Rod of Correction_ Taken and Tamed(6)

But he was nothing if not full of surprises, and he merely leaned back in his chair, his fingers laced behind his head, watching her avidly, hungrily.

Sunny hadn’t blushed like that in years – maybe ever – but she couldn’t seem to stop once she saw just how hungrily he was watching her, her eyes darting to his, then away several times before she’d loosened all the buttons.

“Stop staring at me!” she whined, sounding very much like the brat he’d already pegged her as, thoroughly ashamed of herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

“What makes you think you can give me orders, Sunny?” There was still no anger in his tone, not even impatience, although when he came towards her, she automatically took one step back before she caught herself and reclaimed the ground she had lost. Everything in her wanted to look down, to not meet his eyes, but she forced herself to do just that.

He reached out and cupped the back of that impudent head, holding it still as his free hand travelled from her temple down that only slightly artificially rosy cheek, the delicate neck, a surprisingly fragile collar bone and over the breast she had held his hand to moments ago at the table - only this time he lingered there, cupping it possessively as he let his thumb and forefinger delve beneath the thin covering of her bra to pinch the wicked peak it found there. She squawked unbecomingly and backed away, trying to twist out of his grasp, but finding no avenue of escape.

When he finally released her breast, he could see her hands creeping up to comfort herself, and he cruelly slapped them cruelly away and resumed his physical possession of her, noting with displeasure just how prominent her ribs were. He followed the curve of her waist as it flowed into her hip, roaming eagerly around back to squeeze one thoroughly-roasted cheek, then slipping his hand under the edge of that lacy skirt and moving it around to the front.

“Spread your legs,” he whispered hoarsely.

When she didn’t comply to his satisfaction, moving her feet only slightly apart, he put a foot between hers and swept them wide apart as his hand tightened on her womanhood, his fingers busily storming new territory with a firm hold.

Two thick fingers found their way inside her with humiliating ease, her body having eagerly slickened their way long since, his big thumb claiming a clit that was thoroughly swollen and throbbing - not encouraging its response in the least but rather simply sitting there, atop her, teasing her nearly out of her mind with its lack of movement.

At his rude possession, Sunny sucked in a long breath that sounded a lot like a moan – probably because it was one. She would have leaned forward, against his shoulder, but sensed he wouldn’t allow it.

Instead he used his spare hand to tip her chin up so that her eyes were forced to meet his. “For the next -” he checked his watch, “ – thirty hours or so, this, and every other inch of your luscious body, is mine. I own you. I possess you. And I can promise you that I intend to use you in every conceivable manner that will bring me pleasure.”

With that, he backed away suddenly, resuming his seat and watching her watch him as he brought his moist, Sunny covered fingers to his mouth and licked them fastidiously clean, then flicked them at her to let her know that he was ready for her to continue to divest herself of the little clothing she had left.

Her blouse was just hanging open, so Sunny shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor as she reached behind her to undo the hooks of the all-lace demi-bra, whose color matched her blouse perfectly. She peeled it away with obvious reluctance, almost tearfully. He then heard her take a long, deep breath as if to pull herself together, straightening her shoulders, staring back at him as boldly as he did her, holding the bra away from herself in her finger and thumb, then dropping it onto the blouse as if she didn’t care whether she ever saw it again.

The skirt came off just as casually, until she stood, proud and naked, before him, her hand on her hip, giving him a challenging look he didn’t like at all – at least, not from a submissive.

“Hands at your sides unless I tell you they should be elsewhere,” he bit off.

Somewhat taken aback, she relinquished her come-hither pose and let her hands assume the position he preferred. She had a feeling that the rest of this weekend was going to be spent trying to conform – and even perhaps anticipate – what it was that he might want, to avoid spending any more time getting whacked by that Gawd-awful palm of his.

She hoped that was going to be enough of an impetus for her. She was much more used to being in the position of giving the orders, rather than having to obey them.

“Touch yourself.”

The bravado she’d carried around with her throughout her life deserted her in that moment, to be replaced by a bright pink blush that she could feel suffusing every pore of her body.