His hands left my pussy and settled on my ass again, kneading the soft skin until it warmed and tingled. I tried not to squirm. The vibrator was perfectly tuned—just enough stimulation to drive me insane, but never actually get me off. Distracted, I wasn't ready for his first spank.
Smack. I jerked forward, my mouth opening. The blow had nudged the vibrator against my clit and G-spot. My left cheek burned with the paradox of pleasure and pain that I'd become addicted to. Smack. Smack. A moan burst from deep in my chest. At this rate, I was going to come before we ever got to the fun part. But that didn't matter—Ford could wring one orgasm after another from me. Even alone, I'd never come so many times in a row as I did with him. Just the knowledge that he was nearby made me ready for action.
After a half dozen spanks on each cheek, I was a shuddering mess. My ass was on fire. My thighs were slick with sweat and my own juices.
“Such a good girl.” Ford purred. “Are you ready for the hard stuff?”
“Yes, sir. Please.” I moaned. I forced myself to relax just as the paddle came whistling down. It cracked over both butt cheeks at once.
Holy mother of God. He had spanked me with his hand plenty of times, but this was on a whole other level. Tears sprang to my eyes and I bit my lip. But the painful heat spreading over my ass blended with the heat of pleasure in my pussy and clit, mingling until I couldn't tell which was which. Ford waited just long enough to let the fire die back a little, then struck again. And again. Each blow came faster than the last.
Suddenly all shame fell away. I writhed, grinding against the bed, greedy for whatever sensation I could grab. Behind me, Ford's breath came in grunts of exertion and arousal. I was losing my mind. I wanted him inside me and I wanted him to keep spanking me. I had been kept on the edge for what felt like years and one more touch, one more burning slap, one more anything, would toss me over.
The vibrator ground hard, and I screamed into the sheets, sobbing Ford's name. A crash—the paddle hitting the hardwood floor. The bed dipped and a sweaty, muscled body molded itself to mine. His heart beat a wild tattoo on my back. He yanked the vibrator out and filled the sudden emptiness with his cock. I yelped even as I arched into him, unbearably sensitive yet hungry for more. My second orgasm was already building right on the heels of the first. His savage, punishing thrusts coiled the pit of my belly tighter and tighter. His hips slapped against my sore ass, sending shocks of pleasure-pain through me. With a growl, he bit into the crook of my neck, and my whole body spasmed apart again as his cock pulsed inside me.
I felt an odd loss when he pulled away to untie my limbs. And the scariest thing was I knew my experiences with him had ruined me for other men. Vanilla sex would no longer hold a candle to the wicked things Ford had shown my body. The blindfold slithered off my eyes and I blinked at the sudden brightness. “Can you talk yet?” Ford asked, searching my face.
I opened my mouth to say of course I can—and found that I couldn't. My eyes went wide. Wow. I'd had no idea that anything could be so intense.
Mistaking my amazement for panic, Ford stroked my hair. “Ssh, it's okay. Just rest.” A trace of that hypnotic Dom note still lingered in his voice. He sat back against the headboard and gathered me close to his side. Without moving the arm that held me, he leaned over to grab a water bottle from the bedside table. “Can you drink? Or should I hold it for you?”
The idea had a certain appeal, but my pride won out. I nodded and took the bottle from him. When the water touched my tongue, I realized that I was dying of thirst. Soon I had gulped down half the bottle. I passed it back to him and he replaced it on the table. “You want something to eat?” he asked.
“Mm … no,” I mumbled, snuggling back against his warm body. “Jus' tired.”
Ford chuckled. “Yeah, I bet. You got the daylights spanked out of you.” He looked down at me, his expression possessive and almost affectionate. Or was that just my wishful thinking? Not having the energy to puzzle over it, I turned away to rest my flushed face on his abs.
“You were amazing, sweetheart,” he continued after a minute. I felt the vibrations of his deep voice on my cheek. “At the risk of spoiling you, I'm impressed.”
A sigh of contentment escaped me. His fingers slid through my hair again, then moved on to petting my back as if I were a cat—long, broad strokes that were soothing rather than exciting. My head rose and fell with his slow breaths.
I didn't mean to stay. But I felt so drained, and his caresses were so gentle … I was asleep before I knew it.
* * *
The next morning, we wolfed down a pair of huge omelets—we were both starving after last night's exercise. Afterward, though, we dawdled with our coffee together. My whole lower body was pleasantly sore, and I still felt the bite mark where Ford had claimed me as his.