“Look at you,” he said, staring wide-eyed at her body.
Zara glanced down at her breasts. The familiar richness of colors circled her nipples and down her inner thighs. How was it possible? She was wet, she couldn’t deny her pussy was clenching and wanted to be filled by his cock, but she’d not be
en actually thinking about sex in that way.
He enveloped her in an embrace and pressed his bulging cock against her. He felt the same way. “You need to be whipped.”
She stiffened in his arms.
“The punishment must be completed,” he spoke as if through anguished gritted teeth. “Completed by me. I shall do it, Zara. I shall. And you will submit to it.”
He drew back, slid one of his hands up her chest and positioned it loosely around her neck. Lowering his mouth, he kissed her hard and she melted in his grasp, finally losing the pandemonium of thoughts in her head.
“Yes. Punish me. Make me yours, Galen,” she said without stuttering.
He retrieved the dreaded thing from a drawer on the other side of the room, clasped her wrist, and led her to his chamber. She saw on his face a determined expression and she guessed he wanted this whipping done without delay.
Once inside his bedroom, he laid the whip on the bed and she eyed the chains hanging from the bedpost. Her lower lip trembled and she feared it would be impossible for her to do as he wished. He followed the line of her sight, then circled to stand behind her.
With his hands on her shoulders, he spoke softly in her ear. “I want you to show me your courage by holding onto the chains and not letting go while I punish your bottom with my whip. Will you do this?”
She shivered with delight as he slid his hands down her arms until they reached her wrists.
He’d offered her a compromise. He wasn’t angry with her or enraged to the point he was out of control. To the contrary, some other feeling was navigating his emotions and she wondered if he had something planned that was to her benefit, as well as his. The need to punish her was strong in him. He was a judge. However, he was also a lover. If she submitted, he might become her friend. Could she then tell him the truth?
“Yes,” she replied.
They stepped forward in unison until she was by the post. He raised her arms and she grasped the chains just short of the shackles. His palms glided back down her arms, across her shoulders and along to her hips. With a brisk movement, he angled her bottom so that it was slightly bent while forcing her arms to straighten.
“Keep that position, naughty girl, while I punish you.” He picked up the whip and swirled the end of it around in a circle by his ankles. The tip was splayed with a thin tassel and he made it dance, demonstrating his skill in handling the whip. Anxiety gave way to trepidation. Go on, Zara, show him human courage!
Approaching her from the side, he took up position. She closed her eyes and braced herself mentally. The whip didn’t crack. She heard nothing, but she felt a sting as the end of it struck the apex of her left bottom cheek.
One flick. Not a strike or a lash, but a nip. For a second it stung badly, then it blurred among the discomfort of her spanked behind. The other cheek suffered a similar taunt. She clung to the chain and gasped. This wasn’t painful, it was a teasing sensation. He was blatantly provoking her and his intention was clear as she moaned. Galen wanted a sexual response, something erotic and pleasing.
“Good girl,” he said as she jutted her bottom out further. “Two more.”
The next two were the same as the first; tolerable and precisely delivered. She almost laughed. He was showing off his prowess because to whip with just the tip must take practice.
“Now, little human, you may let go of the chains, but I want you to hold that position. Keep bent with your head low and reach behind and part your ass cheeks,” he said sternly.
Exhilaration turned into embarrassment. Another emotional dip on her roller coaster ride. How many more could she manage? She nearly called him a bastard, but the words came out differently. Quite differently. “No,” she gasped. “No, please, not there!”
“Yes. Now be good and spread so that I can punish you properly.”
With considerable trepidation, she did as she was told. She parted her cheeks and offered him her open furrow.
“Wider, Zara. I want to see your puckered hole.”
She whimpered and drew her hot cheeks apart until the skin was taut.
“Six little flicks of my whip on your asshole. Six to make you remember to behave and obey my rules.” He trailed the whip down her spine and along her cleft, allowing it to drop between her legs. Was that it? A stroke of his whip?
She had her answer a second later. Her poor bottom hole was treated to a brisk snap of the whip end. She let go of her bottom and shrieked. The pain wasn’t as bad as the shock of having such a vulnerable part of her anatomy exposed and gently abused. Galen was adept and within seconds, the sting had gone. He’d used barely a whisker of the full length of the whip and with probably only a flick of his wrist to make it sweep up and catch her bottom.
“Position, Zara,” he reminded her with a stern rebuke.
“Oh, sir, it hurts,” she claimed, a little dishonestly. She glanced over her shoulder to see him standing there, his shoulders relaxed and eyes alive with warm sparkles. As for the bulge in his pants, it was huge. She resumed the assigned position and separated her cheeks once again.