by Lila Dubois
Win frantically shook her head.
“No, you don’t think you should be allowed to come?”
Wait, that wasn’t what she’d meant. She shook her head again.
“Very well, if that’s what you want, princess. You are not allowed to come.” His voice was calm, almost regretful, while his fingers danced over her clit.
Win wanted to shake her head again, to indicate in some way that she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from coming—she was too aroused—but he pinched her clit, letting it slide from between the pressure of his fingertips, and the new, unfamiliar sensation sent electrical arcs of pleasure through her body.
“Please,” she gasped, a moment too late. His fingers danced over her clit once again and she came—it was an orgasm unlike any she’d had before. Quick and hot, like a piece of flash paper igniting. For a moment her whole body was suffused with warm pleasure. In the next it was gone, and she found herself bent at the waist, her hands no longer up, but instead braced on Edward’s shoulders.
He stroked her pussy, almost as if he were petting her, carefully avoiding her sensitive clit, but not giving her any respite from his touch.
The hand not touching her so intimately pulled the blindfold down, so it dangled around her neck.
She stared down at him, shocked by the suddenness of her orgasm. Edward looked up at her, his brown eyes cool. As he spoke to her his fingers never stopped stroking and tugging. Never letting her forget that she was his toy, his plaything…
…his princess.
“You came without permission.”
She opened her mouth, but closed it when he raised a brow. She pressed her lips together.
“You need to be punished, don’t you, princess?”
Win shook her head.
“Oh, I think you do. Nothing too hard, since it’s your first time.”
The words should have been reassuring, but his wicked smile was anything but. His finger circled her clit. Win jumped and whimpered.
“Sensitive?”
She nodded.
“Good, that will make it all the more fun to punish you. Now, you have one minute to go to the bathroom. If you use the toilet, make sure you wipe from the back, and don’t touch your clit.”
With that he rolled to his feet, in a smooth athletic move. He looked at the fingers that had been in her pussy, then licked them. “Tick tock, princess.”
Win raced for the bathroom, using the toilet then undoing her bun, which had come half down. She could re-do it, but it would take longer than a minute. She didn’t want to push this whole punishment issue, not until she knew if she’d enjoy it.
She did a quick finger-comb of her hair, which was wavy because of the bun. She rarely wore it down—her hair was thick and long, falling nearly to her waist in the back, and covering her breasts in the front.
Giving her head one final shake she stepped out of the bathroom, ready to face her punishment.
4
Edward sucked in his breath when she emerged from the bathroom.
My god, she is beautiful.
Her hair was down, falling around her like a shawl of dark silk. After having only seen her with her hair confined in some way, first in a braid, since then in various updos, the sight of her loose hair was unexpectedly intimate. He had a feeling very few people saw her like this—naked, hair loose, flush with the last vestiges of pleasure, her nipples hard and pink, her pussy lips bare and glistening with her arousal.
For a moment he felt like the barbarian king, looking at his war-prize bride, who was now as savage as he, stripped of her finery.
His princess.
The temptation to say fuck it, lead her to the bed, and make love to her was nearly overpowering. He wanted this woman, more than he wanted the scene. That was new and rather alarming.
Edward sat in the straight-back desk chair he’d moved into the middle of the room and patted his thigh.
A shiver worked its way down her body, and she lowered her gaze to the floor. Tentative steps brought her closer to him, and when she was in arm’s reach she stopped.
“Across my lap for your spanking,” he told her. “And you may speak.”
“Thank you, Sir,” was her soft reply.
She came around to the side of the chair, then rested her waist on one of his legs, her breasts pressing against his other thigh. He spread his knees, so the front of her shoulders rested on his other leg, her breasts dangling between his thighs.
The long smooth line of her back was bare before him, her ass on his right. She had her knees pressed together, her toes curled into the plush carpet. Next time he’d pull her further onto his lap, so he’d have a better view of her ass while he spanked her, but for her first spanking this was an easy position to hold. He helped her get her arms in position, one gripping his calf, the other hugging his thigh from below. He knew she’d need something to hold on to.
If he were a different kind of Dom, he would have planned a light spanking, merely ten swats or so, but he wasn’t that kind of Dom. He wanted to know what she could take, what she would enjoy. He wanted her to understand what it was to submit. There were only a few activities that could make a woman understand that—a spanking being his favorite.
“I’m ready to start your spanking.” He rubbed her ass with his palm. “What’s your safe word?”
“Lemon.”
“Good.” He raised his hand.
“Wait, please. What if….what if I want you to slow down, or stop the spanking, but not end the night all together?”
Ah, there it was, topping from the bottom.
“That’s not your decision to make.” His voice was firm, but not angry.
“But, how will you know if it’s too much? I’ve never…”
“Trust, princess. You have to trust me.”
“I barely know you,” she whispered, sounding desperate.
“Yet you’re naked over my lap, about to be spanked for orgasming without permission.”
She whimpered. He brushed her hair to the side, cupping her cheek and turning her face so he could see her profile.
“What are you scared of?”
“The spanking.”
“But what are you scared of? The physical pain?”
“Yes.”
“Really? You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who would be afraid of a little momentary stinging and ache.”
“But I am afraid.”
“I can’t know for sure, but I wonder if you’re afraid of not being in control.”
“I’m already not in control.”
“Maybe.” He released her cheek and gathered all that glorious hair in his hand. “But not having control while getting fingered, which is inherently pleasurable, is very different than not having control and facing a punishment.” He pulled her hair, forcing her head up.
She gasped, then shuddered in acquiescence. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good, princess. Very good.” He released her hair, and she let her head fall.
He laid his left hand on the small of her back, holding her firmly against his right thigh. He raised his right hand and brought it down on her ass in a firm spank.
She jerked, but didn’t cry out. He studied her skin, but there was no mark. He spanked her again, then kept going, laying ten swats in relatively quick succession. When he was finished, she was breathing heavily, but was relaxed against him.
It was time to take this from slap and tickle territory to a proper BDSM spanking. He spanked her again, harder this time, using his palm instead of his fingers.
“Ouch,” she yelped.
“Good. It’s mean to hurt. It’s punishment.”
“But I’m not a masochist.”
Edward spanked her again, just as hard. “Stop trying to control this.”
“I’m not, I’m not.”
“You are. You’re scared, this isn’t easy pleasure, so you’re trying to stop it. Control it.”
He raised his arm and spanked her again and again,
covering her whole ass, from the center down to the tops of her thighs. After twenty swats her legs started to jump and kick and she let out the first soft cry.
He paused, rubbing her hot, pink skin with his stinging palm. “I’m not done, princess, just giving you a little time to think, to feel.”
“Not done?”
“No.”
“When will you be?”
“When I’m done. When I want to stop. When I’ve given you everything you need.”
“What I need?”
“Yes.” He remembered what Anderson had said. “Don’t fight the feelings. Give in to them—sink into it.”
“I don’t understand.”
Edward resumed the spanking, each swat lighter than it had been, but she’d feel it more due to the state of her ass. As he did he spoke to her, trying to help her find the peace that some subs could achieve through a good punishment. Maybe it wouldn’t be that way for her, and that was fine, but he had a feeling that if he could get her to let go, she’d be able to sink into the scene, and her submission. He wanted to give that to her, wanted to see the softness of acceptance on her face.
“Don’t fight me,” he murmured. “Feel the heat of the spanking. Let that heat spread over you. Don’t worry about when it will stop. Trust me to know what you need.”
Spank, spank, spank.
“Everything that’s hard, that makes you worry, let the heat burn it away.”
Spank, spank, spank.
“There is nothing you can do, nothing you need to do right now. You’re mine now.”
He felt the moment it clicked, felt the moment she gave in to it. Her legs, tensed and braced, went limp. The hand digging into his calf loosened, the fingers no longer digging in with desperation.
“That’s it,” he praised her. “Well done, princess.”
He softened the spanking even more, concentrating on the hypersensitive sit spot for a minute before he started to wind the spanking down.
As he finished, he praised her. “You did beautifully. You accepted that so well. Well done, princess.”
He slid his arms under her waist and lifted her, pulling her onto his lap so she was straddling him, her red bottom suspended between his spread knees.
Her face was wet with tears, and she looked at him with a heartbreakingly lost expression. Edward tucked her hair behind her ears and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “How do you feel?”
“Calm,” she whispered. Slowly, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, her arms folded up tight between their chests. He reached between them, tugging her arms out of the way, and stopping her from adopting the closed posture that might counteract the effects of the spanking.
She didn’t say anything when he drew her arms behind her back, then tugged the narrow scarf from around her neck, using that to bind her hands with a few simple figure-eight loops and a single knot. It was just tight enough that she could relax her arms and the bondage would keep her wrists in place behind her.
With that done he settled her more firmly on his lap and held her, stroking her sides, her thighs, as he repeated the praise from earlier. “You did beautifully. You accepted that so well. Well done, princess.”
She nestled her face against his neck and relaxed.
Edward’s heart clenched. He was no novice Dom, and was a firm proponent of aftercare, but holding a sub after a scene had never made him feel like this before. He wrapped his arms around her, and turned his face into her hair.
5
Win stared down at the toilet, considered her throbbing ass, and then decided she didn’t have to pee that badly. She washed her hands and face, removing the last of her smeared makeup with a washcloth. So much for waterproof eyeliner.
She didn’t think she could feel any more vulnerable than she already did—she was naked, hair uncharacteristically down—but now her face was bare of even the small amount of makeup she’d worn.
He’d given her permission to use the restroom again. There wasn’t a bath towel in the small, elegant half bath. If there had been she might have been tempted to wrap it around herself, just to claim back some sense of control.
Control.
“Princess, are you all right?”
His deep voice brought back the vivid memory of being facedown over his lap, ass on fire as he spanked her, his deep voice urging her to let go, to stop fighting. She had, and felt something totally unexpected, in the midst of the physical pain of the spanking—release. Not a sexual release, but an emotional one.
She opened the door, using her hair to help shield some of her nakedness.
Edward stood there, one arm raised, forearm resting on the door jam. His dark eyes took in every inch of her. His free hand brushed her hair behind her, exposing her nakedness once more.
“It’s only eight,” he told her. “You’re mine for another two hours.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Come.” He held out his hand. She placed hers in it.
He led her to the couch, taking a seat on it. She stood awkwardly in front of him, not sure what to do.
Edward pointed at the carpet between his feet.
Win sank down on to her knees. Forgetting the state of her ass, she sat back on her heels, then yelped, grabbing ahold of Edward’s thighs, and straightened.
“How do you feel?”
“Physically or emotionally?” she asked.
“Let’s start with physically.”
“My bottom hurts.”
His smile was impish. “I can’t imagine why.”
Win rolled her eyes even as she smiled.
“Had you ever been spanked before?”
“No.”
“No, Sir,” he corrected gently.
“No, Sir,” she repeated, lowering her gaze to his chin.
“You’re wonderfully, naturally submissive.” He stroked her face.
Her hair whipped around as she shook her head. “I’m not, though. Not really.”
“Oh?”
“I’m soft-spoken, I know that, but most people realize, quickly, that I’m not a pushover.”
“Being submissive and being a pushover aren’t the same thing.”
“I know that.” She sighed. “I thought I knew that. But I’m not sure anymore. That wasn’t…wasn’t what I expected.”
“The spanking?”
“Not just the physical spanking, but how it made me feel. The spanking part hurt. I had guessed that it would.” He laughed a little at her wry comment. “But I liked it. I liked how it made me feel.” She paused, then added, “I didn’t know I’d start crying.”
His knuckles grazed her cheek. “Emotionally. How are you emotionally?”
“I’m…feeling sort of raw, but at the same time floaty. I don’t have a better way to describe it right now.”
“That’s okay, as long as you’re not scared, or ashamed.”
“No, I’m not scared or ashamed.”
His thumb brushed her lips, then pressed between them, hooking over her teeth in a casually controlling hold. She licked the tip of his thumb and he smiled at her.
“It would be easy to end it now,” he told her. “To order some food and engage in some extended aftercare, but I want more.” His removed his thumb from her mouth and his gaze darkened even as his voice lowered, becoming more intense. “I want to play with you more—suck your nipples, tease your clit—and make you come again and again. I want to fuck you while your ass is plugged, taste your sweet pussy with my tongue.”
The heavy, aching feeling the spanking had left her with transformed into the burning heat of arousal.
“I want that too,” she whispered.
“I want to put a plug in you, but I’ll give you a bit more time. Don’t look so disappointed. Until then, how about some nipple play?”
Win nodded enthusiastically, which made him grin.
Edward helped her rise from her knees, then he stood and moved the tray off the couch. He then took a folded throw off the back of one of th
e chairs and spread it over the ottoman. “This is a sex blanket. Soft on the outside, but with absorbing material inside to protect the furniture.”
“The hotel had this?” Win looked around, wondering if this was secretly one of those bondage themed hotels.
“No, I brought this from home. There are hotels that cater to people in the BDSM lifestyle.”
“I’ve heard about them.”
“Oh?”
“One of those listicles, about interesting hotels. There was one that was bondage-themed, in Amsterdam.”
“I know which one you’re talking about. Would you like to go there someday?”
“I’d like to go anywhere.” The words slipped out before she had time to think about what she was saying, or, more specifically, to whom she was saying them.
Edward stopped to look at her, his gaze sharp and probing. “You don’t travel?”
“I’ve been to Florida. For a work conference.”
“You’ve never been outside the US?”
Win held up her hand. “Please don’t.”
“Don’t ask personal questions? That’s fair.”
“No, please don’t remind me how different we are.”
Edward looked taken aback. “What does that mean?”
Win realized that while she knew a lot about him, he didn’t know anything about her. He didn’t know how woefully different their lives had been. She shook her head and didn’t reply. Silence stretched between them, empty and terrible. If he was trying to wait her out, to use the silence to make her talk, he would have a long wait. She was comfortable with silence, and she knew how to use it when questioning someone.
When he spoke again, his voice was hard, laced with what might have been a hint of anger. “Hands and knees, on the ottoman.”
“Yes, Sir.”
His tension lessened when she obeyed instantly, climbing onto the ottoman and positioning herself on her hands and knees. The blanket he’d laid down had a soft, velvety texture.