Rod of Correction_ Taken and Tamed(31)

Naturally, his hands gravitated towards her inner thighs, and up, settling right back to where they had been while they were on the couch, and she was even less able to keep her guard up against feeling every sensation he conjured within her. She was in grave danger of coming if he kept that up, although she had a feeling tht her bottom wouldn’t survive blatantly disobeying him like that.

Luckily, he seemed to sense how close she was and arose, lifting her out of the tub to stand next to him, huddled close in the chill night air, and let him dry her off as if she were a treasured child, drying every little bit of her – and some places twice – then patiently rubbing her hair almost dry. He took her hand and brought her back into the house, then lifted her into his arms and upstairs to his bedroom, which he had also decorated with candles and flowers snatched from some of the centerpieces and decorations she’d seen around the house. The bed was stripped down to the fitted sheet; the covers lumped into a corner of the room, out of the way.

She didn’t have time to wonder what that was for, because when he set her down, her feet sunk into the carpeting at least a good half an inch as he kissed her passionately, holding her tight and bending her back over his arm in his eagerness. She returned his kisses with pure abandon, glad that he hadn’t ordered her to put her hands somewhere else, and indulging an aching need to touch him. That had been largely thwarted the entire time they’d been together – which was hard to think was going to be less than two days, and was going to come to an end in a few short hours.

She slid her fingers into the short hair at the back of his head, using them to hold his mouth to hers as much as she dared, then trailing greedily down over his shoulders to the feel the fine chest hair that was barely visible against his tanned skin, crunching it beneath her finger tips, seeking and finding his small, pebble-hard nipples.

His hands shot out to gather her wrists at the small of her back. “I want to touch you!” she wailed with such emphatic gusto that he laughed.

He cupped her face in his hands. “I know you do, and I want you to, believe me, but I have something planned for tonight and if I let you do that I’ll be asleep in fifteen minutes because I won’t be able to resist fucking you, and you wear me out.”

How could she argue with an explanation like that?

He took a step back, away from her, and said, “Bend over.”

He was surprised he hadn’t resorted to the more usual, “Assume the position.” She did as she was told without hesitation, without argument. If there was one thing this weekend had taught her, it was that he meant to be obeyed at all costs.

Every time she did this, she thought she was getting over the sheer humiliation of the position, bare bottom facing him, fingers touching the carpeting between legs she was required to spread to an obscene degree, and every time she did it, she blushed as fire-engine red as she had the first time.

This was a bit different, because he got down behind her on one knee and looked at her, scrutinizing her, even going so far as to reach between her thighs and pull her lips open, exposing – and embarrassing – her completely.

She was further mortified that she couldn’t suppress a slight whimper as he did this, thus letting him know how it affected her.

“Oh, come now, Sunny. You’ve had to do this from the start. Surely it’s gotten easier for you,” he said, emphasizing his point by patting her right directly on the spot he had just been examining so minutely.

Then, instead of letting her up as he’d done usually, he began, instead, to swat her bottom – a bottom that was softened by all that time in the tub, and was, despite his efforts, must still have retained a certain amount of moisture, because that was the only thing that would account for just how much worse each spank was than ever before. She’d seen warnings on blogs and websites that being punished on a wet behind was order of magnitude worse than on dry flesh.

Rod, of course, wouldn’t consider that – or he might, and then just ignore it. Regardless, his hand rose and fell with clockwork regularity, until a pool of tears stained the carpet beneath her face.

He pulled her open again, saying nothing, just staring at her while she waited for him to release her from this unbearable position. He wasn’t spanking any longer, but he might as well have been, with the after-effects of her scorched behind – the aching, throbbing burn, as if a thousand tiny fires had been lit on each inch of skin he’d turned to an uncomfortable looking – and feeling – crimson.

Having apparently achieved what he wanted, he helped her up, bringing her to the bed and telling her to stretch out on it. When he joined her, he rolled her towards him and kissed her again, even more deeply than before, his hands roaming at will, reaching down to cup her sizzling buttocks and lift her towards him – although he didn’t really have to do much of that, because she was desperate to get away from the way his groping hands squeezed her ravaged flesh – or wandering lazily further up to claim a breast and its hardened prize, occasionally dipping his head down to suckle strongly, drawing it into his mouth while continuing to flick the very tip of it. He held her top arm to her side so that she couldn’t interfere, and all she could do – besides the mewling that seemed to be constant and consistent whenever he touched her even after such a thorough punishment – was pant and writhe in a very stifled manner within his restrictive hold.