I held my breath as I waited for what would come next.
Punishment or reward?
I wanted his finger to press inside of me. I wanted so much more than what he was doing. My pussy got wetter as he circled my clit with his fingertip and dipped back into the folds again. My body tensed, but not because I hated what was going on, but because I was afraid of showing just how much I was enjoying it and craving more.
But just as quickly as he had surprised me by placing his finger at the entrance of my pussy, he moved his wet finger to my anus and pressed firmly.
“Submission is part of discipline,” he said huskily. “Humility mixed with some shame.”
I gasped as the tip of his finger breeched my tight hole. The sting and the shock caused me to buck against his hand, which only drove his finger a little deeper into my ass.
“Anthony,” I barely whispered, not sure if I wanted to beg him to stop or beg him to continue on.
“A spanking isn’t the only way to punish naughty girls.”
His finger pressed harder, stretching me wider than I would ever have thought possible.
Deeper.
The heat of my butt from the spanking nowhere compared to the heat radiating from my face from the embarrassment of being over Anthony’s lap with his finger in my ass.
“It hurts,” I squealed as he drove his finger deep within me. “Please, no more.”
Rather than listening to my plea, he began to pump his finger in and out at the same pace he had spanked my bare bottom. A tempo of excruciating, torturous, and yet forbidden pleasure set my body alive.
I hated it.
I loved it.
I wanted it to stop.
But I also wanted it to go further.
I couldn’t decide.
Fortunately, Anthony made the decision for me when he pulled out his finger and continued on with the spanking but with even more force than he had done before the anal fingering.
Anthony was just beginning to lecture when I was starting to think I was going to go crazy from the searing heat he was creating on my ass. It was far more painful than he had been spanking. “When I tell you do to something, I expect you to do it. It’s not as if you didn’t know where you were going to end up if you didn’t obey me, Raychel. I think I made that perfectly clear. All you had to do was go and get a coat. But no, you had to be stubborn. Those born of the Polov bloodline are stubborn to the bone—I should have known you weren’t that different from your father.”
* * *
Anthony
Bringing up Dasha at a time like this probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I couldn’t help it. The comparisons were inevitable. But this was Raychel, who had probably rarely been spanked in her life, if at all. She was sobbing and crying with each swat, and I didn’t want to be too hard on her this time. I was sure, that even quiet as she was, she would get herself into more trouble down the road. I was her guardian now, and I wasn’t going to let her get away with much. There would be a time to be harsher with her, I was sure. And I also couldn’t help but picture how I would fuck her after each time I punished her.
But for now, I gave her twenty additional hard slaps as I watched each red handprint come up through the already pinkened flesh. When I finished, she hung over my legs, and I had to breathe through my urge to plunge my cock into her tight pussy right then and there.
Disciplining a woman was a strange thing. In some ways I found it—aspects of it—unbearably sexy. Having a beautiful young woman over my lap, her bottom revealed and dancing beneath the crack of my hand, the cascade of hair, the enticing wiggle as she tried to get out of what she knew she had coming to her. But the inflicting pain part—that was hard, especially when you cared about the woman you were disciplining, and I was of a mind that if you didn’t care about her, you shouldn’t be touching her like that in the first place.
But I knew that Raychel had a need. I knew she needed someone to watch out for her, for her best interests, even against herself. I knew she needed a strong but gentle hand on her ass at all times—at least to mentally know that it was there—to remind her that she was cared for by someone.
By me.
I had been surprising myself for quite some time, but I guessed I was ready to make a small move toward putting my life into perspective. Dasha was gone. There was no bringing him back. And I knew, from the few, scant, uncomfortable talks we’d had, that he wouldn’t want me to not be in Raychel’s life. He would want me to pick up—after a reasonable amount of time to honor him—and go on and have a great life, and be happy. Even if being truly happy was by being with his daughter.