I realize I'm asking her to do something damn near physically impossible, but I know it can be done, and if she desires to please me as much as she purports, then she'll do it.
With her creamy white ass at my hip level, I smooth the palm of my hand across her soft hide. It's flawless. Pale. Unmarked.
Whack!
Until now.
Whack!
"Count, Bellamy," I remind her. "And don't let it fall."
Whack!
A blush of redness spreads across her left cheek, so I give it a rest and smack the other. Three more on the right cheek and then I alternate. Back and forth. Back and forth. Faster. Quick zings. Brusque blows that surely sting.
Whack!
She doesn't complain. She doesn't utter her safeword. I keep going, resisting the urge to run my hand along the red welts to offer a temporary moment of relief. That's not what this is about, and she's yet to earn such a privilege.
Her bent position allows for her skin to stretch slightly, making it all the more sensitive against the swift spankings.
" … forty-five … .forty-six … " she says through clenched teeth.
An inch of graduated base of the glass cock slips out of her.
I cease the paddling for just a moment. "It's falling out, Bellamy. You're not holding it in tight enough. Clench tighter."
"I'm trying," she heaves, her face winced. "Keep going, keep going."
"We're only halfway there. You think you can keep it in?" I drag my hand lightly down the curve of her spine before grazing her warm ass and cupping my hand over the base of the dildo. "I could push this in for you if you wanted … "
"Please," she begs. "Please push it in."
"And why should I do that?"
"Because I want to please you." She tugs against the restraints. "And because it feels so good. I want all of it inside me."
Her thighs shake and unclench for a second. The cock falls out another inch.
"Oh, Bellamy." I tsk, tsk her. "What are we going to do?"
I breathe in her sweet arousal, and my cock swells.
"Please, please push it in," she begs, sucking in a breath and refusing to let it go. She's stuck anticipating my next move, and even I don't know yet what I'm going to do.
I hook my hand around her neck, gripping it just enough to let her know every part of her is in my hands. I pull back against her soft flesh and lean into her ear, nibbling the lobe.
"As much as I'd love to help you out right now," I whisper. "I'm a man of my word, and I wouldn't be doing either of us any favors."
I release her neck, and she tucks her chin against her chest, gasping for air. My hand snakes around her stomach, reaching between her legs and flicking the dildo just enough that she feels it move inside her. Her inner thighs are slicked, coated with wetness.
"Are you ready to continue?" I ask.
She nods vehemently, her blonde hair curtaining her face. With white knuckles, she juts her ass out toward me again, her legs buckling and squeezing like her life depends on it.
Whack!
"Breathe," I remind her. "Breathe and count."
The paddle slaps her skin with quick, fluid movements, and she counts through gritted teeth.
"Eighty … seven … " she says. "Eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety … ninety-one."
She collapses against the wall, and the dildo falls to the ground. I retrieve it, rolling the hot, slick glass in my palm.
"You did well." I set it aside and untie her wrists, and she heads toward her crumpled clothes on the floor. "What are you doing?"
"Oh." She freezes. "I thought you were done?"
"I'll tell you when I'm done."
My gaze falls on her pink, pert nipples, and I drag the palm of my hand across each one until her eyes squeeze tight. Two perfect peaks. I step into her space, backing her up against a nearby wall and pushing my knee between her thighs until her stance is widened. Her knees shake, whether she's fatigued or aroused or both, I don't particularly care. My hand glides up her thigh and curves between her center until my fingers find her arousal. I slick a finger between her folds, feeling her stomach contract against me, and then I bring it to my mouth, tasting what my power does to her.
I guaran-fucking-tee she's waiting for me to part her legs and run my tongue along her cleft, offering her a sweet release.
But that's the whole point.
I'm not going to do that.
She has to earn her release.
I step aside, heading to the bathroom to run her a hot shower in my office en suite. I'm not particularly in a touchy-feely mood, and I'm not sure I have the strength not to fuck the shit out of her mouth or pussy if her naked body presses against me for too long.
When I return, she's fallen to the floor again. Her hair covering her face and her thighs squeezing and releasing.
"Uncomfortable?" I ask.
She bites her lip. "Yes. I though there'd be more."
"Oh." I take her hand and pull her up, trying not to smile. "Yeah, no. Not today."
"Not … today? Not even later today?"
"No." I escort her into the bathroom, pulling a warm gray towel from the warming drawer and placing it on the counter. "Clean yourself up. And absolutely, under no circumstances, are you allowed to touch yourself. Understand?"
Her throat bobs and her lips press into a straight line. "Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Master."
I leave her to shower, intentionally keeping the door open while I return to my desk in hopes of actually getting some real fucking work done.
My desk phone rings before I have a chance to finish typing the email I'm in the middle of.
"Yes, Marlene."
"Um, I'm so sorry to bother you." Her tone is hushed. "There's a gentleman here asking to see Bellamy. Is she in there with you, by chance?"
"Send him to her office." I hang up.
***
"Can I help you?" My question startles a man with sandy blond hair who's helping himself through Bellamy's closet, examining her wardrobe with a tight clench in his jaw.
He hangs a dress up and backs away, surrendering his hands in the air.
"This is my girlfriend's office," he says, as if it could excuse his snooping.
"No. It's not."
The asshole clears his throat and hooks his hands on his hips like he's the one who should be annoyed with me.
"Bellamy Miller," he says. "Her name's on the door."
"Right."
"She's … my girlfriend."
"No. She's not." My neck stiffens, and my fists ache with an urge to smack him across his smug little face.
"Look, man, I don't know who you are, but I think you're confused." This royal douche, Cortland I believe his name is, flashes a smile like we're all of a sudden a couple of chums. "We're getting married this year."
"You're not."
Cortland laughs.
"You find humor in this?" I ask, clearly not laughing.
"I think you need help, buddy."
I close the space between us, striding toward him until it's abundantly clear I've got several inches on him, and I glance down my nose.
"Here's the deal," I say. "You and Bellamy are over. She doesn't want to be with you. She's not going to marry you. And you're not going to tell her father a fucking thing because just like you were so easy to threaten her reputation, I'm about to threaten yours. McGregor, right?"
He scratches above his temple. "Yeah."
"Dad is Walter?"
His brows furrow.
"You're AUB, like Bellamy's family. Your father is a medical equipment distributor."
"What the hell?"
The day this bastard dropped her off, I had security nab the footage and zoom in on the plates, which I promptly forwarded to my guy. Everything about this asshole came up clean, but I'll be damned if I don't use what little information I have to bend him into submission.
"Your father's biggest client is Premier Care Systems, a medical corporation that runs several metro area clinics and the largest teaching hospital in the state." I brush a speck of lint from my sleeve. "Premier Care Systems is headed by Micah Bergmann, who's a heavy supporter of every piece anti-polygamy legislation and every anti-polygamy bill that crosses the desks on Capitol Hill, state and federal. He has deep pockets, vast connections, and he happens to be a very good friend of mine."
"What's your point?"
"One phone call, Cortland. One phone call is all it would take for your father's little empire to come crumbling down." I fold my arms. "There goes your father's business, your job, your brothers' jobs, and your family's livelihood."
"You're crazy."
"Am I, Cortland? Because I have to ask, are you crazy enough to destroy everything your father has ever worked for because you're a spoiled lap dog refusing to release his toy?"
His mouth parts but nothing comes out. He shakes his head and glances out the window. I'd assume he's trying to gather his thoughts, but I'm certain his head is full of mostly dead space and memorized You-Porn videos.
"I want to see her. I want to hear her tell me she doesn't want to be with me. I'm not going to be broken up with by some arrogant asshole in a three-piece suit who walks around like he's better than everyone."