Hartford landed two small slaps, barely stinging, to her bottom—one to each upturned cheek. She let out a little gasp of shock, and this time, when she squirmed, it was not because she was trying to get away. As Rex had suspected, a little taste whet her appetite. Her bottom lifted, a silent request for ‘more.’
“In order for a punishment to be truly effective, the receiver must understand why they are being disciplined.” He patted his fingers gently against the pinked skin he had just slapped. “So, Miss Wilson, tell me why you are being punished.”
She squirmed again when he said her name, the formality of his address while she was over his lap with her skirts up around her waist, affecting her as much as feeling his hand touch her skin.
“Because I snuck into your house and… and invaded the privacy of your guests.” The words came out in a rush, only slightly tinged with regret.
Rex grinned.
“Very good, Miss Wilson. I think twenty slaps should do it.”
“Twenty?” she gasped, squirming again. He firmed his grip on her hip, holding her securely against him.
“To each cheek.” He raised his hand and brought it down with a satisfying slapping sound, his cock jerking with appreciation. Miss Wilson bucked against him, but she did not have time to shriek before his hand was descending again, landing with similar vigor on her opposite cheek. Both swats were much harder than the first little taps he had given her, and when she did find her voice again, she let out a lovely shriek that made him smile broadly.
Perfect.
Mary
That bloody hurt!
So much more than the two he had laid down when she’d questioned him. Those had stung almost pleasurably, making her cheeks and insides feel a little warm. By contrast, the short, crisp swats he was now peppering her bottom with were biting, painful, burning slaps. Was his hand made of wood?
“Ow! Ow! Stop, please!”
To her shock, the spanking immediately ceased. Hanging over his lap, panting for breath, tears stung the backs of her eyes. How many swats had that been? Five? Six? And he wanted to do twenty to each side of her poor bottom?
Yet the moment he stopped, a feeling of emptiness opened up inside her, as though she had been promised some delicious treat only to have it taken away after one small nibble. But a spanking was not a delicious treat. It hurt! So why did she feel so denied?
“I can stop now,” Hartford said, his hand coming to rest on her bottom again, his palm even warmer. He rubbed the spot he had been spanking, and a shocking ripple of warmth spread through her core, making her insides clench. “I can stop, escort you to the door, and send you off… and you will never know more.”
Never know more.
Never be invited back. Never know what put that expression of contentedness on so many faces she had seen tonight. Never feel his hands on her again.
Something clogged her throat, but she could not possibly tell him to continue… could she?
“Be brave, petal.” His voice was a whisper, fingers gliding over the skin of her bottom, promising pleasure. The sting had already receded. Surely, she could withstand one spanking in return for… more. “Be brave, and you will have everything you need.”
Mary’s insides quivered, and her bottom tilted up, silently begging for his hand again.
“I need to hear the words, petal.” There was a note of sternness that did not entirely cancel out the gentle quality of his tone. “Tell me to continue.”
She whimpered, but she could not fault his reasoning. Her voice came out as a breathy whisper, barely audible with its plea.
“Continue, please.”
“Good girl.” Another caress of his hand across her bottom as a reward, then his palm lifted again, only to return with a vengeance. Mary cried out as he spanked her, just as hard as before, giving her no quarter.
Wetness spread across her cheeks, tears sliding down her face, and her legs began to kick. She was not counting the swats landing on her burning cheeks—she could not have concentrated, even if she wanted to. It was all she could do to hold back from begging him to stop again.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!
She wailed, a wordless cry that did nothing to stop the assault on her increasingly tender nates, but a strange thing was happening. Even as the pain of the spanking increased, so did an odd sense of gratification, almost pride, at accepting the punishment rather than begging for it to stop again. She had to bite back the pleas, but she managed it.
As suddenly as it began, it was over. The hard slaps stopped, leaving her shuddering, crying, and almost disappointed. Hartford pulled her into a seated position on his lap, easily manhandling her so her cheek was against his broad chest.
She whimpered as her weight came to rest on her bottom, reigniting the burn, but did not protest the comfort he offered.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “You took your punishment very well.”
Pride—it had to be her pride—welled even further, confusing her. Why on earth should she care if she took a punishment well? Yet, she could not deny she did.
A hand slipped under her skirt, sliding up between her legs, and Mary’s thighs parted. She ached. Not just her bottom, but her whole body, and his touch felt so good. It felt even better a moment later when his fingers probed an area she certainly had never allowed a man to touch. She barely touched it.
Thanks to Evie’s descriptions of her own experiences, Mary knew what he was doing. She moaned, shuddering as his fingers slid through the wet folds of her womanhood, parting them, stroking them. Her head tipped back, and his lips met hers, swallowing her whimpers, his tongue sliding into her mouth as his finger moved over an exquisitely sensitive spot.
The burn had spread from her bottom to her loins, turning far more pleasurable than painful. If anything, the slight sting still in her bottom made for an erotic contrast to her growing passion, heightening it further.
Her hands groping for purchase, she clung to the lapels of his shirt as he deepened the kiss, his finger moving to actually slide inside of her. The sensation of being invaded, filled was intense, making her lightheaded. The muscles of her body stretched to receive the digit, which thrust deeper, mimicking the movements of his tongue.
Ecstasy surged, and she cried out, a feeling of hot bliss spreading across her body in golden waves of rapture. She writhed on his lap, clutching him, thighs trapping his hand between her legs as her need reached its ascent, and she fell. His hand rubbed against her, circling, coaxing every last spasm of pleasure from her shocked senses.
It was glorious.
Left trembling in its wake, Mary panted for breath when Hartford finally lifted his lips, his eyes glowing gold, studying her intently. Whatever he saw in her face, he must have liked it, his lips curving in a smile of pure male satisfaction. A small part of her stirred, wanting to prick the balloon of smugness, but she had to admit, it was well deserved.
“Lovely,” he said, lowering his head to brush another light kiss over her lips, his finger withdrawing from her body. Mary watched, fascinated, as he lifted that same finger to his lips and licked the glossy cream coating it. He looked straight at her the whole time, completely unashamed. “And delicious.”
She blushed… and hated herself for it. Wanting to change the subject, she looked down at his lap. Although she could not see the bulge in his pants, in her current position, she could feel it pressing against her thigh.