“I love this,” he said, looking at the remote appreciatively. Then his eyes hardened. “Bend over the bar stool.”
I obeyed immediately, hoping that pleasing him would help my case. As much as I struggled against it, the feeling inside me was growing, fueled by the knowledge that I had no control over my own body.
Dallon pulled my skirt over my waist. “I’m going to spank you until you come.”
Shit. Hearing his words, my insides clenched around the vibrating object, sending delicious waves of pleasure through me. As the first slap came, my body jerked forward on the stool, rubbing my swollen pubic mound against its surface.
“Please,” I whispered, no longer sure if I was begging him to stop or to help me find release.
“You like this, don’t you?” he chuckled. “You always try to resist, but you feel the best when you give yourself to me. My greatest joy will be the day you admit it.”
The second slap came and I was mumbling almost incoherently, agreeing with him, saying whatever he wanted in order to make the feeling continue.
His hand stilled. “Ask me to spank you.”
My cheeks heated at the idea. I grasped the second bar stool for support, my legs shaking violently beneath me.
“Beg me,” he said in a low voice.
Oh, the humiliation. The burning between my legs only increased. “Please, sir,” I heard myself saying. “Please spank me.”
Dallon sighed almost reverently. “Oh, Amy.”
And then the third slap came, and I unraveled, clutching the stool tightly as the orgasm ripped through me. I was panting, still grasping the stool, when Dallon gently scooped me up and into his arms, carried me into his bedroom. There, he laid me on the bed, my legs still weak and tingling. As he looked down at my exhausted body, his gaze softened.
“I’m not going to fuck you because we have a long day tomorrow,” he said softly.
“Thank you,” I responded sarcastically.
He raised an eyebrow at me, and I checked my tone.
“Thank you, Sir.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “Good girl. I’ll work on the dishes while you rest for a bit. Then we’ll get ready for bed.”
Chapter Twenty-two
The next morning, I awoke in a haze, stretched my arm out to find Dallon’s side of the bed empty. Groaning with disappointment, I was about to go looking for him when my iPhone beeped. I rolled over and read the text message from Jackson.
How’s life with your sugar daddy?
I rolled my eyes and texted back.
Are you trying to bug me or looking to be titillated?
He responded “both”, and I laughed before sending another message.
Still getting used to it. This place is amazing… Come over sometime and see for yourself.
I found Dallon on his phone in the study. He was wearing a black suit, white shirt, red tie and red pocket square—a combination that somehow made him look dangerous—sitting in his leather chair and rotating it slowly from side to side. When he saw me, he stopped, a wicked smile spreading across his face.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize,” I told him, turning to leave.
He put up a hand to stop me but didn’t say anything, obviously still listening to his call. I halted and he smirked, pointed at the ground in front of him.
My mouth dropped open. He couldn’t be serious. He wanted me to do that now? While he was on a conference call?
As I continued to stand there, nervously fingering the strings of my sleeping shorts, his eyes narrowed, his expression turning from mischievous to angry. He raised an eyebrow, as if daring me to question his meaning.
I’d accepted his challenge. I couldn’t let him win.
I swallowed and took a step into the room, reassured by his resulting grin. As I neared him, he opened his legs so I could step between them. I put my hands on his legs as I sank to my knees, trying not to look as nervous as I’d felt. This was only my second time and I had no idea what I was doing.
Dallon unzipped his fly and pulled himself out, running his hand up and down as he looked back into my eyes. I could hear someone talking on the line and prayed that he had his phone on mute. I was too afraid to ask.
Grasping his thighs, I pulled him to me, the chair rolling forward. Then I took him in one hand and licked his length slowly, base to tip, my eyes on his the entire time. I watched as his expression darkened and he inhaled through his teeth. The conversation continued and Dallon’s mouth quirked up.
My smile mimicked his, and just before I took him in my mouth, he gently took my hand from his thigh and wrapped it around the base of his shaft, indicating that I should use it as well. I did as he instructed, pumping up and down hard, wrapping my lips around him tightly. His hand moved to my hair, grasping tightly, and I wondered if he was trying to hold back, to prevent himself from uttering something he shouldn’t. He tilted his head back and at the same time, pushed his chair forward so that I was forced to retreat under his desk.
In that moment, I wanted a victory over Dallon King.
I sat back, looking up at him coyly and licking his length slowly, playing with him like I might a Popsicle. His eyes hardened as he watched, his knuckles white around his phone. And then I knew for certain his phone wasn’t on mute.
We were playing a very dangerous game.
I stood, still smiling, and pulled down my shorts. His eyes widened. Before he could move, I was on his lap, one hand on his shoulder and the other trying to guide him inside of me. His other hand shot out, grasped my hip and squeezed. I inhaled hard. His teeth were clenched, that muscle in his cheek twitching.
We were frozen eye to eye, gazes fierce, as someone rambled on about mining with a tin voice. Then Dallon hit end on his phone, dropped it over his shoulder.
“Fuck it.”
He stood and I slid off him, stepping back when I realized his expression was angry.
“You tried to take control,” he said in a low voice.
I bit my lip, unable to deny it. Instead, I tried to distract him. “Why are you wearing a suit on a Saturday morning?”
His expression remained the same. “I had an early morning conference call. I was on camera.”
The color drained out of my face. “Not the one you were just on?”
Now he smiled. “No, Amy, that was my second call of the morning.”
I sighed visibly, feeling silly for thinking so, and peeked up at him. “I’m sorry.”
“Face my desk.”
I turned around slowly, holding my breath.
“Pull down your shorts and bend over, placing your forearms on its surface.”
I did as he asked, memories of the first night we met resurfacing. I’d been nervous because I didn’t know what to expect and wanted to please him. Now I still found myself wanting to please him, but for a completely different reason.
“I’m going to punish you,” he began and involuntarily, a throb began between my legs. “You agreed to relinquish control to me for one entire day, yet you failed with your first test of the morning.”
I wanted to argue and remind him how well I’d done the night before, but I didn’t dare. There was nothing to gain from angering him further.
“I’m going to spank you, but it’s for punishment, so it will be a lot harder than I’ve spanked you in the past.” He waited a moment before he continued, his hands gently caressing my butt cheeks, warming them. “I’m going to spank you ten times, and I want you to count.”
The first slap caught me by surprise and I cried out, immediately moving out of position.
Dallon sighed. “Now I’m afraid we will have to start over. Get back into position and don’t forget to count.”
I clenched my jaw and prepared myself this time, and when his hand slapped my other cheek, I didn’t hesitate. “One.”
He smacked his hand across both cheeks. “And don’t forget to call me “Sir”. We’ll start again.”
His hand came down, and I cried out
, “One, Sir!”
He continued that way, alternating slaps between cheeks and not pausing to caress me like he had before. By the tenth slap, I hated him. Tears blurred my eyes and I could barely count the final spank. My throat was swollen from trying to hold back.
“Very good.” Dallon’s hands massaged my sore flesh. Grasping my waist, he helped me to stand again, pulling up my shorts carefully as if suddenly worried about hurting me.
I didn’t look him in the eye. I was enraged, wanted to hurt him like he had hurt me. My hands balled into fists at my sides as angry tears fell onto my cheeks.
“Look at me,” Dallon said, his voice soft.
I looked up, shooting him a nasty look.
“Careful,” he warned.
I sniffed but wiped the look off my face.
“Do you know why I did that?”
“Because I took control.”
“Yes. I warned you the other night that there would be a punishment, did I not?”
I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand, nodding almost imperceptibly.
“If you were anyone else, I would have chosen a higher number, but I know how hard it is for you to give me control. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”
This surprised me. “I’m afraid I made a mistake, agreeing to this. I have a feeling that I’m going to get hurt a lot.”
“There are other ways to punish you besides pain, don’t worry about that.” He moved to stand in front of the full length mirror on the wall beside his desk, motioned me over. He began to undress me slowly, his voice gentle.