by Sable Jordan
“What did you think about while you got off?” His fingers trailed down the seam of her pussy, a barely-there touch.
Her belly tingled and she pressed her knees together. “I th-thought about you, Sir.”
A pause. “Did you come?”
A grin. “Oh yeah. Every time.”
“And not even remorseful... So what exactly was I doing that made you come every time?”
“This…fucking me…watching me suck you…”
His cock throbbed against her side, and her pussy clutched. Kizzie had never relished receiving a punishment before, but now she couldn’t wait. As soon as it was over, she’d get to feel him inside her, his weight pressing her to the mattress. She wanted his mouth on hers, wanted to taste him, feel him in her throat.
“If it gets to be too much…?”
“Red, Sir. I’d say red.”
“Thirty-six.” He palmed her ass again. Gentle kneading turned firmer. “What do you do after each one?”
“Count, Sir.”
“And?”
And? She racked her brain but came up blank. “Umm…” His palm tore away, came back and landed with a stinging crack.
“Holy fuuudgeballs!” Kizzie mashed her face against the comforter and grit her teeth.
Xander’s rumbling laugh filled the room. “Wrong answer. Count and thank your Master. Ready?”
“Shouldn’t that count as the first one?”
“Nope. And now I’ve changed my mind…”
Shit. She’d have to remember to stop speaking.
“I’ll keep count. As for you…” Xander whispered instructions that made her face scald. Half a second later, his hand landed again with a hard smack! that shot right through her. She cried out.
“One.”
Kizzie mumbled her response, throat too raw to form the words. Xander pinched the sensitive skin on her inner thigh, and she screamed.
“Don’t play with me,” he ordered, all traces of laughter gone from his voice. “Say it louder.”
“I may not touch Sir’s pussy without His permission!”
“Good.” He spanked her again, called the count and she repeated the line without needing the pinch to grow on.
The assault was unrelenting. He struck her hard and fast, no pattern that she could determine; no way to prep herself. She wriggled and squirmed with the impacts, choking out the words. Her feet lifted after one particularly hard blow, bringing the attack to a halt.
Oh, thank fuck, they were done.
Wait…he’d last said thirteen.
Gah! They were only on thirteen!
Xander shifted so Kizzie was over one leg, his other cinching down on hers to keep her in place. She was well and truly up against his dick now, steel digging into her side and a hard thigh forced into her low belly, angling her ass up a bit more. She couldn’t imagine he would get any power behind the strikes with—
Whap!
Oh hell.
“Fourteen.”
“I may not touch Sir’s pussy without His permission.”
They found the pace again, the strikes coming harder, her ass going numb. Sweat glazed her skin and tears pressed hot behind her eyes. Kizzie grit her teeth through the pain until each shot sent a streak of fire through her body that recoiled and came back a steady vibration in her pussy, and damn but she loved that.
Xander stroked a finger against her cunt, gliding easily up an down the slick seam. “I love that you’re wet for me.” A finger shoved inside and he tsked. “But this wasn’t supposed to turn you on.”
Kizzie whimpered in her throat as a second finger thrust in to join the first. She clenched hard around him, so close to release.
“Want to come, Princess?”
‘Fuck yeah’ would probably get her more spankings. Would more spankings be a bad thing?
“Yes, Sir.”
He worked his fingers through her swollen flesh. Slowly…oh so slowly. She bit her lip and he moved a little faster. “Beg.”
Yeah, right. Like she’d ever—
His thumb mashed her clit.
“Please, Sir. Please may I come, Sir?”
He didn’t answer and she didn’t know if she could hold out much longer. The wet squelch of his busy hand filled the room and Kizzie’s feet started to tingle. She curled her toes in her boots. Her moans came faster, but his hand slowed down. In and out, in and out; steady, deliberate friction.
Kizzie squeezed her eyes shut, so focused on the singular goal of release she forgot to be embarrassed, tried to push back against him. Her voice was whiny, but she was too preoccupied to hate the needy sound. “Please please please, Sir, canIpleasecome? CanIpleasecome?”
“Don’t you dare.”
Kizzie moaned; Xander shoved forward and stayed. But his thumb started working over her clit, sending licks of electricity shooting up her spine and down to her feet.
“Sir.” So close.
Xander pulled out just before she flew apart, swabbed off his sopping fingers on her ass, drew back and struck her again. “Twenty-eight.”
Kizzie groaned. “I,” a gasp, “I…may not touch…” Vibrations started against her belly that had nothing to do with the spankings. With her brain already short-circuited, she lost her train of thought.
“Focus,” he demanded.
She blinked through the fog in her head. “…Touch Sir’s pussy without permission.”
“Whose permission, Kizzie?”
“Yours, Sir.”
And that was it.
She was his.
Through her panting she managed to repeat, “I may not touch…your pussy…without your permission…Sir.”
She let go. However the final blows came she could handle them. But the next strike was delayed. Xander feathered moist fingertips over her searing flesh, the skin so sensitive that his light touch was almost a more torturous punishment.
Another blow, another number.
Kizzie took it, submitting to the pain, meaning the words she’d been told to say. The last smack rocked through her, the last line fell from her lips and she smiled at having gotten through it.
Xander massaged her ass, stroked his other hand across her back. A few adjustments later, Kizzie was on the bed, knees bent and pointing toward the ceiling.
Gentle fingers brushed the long hair out of her face. “How do you feel?”
Her bound wrists dug into the small of her back, tilting her pelvis down and her bottom against the comforter. Even that soft caress made her bruised skin scream. And she was pretty certain she was dripping on the blanket.
“My ass hurts, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Kizzie snarked. She took stock of her body, the way it felt pliant and limber. The way she felt…present. Relaxed but at the same time so on edge and ready to come her teeth hurt. “I feel good, Sir. Thank you.”
Xander removed one of her boots, started working on the other. “And what did you learn?”
The second boot pulled free, her panties still tangled around her ankles. The belt was undone and Kizzie’s knees dropped open, her pussy completely exposed to his view. Xander’s heated gaze fixed to the spot; slowly dragged up to meet hers, waiting for her answer.
A smirk. “You don’t like sharing your toys, Sir.”
Xander’s lids lowered to half-mast, a ghost of a smile on his sensual lips. “You can play with my toys all you want—in fact, I plan to watch you do exactly that later—just not without my permission.” The bed shifted as he climbed up, knees to either side of her feet. He made quick work of his dress and tee shirts, balled them up and tossed them away, and then pressed his hands to the mattress on either side of her head. “I’m very proud of you, Princess.”
Kizzie beamed at the praise. He nuzzled below her ear, feathered kisses and nips down her neck and jaw and she groaned. She needed to touch him, wanted to trace the contours of his body as he drove into her. She wriggled her hands to get them free of the tie but he trailed his tongue up her chin, refocused her attention.<
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“Patience, baby. Let me handle this,” Xander whispered, drawing back to look into her eyes. “You earned your reward. Relax and take it.”
Then his lips were on hers, a firm, hot crush that had Kizzie’s head swimming. His tongue eased into her mouth, tangling with hers in slow, deep, drugging passes.
Hummed satisfaction morphed into a whimper.
Without breaking away, Xander dipped lower, his bare chest skimming her erect nipples as he tasted every inch of her mouth, stole her breath. Kizzie gave as good as she got, teasing his tongue and lips, savoring his rich flavor. Groaning, Xander sucked her lower lip into his hot mouth, lightly scored it with his teeth as he pulled away.
Kizzie gulped down air, her whole body trembling with need. Xander kissed down over her chin, her neck, pecking and licking and suckling his way to her breast. He filled his mouth with the mound and mimicked the performance on her lips, letting it slide out slowly until just the hardened tip remained. A current blazed straight to her clit as Xander trapped the tip in his teeth, alternating between sharp bites and flicking his tongue across the point.
Yes…
Kizzie mewled, rocking her hips beneath him. Her breath was coming fast, blood pounded in her ears. She wanted to scream for him to fuck her already, but if this was the pre-show she might die with the full production. He blew cool breath over the puffy, wet nipple and a delicious chill flooded her body.
“Oh, god, X…”
“X!”
War das ein echo?
Kizzie’s eyes flashed open, finding chocolate orbs that mirrored her surprise.
Two more loud bangs sounded on the room’s outermost door. Her gaze slid in that direction; Xander angled his head the same way.
“X!” The knock came stronger, more insistent and rapid-fire, like someone was trying to bring the door off its hinges.
“Can you fly, sweetheart? I’m about to kill the pilot.”
Kizzie breathed a nervous laugh through her nose. Xander heaved a sigh, dropped an f-bomb, and got to his feet. Brow knit, eyes scanning.
More banging sobered Kizzie right up, clearing the euphoric fog from her head. Phil was out there knocking like a madman, which meant trouble.
Xander located what he’d been searching for—his shirt—and slipped his arms into the sleeves. “Don’t move.”
Kizzie disobeyed immediately, tucking her knees to her chest and stretching her limbs down and around her ass; tucked a little tighter and stretched a bit more to get them up and over her feet. Arms in front again, she hooked the undies at her ankles and straightened her legs to get the lace as close to on as possible.
“Aaand we’re back at twelve,” Xander said, sighing. Kizzie couldn’t help the smile. Sometimes being an agent had its advantages. “Why didn’t you do that from the start?”
“‘Cause you trusted me not to. Guess you’ll have to tie me tighter next time, Sir.”
He grinned. As he spun away, Kizzie reached for the Beretta under her pillow. “Hey.”
Xander had to act fast to catch the weapon she’d tossed to him. “I’m pretty sure it’s just Phil.”
“Shoot him for cockblocking,” she muttered, hands under Xander’s pillow for his SIG.
He headed through the double doors of the bedroom and cautiously approached the door to the suite, gun at his side. Kizzie wiggled the girls back into her bra with her biceps—a move that looked like an inverted funky chicken—as she followed behind him, watching his back, her body still thrumming but weapon at the ready. He checked the peek hole, yanked the door open a second later.
“Something wrong with your phone?” Phil asked gruffly. He pushed past his boss, a purse in his hand. He took in Kizzie’s mussed look with a grin, then stepped aside.
A new character stood in the frame. Female. Short. Slender build. Previously black hair now a garish shade of blue. The round, bright eyes Kizzie remembered were worn and tired.
“Master Duquesne. Please….”
That voice, that tiny little sound. All cotton candy and unicorns.
Ice cold rage drowned out horny and for a moment Kizzie was trapped in Sacha’s dungeon, strung up and left to die. Her shoulder throbbed, ribs ached. The scar on her belly stung with the same intensity it had when it first opened.
Adrenaline spiked, but the calm of a kill stiffened her spine.
She’d made a promise—she kept her promises.
The SIG lifted, aim true, finger lovingly stroked the trigger.
“Please help…” Sumi whimpered, doe eyes glistening with tears. Her gaze shifted to Kizzie. “Help, or she’s going to kill me.”
* * * *
A quick step shielded Sumi but left Xander staring down the business end of his own gun and Kizzie’s silent fury. The tandem were enough to make his cock go soft. He’d never seen this particular look on her face, not even when she’d threatened to shoot him on his yacht. Her expression had been mocking then, almost joking about his impending demise.
Now was a different matter altogether.
Those laughing brown eyes, soft and sensual just a minute ago, were now hard and unwavering. She’d done this before, killed someone. If he didn’t act, she’d do it again.
“Put it down,” he said. Kizzie didn’t flinch, sighting down the short barrel. The silk tie still secured her wrists, copper tails stretched toward the floor. Sumi peeked out from behind him, and Xander moved to block her again. “Gigi…” he warned, mentally adding three more spankings to her new tally.
“I made her a promise.” Kizzie took a step closer, lasering in on Sumi. “Don’t make me a liar.”
Given her proficiency with a weapon, this wasn’t the time to test that “would you kill me?” theory. And didn’t they already have a rule about her pointing guns in his direction? Three more spankings got tacked on.
“Give me the gun.”
“Move, X.”
He strode toward her, each step like walking the Green Mile. The chill skating up his chest had nothing to do with his open shirt. “First we let her talk,” he said, aware of Phil shifting to cover him. “I don’t like what she has to say, you can shoot her. Twice if it’ll make you happy.”
Still heavy on the frown, Kizzie lowered the gun a hair, hesitated, then brought it down to her side. Xander’s gut unclenched, breathing started up again. He held his hand out for his SIG; Kizzie motioned for her Beretta.
Even trade.
He pushed her gun into his waistband, and she twisted her head side to side slowly.
No deal.
Stock still gripped in both hands, she untied one wrist with her teeth. Xander turned back toward the door. Phil had closed it, keeping this little tête-à-tête as private as possible and preventing Sumi’s escape.
Super short orange skirt, white sailor top with a big blue bow, thigh high stocking and patent leather orange heels. Sumi must have trailed them from CosKink. Xander had been too consumed with thoughts of Kizzie to consider a tail, and for the umpteenth time in his life he was thankful for Phil.
The big man tossed Xander the bag and started in on an efficient frisking. Sumi didn’t argue, as though expecting nothing less when walking into an enemy camp and asking for help. Which was an interesting situation to begin with. All this time tracking her and she just so happened to show up on their doorstep?
Something’s rotten in Tokyo.
Xander handed the bag to Kizzie and she dumped the contents onto the coffee table: a couple yen, the odd papers, hard candy. Lint and crumbs. A box of strawberry Pocky sticks, the pink container crushed on one side. No weapons.
Phil finished his pat down and Sumi stood in the center of the room, wary gaze on Kizzie. Xander swept of his arm toward the sofa, inviting her to sit. Phil dragged a chair from the small table over to the door, and Kizzie went across the room to perch on the arm of the love seat. She hopped up, her ass probably still smarting, and Xander fought a grin.
Gun tucked into her waistband at the small of her back, Kizzie smoo
thed the dreaded tutu down and gave sitting another go. The hard edge to her gaze hadn’t left, and every muscle in her body looked ready to pounce. If Sumi so much as breathed wrong Kizzie might kill her.
Xander dropped into the love seat. Didn’t want Kizzie having a reflex before they got the info they needed.
Hunched on the couch, Sumi curled in on herself to make her body as small as possible, as though trying to disappear. Low sobs sounded in her throat and she rocked back and forth.
A glance up at Kizzie, her gaze downright murderous. He nudged her thigh with his shoulder and jerked his head toward Sumi. A slow, annoyed inhale and Kizzie disappeared into the bedroom; returned and tossed a box of tissue onto the coffee table, resumed her glaring from her carefully settled perch beside him.
“Thank you,” Sumi blubbered. She uncoiled enough to take a square and discreetly blew her nose, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry to have shown up uninvited, Sir, but…I…I didn’t know where else to turn. When I saw you at the party…” Dark eyes brimmed with fresh tears, her chin trembled. “You’re the only person who can help me.”
“Said the spider to the fly,” Kizzie snarked.
Xander kept his gaze on Sumi. “Twenty-one.” Kizzie mumbled under her breath and he added, “Twenty-five.”
“Twenty-five? You’re math is fu—” Xander angled his head but didn’t look at her; Kizzie grit out, “Twenty-eight, Sir.”
Phil snorted.
Sumi’s face was gaunt, nose and cheeks red. No collar.
“Your Mistress took something from me. I want it back.”
“Papa Nikolay’s bomb.”
“My bomb.”
Sumi blinked, wide eyes darting from him to Kizzie and then to the ground. “I will tell you what I know, but I must apologize to you first, Sir. For what I did to your Gigi at the Kukol— Sacha’s. I…I will make it up to you, Gigi.”
Kizzie grunted, and Xander couldn’t blame her. No chance they’d be shopping together. “Why’d you come here?”
“Protection, Sir.”
“Master Duquesne,” he corrected. She bobbed her head but didn’t look up. “Protection from?”
“Her. She…wants me dead. When I returned from Helsinki, she cut my collar, said I was dead to Her…” She swallowed hard and fresh tears crowded her lids. “I’ve spent the last few months dodging Her, but I…” her voice lowered to a whisper, “I haven’t been tied, or touched, our punished since… and the pull…”