on his fingertip as pleasure spun out from that tiny spot and seized her, body spasming with pleasure. She screamed.
Then, loose from the contractions, she staggered, and Trace wrapped one long, powerful arm under her middle and lowered her carefully to the carpet. She collapsed onto her knees, her upper body folding down so that her head was on the carpet, her hands curled limp at her sides.
Trace knelt behind her, curling his much larger body over hers, and held her. “That was beautiful, honey,” he whispered roughly. “So sweet.”
Sara hmmed an answer in her throat, too enthralled with his warm, safe embrace to form words.
After a few moments, Trace rose to one knee and gathered her into his arms, lifting her up to carry her to the bed, where he laid her against the pillows. Sara winced as the fabric rubbed her tender bottom, and opened her eyes. She felt warm and treasured, but at the same time chilled without Trace’s arms around her.
Trace was undressing, unbuttoning his black shirt, his gaze on her. “Sore?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yes. I mean yes, Trace.”
He winked at her. “Good. Remember why I spanked you?”
He pulled his shirt open and off. His torso was so beautiful, long and lean, with the tapering muscles of a Greek athlete immortalized in marble.
“Because I was, um, bad?” She drew her tongue over her lower lip, admiring the hard swell of his chest, crowned by the small, brown coins of his nipples. She wondered if he would let her taste them.
Then she gasped as he leaned forward, bracing his arms on either side of her, his face close to hers. “Sara. Focus. You can do better than that.”
She swallowed, gazing up into his adamant brown eyes. “Because…I made a face at you. And I didn’t do as you asked right away.”
He bent farther to brush a light kiss over her lips. “That’s right. When we’re at home or somewhere else, I’ll accept a little of that. But when you’re here, you’re in my world. Now, am I gonna have to spank you again tonight?”
She shook her head vehemently. “No, Trace.”
He was smiling as he straightened, hands already working to unfasten his black slacks. “Good, ’cause I’d much rather fuck your sweet little cunt. Dripping cream for me, aren’t you?”
She moved, arousal zinging through her again. “Yes, Trace.”
“Show me.” He dropped his slacks and stepped out of them, then put one knee on the bed, palming his cock. “Use your fingers. Dip them in there, and show me how wet you are. Open your legs so I can see.”
Slowly, Sara let her knees fall open. Then she reached down and cupped her mons. Her own touch and his gaze watching every move excited her even more. She stroked her fingers deeper, into her swollen labia, the heat of his gaze creating that storm inside her that was nearly an orgasm.
“Deeper,” he ordered, stroking his cock as he watched her. His face was taut, his nostrils flared, eyes heavy, his mouth set in a sensuous curve. “Good. Now open yourself for me. Open that pussy for your dom.”
Sara sucked in a deep breath, doing as he ordered, and then waited with her heart thumping, her pussy quivering with need as he knelt between her thighs, his thighs hard and dusted with hair. He loomed over her, his broad shoulders blotting out the light, his hair limned with gold in the lamplight, his face in shadow.
“Whose are you, Sara?” he asked. “Who do you and your pussy belong to?”
“I’m yours, Trace,” she said, her voice trembling as hard as her body. She whimpered, unable to contain her need. “My pussy and I belong to you.”
“Yes, you do. You want me to fuck you? Ask me sweet.”
“Please—fuck me,” she begged, holding herself open for him, her pussy contracting as his gaze swept her. “Please, Trace.”
“You gonna take it?” His voice was hoarse, and he pressed closer, his cock slapping against the back of her wrists. “How do you want it?”
She nodded. “Yes, Trace. I want it howev
er you want to give it to me.”
With a low growl that emanated from his chest, he came down over her, watching as he guided his cock between her hands, and into her plump, drenched folds. Then he thrust, forging deep inside her. So deep Sara cried out in shock and discomfort. But also in relief as engorged tissues closed around his girth instead of mere emptiness.
Trace froze, braced on his arms, his body shaking. “Did I hurt you?” he demanded.
“No, not really.” She moved under him, moaning as nerves zinged deep inside. “No. Oh God. Trace, please—I need…”
He dropped to his elbows, his face close to hers. “You need me to fuck you. Need me to fuck this tight little pussy until you come again. Wanna feel you squeeze my cock, honey. Squeeze it hard. Now.”
Sara contracted her muscles around him, and both of them moaned. “That’s right,” he praised. “Now keep doing that, until you come. I want you to come fast and hard. You hear me?”
“I hear you, Trace.” She contracted once more as he pulled back and thrust deep inside her again. The combination was incredible.
“I’m coming,” she whimpered as the rasp of his cock inside her sent pleasure imploding through her, so hard and sweet she trembled in his grasp. “Trace.”
“You’re coming.” He turned his face against hers, his mouth next to her ear. “Coming for me. For me.”
His thrusts lengthened, deepened, and then he shuddered deeply and groaned. Heat flooded her, deep inside. He muttered something unintelligible, and his strokes slowed, although he continued to move in her for a long, lazy moment.
Finally he relaxed, a hot, heavy weight on her. “Too heavy?” he muttered.
Her breasts were flattened under his chest, and her breath was shallow by necessity, but Sara slipped her arms up around his back and held on. “Hmm-mm. Stay.”
His thumb moved, caressing her cheek. “Just for a sec.”
Sara nestled close. This moment was sweet but odd. They weren’t in her bed or his; they were at his club in a room that had been used by many others. By him and other women.
She quashed the ugly surge of jealousy this realization sparked. Tonight she was with him. He was her dom, and he was caring for her.
“What’s going through that head of yours?” he asked, his hand stroking over her hip.
Completely unwilling to talk about their status, Sara blurted the first question that came to mind. “Why do you like your, um, subs to…to do that?” she asked. “You know, bending over.”
“Called presenting,” he said. “So when I tell you to present, next time you’ll know, hmm?”
“Hmm,” she echoed, squirming.
He waited. She sighed. “Yes, Trace.”
He patted her hip. “For your information, that’s not something I’ve ever wanted other subs to do.”
She jerked her head up. “You mean to tell me that I’m the only one you make do that? Why?”
He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. “Red, because you’re you. Got the sweetest little ass I’ve ever seen. I like it, I like looking at it, I like touching it, and I like you showing it to me when and how I say. Want to fuck you like that.”
She stared at him. He touched her nose with his fingertip. “It’s not like I have a repertoire of moves I pull out. Some subs know exactly what they want, what they need to get off. I give them that. With you, it’s all new. All sweet. Going to be a lot of fun training you.”
In a swift, powerful move, he rolled onto his back and pulled her up onto him to straddle his groin. He reached up and stroked his fingers through the curling ends of her hair, arranging it around her breasts, and rubbing the backs of his fingers over her nipples.
She liked sitting on him, having his long, strong body under her. She flattened her palms on his torso and smoothed them up over his ribs and the swell of his pecs, into the sparse dark blond curls on his chest.
“You have pretty little breasts too. They’ll look even better with some hardware dangling off of them.”
Sara let go of him, clapping her hands over her breasts. “We need to talk about that. No way in hell are you clamping those—those sharp things on my breasts.”
He gave her a look of disgust. “Jesus, Sara, what kind of sadist do you take me for? Of course nothing sharp. I’d never mark you or hurt you.”
She bit her lip. “Right, sorry. So then, what are you talking about?”
He cupped his hands over her breasts and fondled them, watching her face as he did so. “There are all kinds of nipple jewelry—clamps, screws and more.”
He pinched her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, tightening his grasp slowly as he watched her reaction. “I think you could take a set of light screws. Not sharp, just pressure. With a chain hanging between them, so I can tug.” He tugged on her nipples as he spoke, and sensation just short of pain zinged through her nipples. He did it again, harder. This time it stung, but it still felt good. She dug her fingers into his biceps, and squirmed on him.
“Yeah,” he said with satisfaction. “You like that. I’ll buy some pretty ones so you can wear them under a sheer top for me.”
“So other people can see them?” Oh my God, he was going to drive her crazy, especially if he didn’t stop doing that pinch and twist thing with her nipples. She squirmed on him again, and his cock moved underneath her.
“So other people can see,” he agreed, smiling slowly. “Thanks for the idea, Red. And they’ll know that you’re getting more and more excited, but I’ll make you wait.”
“Wait to come?” She moved again, rubbing her wetness on his shaft trapped underneath her.
He nodded. “But right now, I think we’re both ready. Grab a condom, and put me inside you.”
She did. And she found out that riding Trace, but with him in charge telling her exactly how fast or slow and when she could touch herself, stroking her swollen clitoris while he pinched her nipples, was a reward she was willing to submit for.
When she was ready to come, drunk on the pleasure of possessing his hard shaft in her pussy, he made her stop, his hands gripping her thighs. She gave a mewl of frustration.
“Sit still,” he said quietly. “Monitors are doing their rounds, and I’d bet you’d just as soon no one saw you riding me.”
She froze, her nails digging into his thighs. “I’d just as soon they didn’t see me—us like this either.”
He slapped her thigh, a light sting. “Red, take your claws out of my legs. Damn, you scratch like a cat. You know we have to keep eyes on everyone. I’m not exempt from that, and you shouldn’t want me to be.”
The door opened behind them. “Everyone all right in here?” Mase’s gravelly voice asked, full of amusement.
“We will be, soon as you get your ass out of here and let my sub finish fucking me,” Trace returned in the same tone.
“She’s a pretty one,” Mase said. “He treating you right, Sara?”
Sara wanted nothing more than to burrow down onto Trace’s chest and pretend that if she couldn’t see, neither could the dom behind her. She widened her eyes at Trace, who raised his brows at her in a clear command.
“Yes, thank you,” she bit out, her cheeks burning. At least she didn’t have to face him.
Trace stroked her thigh. “Eyes on Mase when you’re talking to him, sub.”
Sara gazed down at him in disbelief. He raised his brows just as if they weren’t locked together naked on a bed, and waited.
Slowly, Sara turned, and looked over her shoulder at Mase. He waited, his eyes on her face, not her ass. His gaze was warm but as insistent as Trace’s. He was definitely a dom.
“Um, yes, thank you. Mase,” she repeated.
“That’s good,” Mase said. He winked at her. “I’ll let you get back to your ride, then.”
The door closed again, and Sara covered her face with her hands.
“Eyes,” Trace ordered. She dropped her hands with a huff, and he frowned at her. “Sara, when a dom speaks to you, under any circumsta
nces, you will answer and do it sweet, not sharp.”
She bit her lip. “Yes, Trace.” She played with one of his tiny brown nipples, stroking it with her fingertips. “Sorry. I just—that was embarrassing.”
“No, embarrassing would be if I made you finish your ride while Mase watched. Or let him get you off however he wanted, as punishment.”
She gaped at him. “You—you would do that?”
Trace smiled slowly. “Your pussy just squeezed me hard. Now what part of that excited you? Thinking maybe one of those options would count as funishment instead.”
Sara didn’t know, she only knew that she was once more aware that she had a big, aroused cock inside her, and she wanted to ride it, hard and fast.
But it was clear he wasn’t going to allow that until she answered and did so honestly. She petted him again, focusing on the texture of smooth, hot skin and hard muscle that was Trace. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t want Mase, especially, I want you…but… Oh, I don’t know.” What she knew was that Kai’s face had suddenly flashed before her, and the look in his eyes when he told her all about sharing a woman with his college lover.
He patted her hip. “All right. That’s honest. Fuck me, get yourself off on my cock. And use your fingers. I like watching them work your pussy.”
“Yes, Trace.” This time she answered instantly and did as she was told. She was rewarded as her dom’s jaw tightened, his eyes heavy but focused her, his body taut and restrained as a stallion prancing under her, ready to run but letting his rider hold the reins.
“I’m coming,” she moaned.
“I feel it. Sweet Jesus, I feel it.”
His grip tightened on her hips, and he began to buck underneath her, surging up in hard thrusts that deepened her orgasm.
“Trace. Oh my God, Trace.”
When they were both done, she collapsed on his chest. He was damp with sweat, his chest heaving under her with his breaths. He wrapped his arms around her, though, and held her. And that might have been the best part of all.
“I love it when you hold me,” she murmured against his throat.