p; “Put me down!” I shriek, beating my fists on his ribs.
“I’d like to say this is going to hurt me as much as it hurts you,” he says, his voice rumbling against my belly, “but I’m not going to lie to you, babygirl: I’m going to enjoy every second of this.” He carries me up the stairs and dumps me onto my pastel pink and purple bedspread.
I launch myself at him with an outraged squeal but he just laughs, sits down on the mattress and hauls me over his lap. “Now, how do I want you?”
I cry out and thrash about but find myself pushed headfirst toward the floor and I have to brace my hands against the carpet. Each of my thighs are straddling his lap, leaving my behind up in the air.
“Your skirts, babygirl. Fuck. They’re perfect,” he says, his hands smoothing over the short pleats in admiration. Then he flips them up. “And these,” he says, fingering the elastic of my panties, “are too cute.” He explores the fabric with his fingers, delving between my thighs, caressing me. When he traces slow circles on my clit I try to ignore the delicious sensations, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good it feels.
“That’s nice, isn’t it, princess?” And his voice is just as caressing. It’s more than nice, and a moan escapes my lips.
“But we’re not here for that.” And he yanks the fabric of my panties upwards and into my cleft and I gasp. My arms are already shaking with the effort of supporting the weight of my upper body. I expect that’s the point: he wants to make this as punishing as possible.
“Dieter, look, I get it, I honestly do. I haven’t been as good as I should have been.”
But he ignores me. “I’ve wanted to do this from the moment I met you.” One of his hands squeezes the flesh of my behind, and then he raises it, bringing it down in a hard smack a moment later. My body jerks and I cry out. “You’re a rude”—smack—”stubborn”—smack—”spoiled”—smack—”little girl, aren’t you?”
It hurts and I feel my face flood with embarrassed heat. “Piss off!”
He chuckles, a cold, vindictive sound. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He hits me again, harder, and keeps going, telling me how often he’s wanted to lay me out on the back seat of his car and spank me while people were walking past. How he’s pictured me bound and gagged and naked and bent over a chair. How bratty girls are his favorite because they need a lot of disciplining and there’s nothing more satisfying than having a mouthy little princess over his knee.
Soon my ass is burning and my eyes are watering. Even though it hurts like crazy I can feel how wet and turned on I am by some strange combination of the heat and the pain and the relish in his voice. The hard rod of his erection is pressing against my clit and my stomach.
“Are you done?” I say through gritted teeth when he pauses to rub his hands over my heated flesh. If he tries to fuck me now I am going to rip his balls off with my nails, no matter how much I want him right now.
“Are you crying and begging for mercy yet?”
“Am I what?” He wouldn’t just keep going, would he? But he brings his hand down harder than ever, and I shriek. “Never! I won’t give you the satisfaction.”
“Yes, you will, babygirl.” And he ups the pace and the strength of his spanks until I’m crying out at the tops of my lungs, twisting left and right and swearing like a sailor.
He pinches my behind hard, and raps out, “Do you think it’s making me feel merciful, hearing you talk like that?”
I reposition my hands against the carpet, clenching the pile with my nails. If my eyes were lasers I would have burned through to the earth’s crust by now. “It’s either swear or scream,” I say. I thought I could be a sub but I’m clearly not a goddamn sub because I don’t want to submit to him, I want to murder him right now. How dare he do this to me?
“Then scream. The windows have double-glazing.” And he keeps going, clenching my body between his knees and holding me still.
He can’t keep going. His hand must be getting tired. Ow. Ow. OW. “All right! Please, I’m begging you, I’ve had enough.”
“Oh, really? Is that so?” He pulls my panties aside and his fingers stroke across my wetness. “Does it irritate you, babygirl, how much your body is enjoying this? You are so swollen.” His thumb circles my clit and the heat and sensation of his fingers are working to betray me. He straightens his legs a little so that I’m not pinned so tightly between them.
“Relax your arms, babygirl,” he whispers, and I put my shaking forearms on the floor and rest my hot cheek against the carpet. “Is that better?”
“Yes.” I can hear the gratitude creeping into my voice. The promise of coming and I’m ready to forgive what he’s just done to me? Pathetic.
He keeps working at my clit, making me gasp and moan, bringing me closer to orgasm. He’s not holding me in place anymore and I could slip off his lap if I wanted to. But I don’t want to, and he knows it. Nothing has ever felt so good as what he’s doing to me right now.
“Do you want to know a secret, babygirl?” he murmurs.
“What, daddy?” I can feel my mind clearing and a calmness stealing over me. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I’ve never been more vulnerable to anyone, but it’s making me feel strong, not weak. It doesn’t make any sense but I let the questions slip away.
I hear him groan like he’s bitten his lip, and he pulls me tighter against him. “Fuck, that’s a sweet sound.”
“Yes, daddy?”
“You are such a good little princess when you want to be, aren’t you? Where was I? Oh yes. My secret. Did you know that the higher your arousal, the higher your pain threshold?”
“Hm?”