She didn’t know what her count was but figured five more would suck, so she hastily got to her knees. It took effort to remember his exact instructions from last time but when he nodded curtly at her, she guessed she’d done it right.
He took his time undoing his cufflinks, then rolling up each sleeve. Damn, it tapped into every fantasy that included a suit.
Yes, yes, yes . . . roll those sleeves. His tattoos came into view, and she almost groaned. Was there such a thing as arm porn?
“Bend over the couch,” he ordered.
It took her a few seconds to comply.
“You requested your clothing stay on, and I’ll allow it for now. Keep in mind, I’ll be hitting you harder to make up for it. And if you’re rude to me again, the pants will come down. Is that understood, Kate?”
“Um.” Her throat felt dry. I guess so probably wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good. I want you to count. ‘One, Sir, two, Sir . . . Like that.”
“Okay . . . Sir.” As a second thought, she added, “How many?”
He didn’t answer right away, making her wonder if sometimes Doms didn’t plan everything out and just winged it. “Ten,” he finally said.
That wasn’t so bad. She could take ten.
The first blow stung a burning path across her ass, making her yell and go up on her toes. She hadn’t expected it yet. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be hitting her harder because of the pants. By the deep sting right across the center of both cheeks, she’d guess there’d be a nice big red welt. Fuck. And she had to do ten of these?
“Kate,” he warned.
“Uh. One, Sir.”
The belt whistled through the air, then whap!
Her entire world narrowed to a hyperawareness of every nerve ending in her posterior.
She whimpered. “Two, Sir.”
Whack.
“Ow!” She kicked out a leg and wiggled. This was awful—why did some women like it? “Three, Sir.”
Another landed right on top of the last one, and she squealed.
Punishment officially sucked. “Banner.” It was a whispered plea, but she wasn’t sure for what.
He stopped and for a silly moment, she thought it might be over. The belt fell onto the couch next to where she rested her hands. Relief swept through her, and she exhaled loudly.
“Don’t think I’m done, little one. You’ll get the full ten.”
Fingers edged under her waistband, and she panicked. “No!” She put her hand back to stop him.
He froze. “I’m just checking your skin.”
She thought he might wrestle the pants down, but he didn’t. He just waited. For her safeword? “What if I used my safeword during a punishment? Would you stop?”
“Of course. But if you deserved a punishment, and the one I chose was a hard limit for you, I’d have to think of a different one that matched the infraction. A D/s relationship is based on the Dominant being dominant. The submissive doesn’t get to decide whether they get punished or not. There are consequences for bad behavior.”
That made sense. She’d tested him and deserved every lick she got. It should have filled her with dread, but for some reason it didn’t.
“Are you going to let me check your marks so we can continue?” He paused. “Or are we done for the night?”
She didn’t want to be done, but she didn’t exactly want to finish the next six strokes either. She’d be disappointing herself if she made him stop and it wasn’t really that bad, especially not with her clit throbbing so hard she thought she might die if she didn’t orgasm soon. Leaving to go home and use her vibrator was an option. God, she’d get off in the car or maybe on her way out the door, she was so turned on.
But, no. She needed to finish this.
“Okay.” She placed her hand back on the couch and let him slowly draw her pants down.
Cool air hit her skin, reminding her of the dampness between her legs. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice. He ran his fingertips over her, the alternating tickle and soreness telling her where the biggest welts were. She let out a whimper when he pushed on them, but she wasn’t sure if it was because it hurt or turned her on.
Her cheeks grew hot when she realized she was bent over, pants down, while he stared at her ass. Again. They’d done worse last weekend but this felt different, more intrusive because he was studying marks he’d made on her. His marks. On her body.
Fuck. Why did she like this so much?
A moment later, he pulled her pants back up. She shouldn’t have been disappointed, but she was. She refused to think about what she’d actually wanted him to do. The belt disappeared from her line of vision. She tensed up, preparing for the blow, wanting it at the same time as dreading it. She was so messed up. Did everyone into kink feel this way?
Thwack.
She squealed and rocked forward on the couch. Oh crap. What number were they on?
Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
“That’s five,” he reminded her.
“Oh. Sorry, Sir.”
“Keep going.”
As she counted the next five, her voice got higher each time, and she was on her tippy toes by the end. Her ass felt like it was on fire in big wide streaks. She wanted to look in the mirror, to see the way his belt marks looked on her skin. Was it as sexy as it was in the photos she’d seen online?
Unsure of what to do next, she remained bent over, waiting for his instruction. Behind her, she heard signs that Banner was putting his belt back on.
“Mmm,” he purred. “Good girl.”
“What?”
“You didn’t move.” He took her arm and stood her up to face him. “I’m impressed.”
Embarrassed, but mostly horny, she kept her gaze on the ground and muttered, “I can be good, Sir.”
“Look at me.”
She lifted her eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Was she? Her knees were wobbly, and she could feel every mark of the belt as if it had burned into her flesh, but her clit was throbbing so hard she’d probably faint if he didn’t fuck her soon.
“I’m incredibly horny, Sir.” It surprised her to admit it. Apparently, pain made her tongue loose.
A wicked grin settled on his face. “Are you?”
She nodded, although she didn’t like feeling mocked.
“Good. That usually makes submissives more biddable. Let’s try this again.” He walked her to where they’d been standing before he’d stopped to belt her. “Bend over and grab your ankles.”
This time she didn’t balk. With a sigh, she slowly turned around and did as he said, despite the embarrassment. At least she was clothed.
He smoothed his hand down her back then squeezed both globes of her ass, making her groan. Hadn’t he already inspected there enough?
Boldly, as if he owned her, he ran his palms up the sides of her thighs. She felt like a horse being assessed for breeding or something. She let out a breath of air which blew her hair away from her face.
“Bored?” he asked, still poking and groping her.
“A little. Looking at the floor is only so interesting.”
“Stand up.”
When she did, she got woozy from the head rush.
He steadied her with a hand on her elbow. Once she nodded that she was fine, he continued his work. Hand under her chin, he tipped her head up and studied her face, then her ears and neck. She fought the urge to spout sarcastic comments, but she had no desire to earn another belting. At least not while her ass was still throbbing.
His movements were gruff at times, gentle at others. When he pushed her hair from her face, he was tender about it. Then he shoved his hand between her legs.
She hissed in a breath and tried not to move, even though her body was desperate for more. In about half a second he found her clit and rubbed it. The thin fabric didn’t provide her with any protection from the sensation.
“You’re wet.”
You don’t say, Master Investigator. It took her a moment to get control of her tongue. “Yes, Sir. I think you know why, Sir.”
He smirked. Cocky bastard.
Just when she was about to grind up against his hand, he withdrew it.
Ugh! “Are we done yet?” She tried not to sound whiny, but she couldn’t take much more of this. Not without making a serious attempt at jumping his bones. And that would end up with them both naked and in bed together again, which she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do.
“We’re done when I say we’re done,” he answered. “As a Dom, it’s my right to inspect my property anytime and anyplace I want to. The kitchen in the middle of dinner. A deserted hallway at your best friend’s wedding. In the dungeon—”
“Dungeon?” He couldn’t possibly have a real dungeon.
“Yes. Subs are definitely inspected in my dungeon.”
“Like, a for-real, legit dungeon? Here, in your house?”
His answering smile was wicked. “Yes, but I’m not sure you’re ready to see it.”
She scoffed, then narrowed her eyes. Who was he to tell her what she was ready for? That was a challenge if she’d ever heard one. “I’m not scared. I want to see it.”
“How did I know you’d say that?” He sighed, then turned on his heel. “Follow me, then, brave girl.”
When she stepped in line with him, he stopped. “Ah, ah. A sub walks behind her Dom. Eyes down unless he tells her otherwise.”