by Trent Evans
He stroked the body-warmed leather over the curves of her bottom, his hand caressing her lower back. She could feel the fine sheen of sweat on her skin already.
“These last three will be the worst, Erica. I’m going to make these hurt, because you need them. Are you ready?”
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!
Her ass burned, the skin feeling abraded the way it always did after a solid leathering. It wasn’t nearly as bad as a caning, but she knew she’d be a sore girl in the morning, even without the last three strokes still to come.
“Yes … Sir.”
He bent over her, his lips whispering at her temple. “Be strong, beautiful.”
Quick, crisp smacks rained down upon her ass. Each blow was harder than the last, the pain searing, and she cried out at each one. He knew how to make a paddling hurt when he wanted to — and this time it seemed he definitely wanted to.
Erica sucked in a great lungful of air, exhaling it in a soft whine. The throbbing made her move her hips, trying to shake off the pain.
“Punishment over,” he whispered, making her kiss the paddle once more. He grasped her arm, and helped her to her feet. Her head swam a little and her bottom was definitely warm. Overall, though, ten strokes was a very light paddling, and she was grateful that’s all she’d suffered for her transgression. She knew it could have been a lot worse.
Blaine sat on the edge of the bed, tugging on her arm.
“W—what are you… ?”
The fire in the hazel depths of his gaze was unmistakable. “The paddling was for your punishment. This is for me. Over my lap.”
Oh no.
She swiftly found herself in that familiar, humiliating position, blood pounding at her temples, the unruly dark curls of her hair all around her. She felt heat against the side of her hip and looked back. His cock stood up from the open fly of his slacks, its heavy length laid along her flesh. The urge to turn and take him between her lips was so strong; she almost risked further disobedience to do it.
Blaine looked down at her, his jaw clenched. “Get your head down.”
She obeyed, shivering, hiding her face back under her curls once more.
The loose blouse partially covered her bottom, so he rucked the fabric higher, fully exposing her, the air cool on her sweaty lower back. His hands eased over her ass, the calloused fingers rough against her soft skin. Her thighs shook, fatigued from holding them steady during the paddling. His hands squeezed the lush flesh.
“Tired, little girl? We’re not done yet — not by a long shot.”
Blaine massaged each cheek in turn, both hands stroking, kneading, working the tension from her muscles. He traced each stinging, abraded mark with gentle fingertips, even bending to blow on them once, making her shiver. “Scorched here I see. Might be pretty sore after your spanking.”
“Um, maybe you could skip the spanking?”
His hands stopped moving, his body tense, still. She swallowed. Maybe talking back hadn’t been the most brilliant of moves.
Fingers dove into the tangle of her locks, twisting as he pulled her head up sharply. “Do you get to dictate what happens in this relationship?”
Wait — relationship?
He’d never called it that before. ‘Play’ or ‘arrangement’ were the terms she’d most often heard him use.
“N—no, Sir.”
“And why is that?” The cadence of his speech slowed, his voice soft. But she wasn’t fooled — when he got this way, she knew she was in trouble.
There were few right answers to these questions, and many wrong ones. “Because my only duty is to obey, do as I’m told?”
“That’s correct. So, does that mean you get to suggest I let you off of your spanking?”
Were it possible to unspeak words, she knew she’d be doing it now.
“Ahh!” Her scalp burned as his hand tightened in her locks. “No, Sir! I shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.”
“Good, then we understand each other, don’t we?”
She nodded as best she could against his steely grip.
Blaine let go of her hair, his hand stroking from her nape down the length of her spine, fingers tangling in the blouse bunched at the small of her back.
He squeezed her buttocks harshly, making her wince. ”Ready for your spanking?”
I thought this was for you?
She was eternally grateful her snark did not make it past her lips.
“Yes, Sir. Please, not too hard.”
Hands stroked circles over each cheek, adding to the heat of her paddling. “That’s up to you. Be a good girl, and this shouldn’t take long.”
The spanking began immediately, heavy smacks swiftly building heat to scorching levels. His palm slapped down onto the middle of one of her cheeks, the sound like a pistol shot. Soon, she was wagging her hips side-to-side, unable to help herself, even though she knew it would only encourage him to be even harsher with her.
“Keep still. I’m not hitting you that hard. A good girl takes her spankings quietly.”
What the hell was he talking about? Her ass was on fire, the pain much more intense than that from the paddling. She breathed in through her nose, and out through her mouth, trying anything she could to cope with the burning heat. All the while her body betrayed her, the deep uncoiling in her belly as she thought of what he must be seeing, her naked ass laid out for him to punish. She wished he’d give her a breather, to let the heat in her ass cool off, but his steady, hard blows continued.
“Please, Sir! Too hard!”
Blaine laughed, landing a smack along the top of her thigh, making her yelp. “We’re just getting started, girl. You aren’t fooling anybody.”
His hand spanked over every inch of her ass, raising a throbbing burn everywhere. He paused after a harsh blow to the bottom of one cheek, sending her flesh bounding. She was grateful her hair shrouded her blushing face, for she hated the mortifying feel of her cheeks bouncing and wobbling under his smacks.
“I love seeing your little bottom move, girl. We’ve got some good color now too. Need some more here though.” His fingers pulled up on one cheek, and she felt the stretch at the junction of thigh and buttock before he cracked a palm down onto that sensitive spot. An identical blow smacked down on the other cheek, shaking her whole body, the sting dragging a small sob from her.
Blaine moved his hips against her. “God, you’re fucking killing me.”
I’m killing you?
She wanted nothing more than to take care of his problem for him, but she knew there was no way it was happening until he’d roasted her cheeks to his exacting specifications; likely until they were hot to the touch, and tears streamed down her face. She had no doubt he’d then pronounce them “just right.”
“Spread your thighs, Erica.”
Thankful for a reprieve from the punishing blows, she gladly complied, widening her legs until she could feel her wet slit open, exposed to him. The first few times Blaine had spanked her, the humiliation of the exposure of her pussy (and often her bottom hole) to his gaze proved more of a trial to her than the actual pain of the spankings. She always felt so… vulnerable. Erica well knew that that was precisely the point, but knowing that didn’t make submitting to it any easier for her.
Thick fingers traced the sensitive folds of her labia, smoothing the delicate flesh out with gentle fingertips, then splaying her lips firmly, making her gasp.
Yes, finally.
She never ceased to marvel that two hands that could deal out such pain, be so rough, cruel, yet in the next breath, become so very gentle, attentive, even loving. It was just one of the many remarkable things about the man she called Sir. The man she hoped someday might truly claim her for his own.
A long finger slid into her, curling in the way he knew drove her insane with pleasure.
Oh God, yes!
His finger squelched within her soaked flesh as he stimulated just the right spot within her, the exquisite sensation curling her toes, the te
nsion bunching the strong muscles of her thighs, her abdominals clenching. “Oh, that’s good,” she breathed, her hips rolling, wanting more, needing more. “Oh Jesus, that’s so good!”
Then he stopped, his finger held still inside her. She tried to keep it going with her hips, clenching down, twisting upon him, but his hand smacked her sore buttocks. “Stop that. You come when I say you can — if I let you come at all.”
She stilled her hips, but it took every ounce of willpower she possessed to do so. Erica thought about begging him (it wouldn’t be the first time), or telling him she’d let him do anything to her (which she knew he’d do anyway) as long as he let her come. The tension thrummed through her body as she kept herself motionless, hoping, praying he would continue.
When he did, a tear slipped down her cheek, her sigh of relief coming from the very depths of her soul. The man knew how to work a pussy, and he literally (and figuratively) had hers wrapped around his finger.
She sighed as he eased a second finger deep within her, but her sighs quickly turned anguished as he began spanking her once more with his off hand. The explosion of fresh pain had her crying out within seconds. The blows were different though, the stinging, jarring smacks somehow imparting a vibration through her flesh straight to her throbbing, erect clit, her tight nipples aching sympathetically.
Relentless, he did it twice more, working her to the brink, then stopping. Her agonized protests, her desperate pleadings rose again as he smacked her now blazing buttocks some more. The second time he stopped, he added the calloused fingertips to her clit, working the hard nodule back and forth along with the clever, devastating fingers stroking inside her pussy. She grunted as he left off for a third time, clutching herself to his legs, waiting for the harsh pain to begin again, accepting it as her lot. Her face was awash in tears, her hair wet with it.
“Good girl,” he crooned, thrusting his fingers as deep as they’d go, earning a groan from her. “That’s it girl, surrender to it. That’s what a slave does. There’s no choice in this, only acceptance. Give yourself to it, to me.”
Erica sniffled as he spoke to her. All she knew was that he had her; he controlled her, her everything. There was no longer any shame, nor any fear. There was just Sir and his slave. All she wanted was for him to make her come, to let her come for him. God, she wanted it so much.
Fresh tears came to her eyes as he spread her buttocks well apart, his soft lips upon the inner slopes, planting a tender kiss directly upon the delicate, sensitive flesh of her bottom hole. He worked a broad hand over the whole of her sex, cupping her throbbing labia, coating his palm in her juices, the wet sounds of her soaked pussy making her whimper in embarrassment.
His fingers left off one last time, peppering hard smacks all over her bottom. He finished her off with a flurry of smacks marching down the vulnerable flesh of her thighs, the harsh pain of the blows drawing a strangled scream from her.
As she wept, the pain finally overwhelming her, his thick fingers slid between her labia once more. “There we go, girl. No more spanking now.” His fingers thrust in hard, and she moaned through her tears. It felt so good to be penetrated deeply, the primal, animal pleasure astonishing her with its power. His fingers were back at her clit, pushing the hood back, fully exposing the aching flesh to the pain and pleasure of his rough fingertips.
“Oh God, oh God! Please, Sir!”
“What do you want, girl?” He added a third finger to her cunt, stretching her further as he plunged within her once more, the thrusts rougher by the second.
“Please, I need to come! Let me come. Oh God, please!”
Rough, cruel fingertips swirled over her throbbing, aching clit, and he pushed three fingers deep, the tips hard against her cervix. She went over then, screaming out her ecstasy, the light in the room exploding into a brilliant white, blotting out everything in her world but the mind-bending bliss of her orgasm. She could feel her pussy flood over his fingers, her hips jerking as he wrung more impossibly pleasurable spasms from her. Erica knew she could happily die from orgasms this good. Her body finally hung, spent, her lungs working like a great bellows, her breathing labored. Beads of sweat ran down her inner arms, tickling her sensitive flesh.
“That’s my good girl. My lovely girl,” Blaine whispered as she came down from it, his fingers gently stroking within her. He swiped a fingertip across her over-stimulated clit, and she cried out in both pleasure and anguish. Chuckling at her reaction, he did it again.
“Ahh, Sir, too much! Please, I can’t take it!”
Cruel man. Lovely man.
He bent over and laid a soft kiss on her wet cheek. “Luckily, your Sir is merciful.”
Erica craned her head up at him, flashing a wry smile. “Is that what you call it?”
“Watch yourself, Erica” But she could see the warmth in his gaze. He was pleased with her.
“Come here now.” His strong arms enfolded her, bringing her up to sit on his lap, her long legs curled over his thighs. She rested her head on his chest, the beat of his heart a steady thump under her ear. The tip of his hard cock was wet, and she felt the moisture against her thigh as she hugged herself to him.
“That was … amazing,” she whispered, closing her eyes. Her ass and her clit seemed to throb as one now, the afterglow of her orgasm merging with, becoming indistinguishable from, the warm aching of her ass.
“It’s been too long.” His lips brushed her cheek, nuzzled the frazzled locks at her temple.
She turned her head up to him, to his intense hazel eyes. Such a beautiful man. How in God’s name had he ended up with someone like her in his life? A man, filthy rich, who happened to have the body of a god, holding this gawky, too-tall girl in his arms, cradling her as if she weighed nothing. Sometimes things just made no sense, and even in her short life she’d learned enough not to question too much. Not to question the good things.
“I want you, Erica,” he said, his kiss hard, possessive. His hand held her face while his tongue explored her soft mouth, her swollen lips. Enjoying, claiming.
His.
He pulled back, gazing at her a moment, searching for something, the last light of the setting sun sparkling within the depths of his eyes.
Then she saw it, that darkness descending on his gaze like a cloud passing over a sunny prairie, just a hint of what lay beneath.
“Get up,” he said, a new edge to his voice.
Erica slid off his lap, drawing herself to her full height before him. She barely suppressed the urge to cover her sex, displayed as she was before him. It made her feel like a shamefaced little girl. The thought sent another little surge of moisture between the slick lips of her pussy.
“Take the rest of it off.”
She pulled reluctantly at one arm of the blouse. It was absurd to think so, standing there in front of him with her naked cunt bared to his gaze, but even the open blouse provided something. A symbolic protection, a weird sort of comfort.
“Now,” he barked. “I won’t have you hiding from me, not ever. Get it off.”
Swallowing, looking over the top of his head, she slipped the fabric off her shoulders, the blouse whispering to the floor, the lace bra following suit. Blaine’s eyes roved over her body, his jaw clenching, his unhurried, assessing gaze making her flush anew.
Erica watched his hand wrap around his cock, stroke slowly up and down the long, veined shaft. She licked her lips, and tried to kneel, but he was up and on her in a flash, a hand entwined in her unruly curls. She stumbled as he dragged her over toward the window once more. Back to all those watching eyes.
“No, wait —”
“I don’t want to hear you speak that word again, Erica,” he whispered into her ear. “We need to talk about that again, I see.” He used his grip on her hair to turn and push her against the window, her cheek laid along the glass. “But first, I want you.”
Oh God, yes.
She fluttered her hands at her sides, unsure what to do with them.
“On the window, over your head.”
Absurdly, she felt relieved he'd told her what to do. Despite that, the position made her feel even more helpless, further exposed. She had no doubt that was his intent. Even as she felt something hard and hot touch her ass, she found herself gazing at the brilliant red gold of the waning sunset, the beauty of it so unlike anything seen in the valley.
Blaine was a big man, and as his cock slid into her, she panted, the very tight fit just this side of uncomfortable. It was the same every time of course, no matter how often he’d taken her. She knew he liked that she had to work to take him, that it was never easy. Erica never wanted easy, she just wanted him — and stretched pussy or not, she’d have him.
The fabric of his slacks pressed to the backs of her thighs as he seated himself fully within her, the head of his big penis seemingly at the core of her. Her body shuddered at the deep penetration, the feel of his hard thighs against her making her grind her ass slowly against him.
“Shh, don’t move. I just want to feel you, feel you tight around me. Be still now.”
She moaned, fighting the urge to roll her hips. How could she? With her Sir’s cock deep within her, the need to work him, to thrust down upon him was visceral, primal.
He drew a whispered sigh from her lips as he began to thrust, just slow, deliberate movements at first, the slide of every hot, hard inch of him exquisite and maddening all at once. He kept at her like that, the room silent but for her labored breathing and the wet sounds of her pussy surrendering to the solid strokes of his cock.
“That’s it, girl.” The hand in her hair pushed her face harder against the window. “You just stay nice and quiet, and let me fuck this cunt.”
He let go of her hair, relaxing the tension in her neck. The light had lowered further outside, some of the creeping cars’ headlights now visible on the road below. Erica squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t look out the window like that.
Could. Not. Look.
A hard thrust shook her body against the glass, as he took up deeper, faster movements. She moaned again as his hips slammed into her ass, her bare breasts squeaking against the window. Her nipples had grown so hard, she was sure they would etch the glass as her body jostled under the assault of his thrusting.