by Measha Stone
She watched as his fingers moved over his belt, pulling the thick black leather through the buckle. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pulling himself free of his clothing. He touched the top of her head with his fingertips. It was all the encouragement she needed.
She wrapped her fingers around his thick shaft, and brought him to her mouth, using the end of her tongue to lick the bead of moisture from the tip of his head. She looked up at him, making sure he was watching; his breath quickened. She smiled a devil’s smile before taking him fully into her mouth. She suckled him as she moved up and down on his dick and used her free hand to cup his balls. The growl that escaped him told her she’d done the right thing.
“Wait, wait.” He pulled her mouth from him, sounding pained.
She wanted to please him…not only physically. “What’s wrong?” Her tongue ran over her lips. Had she been too forward?
“Let’s go to the couch.” He helped her stand from the floor and threw her over his shoulder. The strength of him surprised her.
He placed her on the couch as though he were laying the finest crystal down. She watched in silence as he removed his clothing and sat beside her.
He reached out with his strong arm and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. She waited for him to break off the kiss, as he always did, and then she slid down to his lap.
She stretched out on the couch beside him. He ran his fingers through her hair and pulled it back holding it in his hands as he guided her down his shaft. She gave over control to him, letting him choose the depth and speed of her strokes, as she rested her hands on his thigh. A soft moan from her resulted in a low growl from him; she moaned again and heard him suck in his breath.
“You’re killing me!” He groaned and pulled her from his lap. As he watched her wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, he took a ragged breath. “Go in my back pocket.” He pointed to his jeans.
She reached down and dug around until she found what he was looking for. She handed him the small foil package.
“Put it on.” He pushed it back at her.
She opened the condom and placed it in her mouth. A trick not tried since high school, she worried she’d make a fool of herself.
He watched with admiration in his eyes as she took him back into her mouth and slowly coaxed the rubber over him with her lips and tongue. Once she reached the base of his cock, she sat up and gave him a cocky grin. Something about him gave her the nerve to be daring, to do things she’d dreamt of but never tried before.
He pulled her to him and kissed her again with a new fire. Without breaking free from the kiss, he brought her up to straddle him.
She needed no instruction. She guided him into her and groaned into his mouth with the full sensation he caused. Moving up and down quickly, she gripped his shoulders with her hands.
“Ask before you come,” he directed her.
Instinct made her want to disagree, to declare her freedom…but the tingling inside her at his instruction hushed her brain.
His eyes warmed at her agreement, and the tingling intensified. His pleasure drove her own deeper. She didn’t understand the mixture of the emotions rattling inside her like a dark storm about to erupt, but decided to figure it all out later.
She continued to bounce up and down on him. He captured both of her nipples his hands and began twisting them with a gentle pressure. She threw her head back and unleashed herself. Her breasts were still sensitive from the crop and clamps; his slight touch drove her to the edge.
“Can I?” She dug her nails into his skin.
“Can you what?” He played dumb.
“Can I come?” She growled, and he laughed.
“I’m sure you can. I’ve seen it.”
Her nails dug in deeper into his shoulders, her frustration building.
He released one nipple and reached between their mingled bodies, flicking her clitoris as she continued to ride him.
“May I come!?” She panted and began to grind her hips into him, her eyes rolling back from the pleasure. She was at the brink and wouldn’t last much longer.
“Yes, you may,” he ground out his answer and found his own release as she bucked against him with all the eagerness of a predator. She screamed out her orgasm and felt the vibrations of his chest as his own roar of pleasure was released
When the waves passed them, she fell onto his chest, her head resting in the crook of his neck. They both panted and wrapped their arms around each other.
Jessica felt his heart beating beneath her cheek. She inhaled deeply. He smelled strong, no flowery aftershave or overpowering odor that could be tasted as much as smelt.
“Jess?” Royce searched her face. “You okay?” He wiped a strand of hair from her eyes.
“Yes,” she answered and moved from his lap.
He sighed into the air. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but don’t lie to me. One more and you’ll have your first punishment.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Are your breasts sore?” He turned to examine her.
“No, I mean, yeah, a little, but not bad.” She folded her hands in her lap.
“You did extremely well.” His dimple appeared.
“Thanks?” She’d never been complimented after sex before and wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.
“I want to ask you something, and I’d like your honesty.” He pulled away from her and held her chin in his fingers.
She searched his face for a hint at what he was about to bring up. “Okay. I’ll try.” She took a deep breath and waited.
“Why did you become a paralegal instead of going into publishing? There has to be a reason.”
She wanted to pull away from him, to ignore the question. Feelings didn’t work well for her, talking about them only made it worse.
“It just wasn’t for me,” she said, avoiding his gaze and focusing on his chin.
“Why?” He pulled her chin upward until she put her eyes back on his.
“I was afraid,” she said in a soft voice.
He wrinkled his brow.
“I would have failed.” She clarified.
“So you didn’t try?” he asked in a firmer tone.
Did she hear disappointment? “It was a really bad senior year. When it was over, I just needed a job to pay the rent. The paralegal job came along, I wasn’t horrible at it, I stuck to it.” She shrugged.
He let go of her chin. “What happened senior year?”
She shook her head and forced a laugh. “Nope. One question asked and one question answered.” She leaned into him and brushed her lips across his, giving him her best come get me look. It was his turn to laugh and shake his head.
“Fair enough,” he said after a long pause. “I want a shower. Come help me get cleaned up.” He stood from the couch and offered his hand, the way a prince might offer his princess his gloved hand to escort her from a carriage.
She accepted and let him pull her towards the bathroom.
They showered together in silence, taking turns washing each other. He insisted on washing her hair for her and took his time with the chore.
Once they were cleaned up, they slipped into bed. She knew she should get dressed and go home, but he wrapped his arms around her to snuggle her closer to him. The unfamiliar feeling of contentedness crept up her spine and settled in her mind.
She would allow herself one night. One night only.
CHAPTER SIX
The Punishment
Royce’s eyes fluttered open from the sunlight streaking across his face. Realizing it was Saturday, and he didn’t have to go into the office, he grabbed the pillow beside him and covered his face. Then he reached a hand out beside him and cool sheets greeted him. He tossed the pillow aside and sat up.
No Jessica. The clock told him it was only seven in the morning. Maybe she was an early riser, he tried to give her the benefit of the doubt.
He knew there was more to her past than a few bad love affairs. She’d been hurt somewhere d
eep within her that had caused her to guard herself in such a way. He’d taken a risk pushing her about her career, and she hadn’t disappointed him. Perhaps the residual feelings from sex had loosened her tongue. He decided to try again for more information right after her next orgasm…right after breakfast.
His attraction to her had less to do with her appearance than her personality. She gave him the vibe of loyalty and honesty. She told little lies to hide her emotions from him and anyone else taking the time to peek in, true. But in her core, she was an honest person. The way she spoke of the people in the case she was working on told him she concerned herself with the welfare of others.
He’d worried about pushing her too hard with the clothespins. Her eagerness and willingness was as much of a turn on as her beautiful breasts. The pins he’d chose for their play gave the lightest pinch, though he wondered if she would have been open to taking the harder ones. She’d taken him by surprise with her boldness with the condom. The thought of it woke his dick up.
He jumped out of bed to find her.
She sat in the living room, fully clothed, fondling the riding crop.
He paused in the doorway to drink her in. Her braid fell down her back, and she wore the same clothes as the night before. He made a note to himself to ask her to bring a bag next time, or he would shop for her. Once he got her out of her clothes, he’d check her sizes.
Holding the crop in her hands, she balanced the rod on her palms as if to check its weight. She brought the flapper to her nose and sniffed the leather. He watched her run it over her jaw and imagined him performing the same act while he held the crop.
She stood from the couch and put her foot on the coffee table, lightly tapping her jean clad thigh with the flogger.
“Good morning.” He stepped into the living room, stopping her experiment before he sprung through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. His presence startled her, and she bumbled with the crop before dropping it back onto the coffee table.
“Hi.” She stuffed her hands into her pockets. A rose blush settled on her cheeks.
“I worried you ran away again.” He kissed her on a cheek and picked up the crop. “Are you curious about this?” He touched the flapper to her nose.
She shook her head and took a step back.
One of his eyebrows rose at her reaction. “Did you hate it last night?” Had she rethought the scene after the arousal had worn off?
“No,” she admitted, taking another step back.
“Are you ashamed you liked it?” He toyed with the crop in his hands.
“No.” She shrugged. Her eyes darted from the crop to the window behind him, looking for a safe place to put herself.
“That’s one. I’ll give you one more chance to be honest with me.” He felt his jaw tighten. “Are you ashamed of what we did last night?”
“Not ashamed.” She scratched the back of her elbow, her eyes on the coffee table.
“Then what?” He tapped the crop against his upturned palm.
Her eyes fixated on the leather rod. “What we did was fine. I liked it.” Another shrug.
“And that’s a bad thing.” He slapped the crop against his palm. The sound hung between them.
“Stop putting words in my mouth,” she demanded with balled up fists and a stomp of her right foot.
He tilted his head and stared her down like the adversary she was making herself. “Do you think that stomping and yelling is the way we should handle this?” He wasn’t curious; it was a warning.
“You keep insisting you know my feelings.”
“You keep insisting you don’t have any.” He threw back. “Tell me, and I’ll stop assuming.” He crossed his arms over his chest, still holding the crop in his hand.
“I don’t understand why I liked it. I shouldn’t have liked it.” She took a deep breath.
“Tell me something, Jessica. When I instruct you and you obey, what does that feel like to you?” He leaned against the arm of the couch.
Her eyelids drooped, her fists remained tight, and she chewed her inner lip. “I was thinking we could have breakfast.” Her eyes moved again, still not falling on him.
“That’s two. One more and you’ll get ten with my belt.” His tone was unyielding, his jaw tight. He could see with the shift in her stance she was going to defy him, to push him. He hoped he read her signals wrong. His hope for her legs wrapped around his waist while he sunk his dick into her began to fade from his mind.
“Your belt? One difference of opinion and you reach for your belt?” She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her hips toward him.
“Stop fighting me. Answer the question, and we can go into the kitchen and have breakfast.” He blocked her attempt to derail the conversation.
“See, now I really don’t want to talk about it.” She raised her chin in defiance.
There would be no morning sex.
“Jessica, go into the bedroom, remove your pants, and bend over the bed. Keep your hands in front of you.” His voice sounded flat. He stood from the couch and stepped out of the way in order for her move around him.
She didn’t move.
“That would be now, Jessica. Go.” He nodded toward the bedroom, as fear began to flow into her expression. “Go.” He held firm.
“I don’t see—”
“Let me put it this way. You have two choices.” He uncrossed his arms and squared his shoulders to her. “You either do as you’re told—like you agreed when we began this—or you leave. Punishments are part of the deal. You broke a rule. You are holding back.” His heart pounded in his chest; he could hear it in his ears. He held back his own fear that she would choose the second option and be gone from him.
“I’ll answer you.” She dropped her hands to her sides and relaxed her shoulders. Her eyes met his. She looked hopeful, and he almost hated to squash it.
“We will talk after your spanking. Now go to the bedroom, or I’ll have to add more to your punishment.” He would not be moved from his decision; she would need to learn that about him. Once he decided on a punishment, consequences would be paid, and no amount of sugar on top of it talking would change that.
Jessica’s eyes darted his to the crop and back again to his eyes. Her thoughts flashed across her expressions.
He continued to glare her down as she made her decision. Her heavy sigh, brimming with resolve, gave him his answer. He moved out of her path. Her eyes did not meet his as she walked past him and disappeared down the hallway.
The morning of sultry meals and erotic moments dissipated before his eyes along with his hope of her first spanking being one of pleasure. He looked at the crop in his hand and tossed it onto the coffee table.
Resigned to the path they were now on, he crossed the living room and headed to the bedroom.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Taking One’s Lumps
Jessica stood next to Royce’s bed, looking at herself in the closet door mirror. The feelings bubbling inside her lacked a name. She couldn’t explain how she knew, but she knew he wouldn’t hurt her—not physically—not really. Every man was capable of breaking her heart—she knew that as fact—and Royce was every bit a man.
She’d never been spanked before, not even as a child. He had been upfront with her from the beginning. He would use it as a punishment if needed. He’d given her an out, a way not to be in the situation she found herself. Why hadn’t she just told him? What was to be gained with pushing him? Forcing him to prove he meant what he said?
The past loves of her life had made many promises, and very few of them had delivered. This wasn’t a promise of a night of passion. This was a promise of pain. Of punishment.
She stared at herself in the mirror and began to undress.
The option of saying no to this step and leaving didn’t stay in her mind long. They had agreed to the terms of their relationship and punishments came with the territory.
He’d kept to their agreement; he did not try to maintain control when they were
apart. She would stick to her part of the agreement. If nothing else, to chalk it up to an experience once had that could be a funny story to tell.
She knew Royce entered the room from the heavy shuffling of his feet. She still found herself in awe of his size. He hadn’t dressed yet for the day, his pajama bottoms added a lightness to the room. A drawer scraped open. Metal jingled. She buried her face into the comforter.
A heavy sigh—one full of disappointment—filled the room, and her heart sank in her chest. The bed gave way to his weight as he sat beside her. She didn’t chance looking at him; she didn’t want to lose her nerve.
“I can’t take care of you if you won’t be honest about your feelings.” He placed a warm palm on the curve of her bare backside. “Part of playing is talking afterward to be sure you and I are okay and no damage physically or emotionally occurred. My intent may be to cause you temporary pain with a clothespin or a spanking, but it is never to injury you. When you won’t talk to me, how can I assess the situation? How can your needs be attended to?” He rubbed her skin.
Not sure if she should speak, she decided against it. She peeked over her shoulder at him. He was watching his hand linger over her ass. His words made sense, but his talk about her needs threw her off guard.
The first swat of his hand surprised her. She jumped from the impact and the sting. His bare hand on her skin. He had said it would be with his belt; she figured he’d changed his mind. She wasn’t going to argue.
“Warm up first. Then the belt.” He slapped her again as if knowing her thoughts.
She grunted.
He continued to bring his hand down heavily on her bottom, his fingers lingering a moment before he delivered the next smack. She tried to concentrate on his words, instead of the physical presence of his hand.
Her lungs burned from the heat of the room, and her ass warmed at a steady pace with each lasting touch of his hand. She gripped the comforter as a hard slap landed on the down curve of her ass, a tender spot.