“I never lost my appetite,” I growled. “I just grew tired of the same old menu. This doesn’t mean we’re ok, Faye. We’re far from fucking ok.”
“Call this fucking therapy, then.” She was a demon with her ten. Hard and fast without pause for recovery. My thighs burned hot, but I didn’t even flinch, sucking up the pain as fuel.
I took down the paddle. English Oak. This time we were up close and personal. I took hold of her hair, holding her in position as I punished the smooth globes of her ass. The sound of wood against skin was fucking divine.
She hissed and flailed, but showed no sign of breaking. I kept going, harder. The rhythmic thwack of her punishment as soothing as a fucking lullaby. “That’s more than fucking ten, Andy...”
“I’ll take exactly the same, don’t you fucking worry.”
Her ass jiggled under the assault, patches darkening from pink through crimson. Her breath was coming in short sharp gasps, and the musky scent of her pussy made me heady. Her thighs were slick when I stopped.
“Fifty. Your turn.”
“Bend fucking over. Touch your fucking toes,” she snapped. “This is going to hurt.”
She wasn’t lying. She hit the same spot over and over, just to be a bitch. I groaned and cursed, but I didn’t move from position. The last ten hurt like a motherfucker. I gritted my teeth as I took down the cane, and for a second there was a flash of nerves across her face.
“Ten?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Thirty.”
“Are you fucking mad?”
“I’ll take it first, if you’re wavering.”
She bent over. “Make them fucking good.” She cried out at the first, and louder at the second. “Fucking hell, why are the first ten always such a fucking bitch?”
She squealed through the first twenty, and then she calmed, cresting high. She wrapped an arm around my thigh, and the skin on skin was electric. My cock pulsed so hard it hurt, thick and sore with the need to fuck her.
She stood slowly after her thirty, checking out her welts in the mirror. Streaks of ridged white pain, flecked with blood, and I wanted it, too.
I braced myself against the wall, taking a deep breath. “Make them quick.”
She took them slow. Really fucking slow. I was shaking by the thirtieth, the tender patch of skin where my thighs met my ass ridged so hard I walked with a limp.
Her eyes were wild, feral. She licked her lips, stared at my cock. “What next?” she hissed.
“Free choice...” I dropped the cane and yanked her by the elbow, forcing her back onto the flogging bench until her pretty bruised tits were presented up for me. She read my mind and groaned. “Oh God, yes...”
Ten slaps on bruised skin. Nipples so fucking sweet against my palms. My cock was pressed into her belly, and she squirmed so tight I could’ve shot my fucking load all over her. I pinched the gorgeous little buds between my fingers, rolled them hard. She bucked and moaned and begged for more.
“It’s your fucking go,” I said. “Your turn.”
But she was too far gone. The victory should have been sweeter than it felt, lost among the mist. “I don’t want a turn...” she said.
I squeezed her tits so hard she bit her lip. “You give in?”
“Not to the pain...” she rasped. “To you... please, Andy, for God’s sake, for my sake, for our sake, just fucking fuck me.”
I pulled on the rings between her legs, a short sharp tug that made her squeal before I found her clit. “You planned this, didn’t you, all the way back from fucking Italy, you sneaky little bitch?”
“Will you stop if I say yes?” Dark eyes bore into mine, pupils so dilated I could see my own reflection.
“No...”
“Then yes... yes, I planned this... I fucking wanted this...”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” I lifted her clean off her feet as my cock slammed into her. She wrapped her arms around my neck. “I’m so fucking pissed off, Faye.”