“I didn’t disobey you. I never left this room.”
“But you allowed someone else in here,” I say, keeping my voice firm. I’m not at all upset with her, but I like the way she melts when I threaten punishment. I’ve punished her only a handful of times. She ignites every time. I know that if I slid my fingers between her thighs right now, she’d be wet for me.
I bend down to the floor where I left my belt and lift it. Her jaw literally drops open and she stares at me in disbelief.
“You—you wouldn’t, sir!” she says. Good girl, remembering how to address me.
I fold the leather into a loop and fist the buckle, then take a step toward her while holding her gaze.
“Oh, I would.”
“Just for me inviting Yvonne over here?”
No, not for that, but because she needs this.
Because I fucking do. A man killed himself today and two bodies lie in makeshift graves. The world outside this door is out of my control. But in here? With her, I am her master.
“You invited her over?” I say. “So not only are you in trouble, but you led your friend to misbehave, and now she’s in trouble, too.”
“Oh,” Marissa says. She bites her lip. “I didn’t think of that.”
I point the belt to the bed. “Out of bed, and bend belly-down over the edge,” I order.
“Sir…” I can tell she’s dying to call me Nicolai, but she knows I’ll punish her for real if she does. But Khristos, I want her to. I want to hear her say my name.
I pull the belt loop and snap it.
“Now.”
“You told me you’d only punish me if I came without permission!” she protests, but she scrambles out of the bed nonetheless. I note her hair is braided down her back, and she looks so sweet. Yvonne probably fixed it, like a little sister. So cute.
“That, too,” I tell her. “But it isn’t the only reason.”
I point to the bed with the folded leather. “Marissa,” I say warningly.
I began this almost teasing, but her protests have earned her a few more strokes. My cock is hard as steel, my grip a tight fist to help me control my need to punish.
With a grimace, she folds herself over the edge of the bed. She’s wearing a little dress, having gotten changed since I left this morning. I step over to her and bend down, my flank pressed up against her. I bring my mouth to her ear.
“You’ll take every stripe of my belt,” I tell her. “And you’ll like it.”
“I will not!” she protests, her eyes flashing at me. Her protesting is part of the appeal, and it’s all the invitation I need. I stand, take my position behind her, then snap my belt across the fullest part of her ass. She hisses and grips the bedsheet, coming up on her toes as a stripe of pink paints her ass. Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
I bring back my belt and let it fly a second time, then a third, each stroke painting a different part of her a fetching rose color. Careful not to let the leather strike the same place twice, I vary the strokes.
“Why are you being punished, Marissa?”
“Because I didn’t ask permission?” she asks with a question in her voice.
I whip her again.
“Is that a question?”
“No, sir,” she says with a moan, squirming and making my dick impossibly harder. The way her full ass is on display, crisscrossed with pink, her submissive posture as she takes her punishment beautiful. A true testament to how much she trusts me. And I won’t make this terrible for her. She hasn’t earned a real punishment, but given me a reason to do what I’ve been longing to do for years. I’ve fantasized about doing this, stroked myself off to this very image, the thought of whipping her so fucking hot I can hardly control myself.
“Will you obey me, then?” I ask in a tight voice, panting with the effort of holding myself back.
“Yes, sir,” she says. I pause between strokes of the belt, and part her thighs with the folded leather.
“Let’s see that pussy,” I rasp, my voice husky with arousal. “Show me how wet you are. Let me see.”
Obediently, she spreads her legs. Her inner thighs are coated with arousal, the scent of her feminine musk pervading the room. She’s fucking soaked.
“How am I ever going to teach you to obey?” I muse, as I step closer and run the leather up and down her thighs. “If every time I spank you, you’re ready to come?”
She closes her eyes and swallows hard. “How am I supposed to take you seriously? When every time you punish me, you’re ready to come?”
“Watch that tone, little girl.”
That earns her three more strokes of the belt for her sass. By the last, she’s up on her toes and begging for mercy, but I grant her none. Not until I bring her to a place beyond where she’s comfortable, to that deep state of submission I’ve taken her before. Beyond the physical pain and to the very edge of euphoria.