Typist #2 Spanking the Billionaire Novel(15)

“Oh, really.”

“Go get your hair brush,” he said.

My eyes widened and I swallowed hard. Spanking? From the look on his face, I was to be the spanked one this time.

My mouth opened, but then closed without a peep. My nerves tingled, excitement and fear running through me. The skin over my whole body tightened, and I became aware of the hardness in my nipples and the heat in my pussy.

I ran to my room and quickly freshened myself up with a washcloth in my bathroom. The sensation of the nubby cloth on my erogenous areas felt so good. I gave my teeth a quick brushing, grabbed the wood hairbrush, and left my room. I kept on the blue dress, but left my panties behind. All the better for spanking.

When I got to Smith's bedroom, the lights were very dim, with a shirt of his draped over the only table lamp that was lit. He was absolutely motionless, sitting on the edge of his bed. He had his shirt and socks off, but his jeans still on, and he looked like the poster boy for masculine sexiness.

“Young lady!” he said, his voice so loud and authoritative, it startled me.

“Yes?” I alternated between crossing my legs and arms, as awkward as a schoolgirl.

His voice stern, he said, “I understand you've been a naughty girl.”

“Maybe.” Even though I knew he was playing around, my fear was still real.

“You let a boy feel you up in public today.”

I gulped. “Yes,” I said meekly, feeling the shame rise up like a tide.

“You let him finger you in a crowded park. And then, you did something even more wicked.”

“Yes.” I dropped down to my hands and knees and began to crawl toward him.

His voice booming, he said, “Tell me what wicked thing you did.”

I crawled to his feet and stopped there, resting my cheek on his knee.

“I went into the alley with a boy.”

He stroked my hair. “Did the boy force himself upon you?”

“Yes.”

He grabbed a lank of my hair and tugged it. “Now, now, Tori.”

“He didn't force me. I wanted it.”

He let go of my hair and stroked my head again, as he leaned forward and took the brush from my hand.

“Stand up and lift your skirt,” he said. “Tell me what it felt like when he spread your legs in the alley.”

I got to my feet, feeling shaky on my legs once more. Trembling, I lifted my skirt to my waist, showing him my bare bottom.

Something touched my flesh—his mouth. He kissed the upper part of my buttock and gently bit it.

“Oh,” I moaned.

His mouth was replaced by the hard brush, slapping against my skin.

My breath caught in my throat, tears rushing to my eyes, but not spilling over.

“Your skirt!” he ordered. “Don't drop it again!”

My hands had flown up, and were crossed over my throat. Hands shaking, I reached down and pulled up my skirt again.

“There's my girl.” His mouth pressed down on my flesh again, the pleasure so sweet and welcome. “How did he make you feel? When he pushed his way inside you?”

“Good.”

The brush smacked against my ass, but this time I moaned, because it felt as good as his kiss. Smith touching me was all I wanted, no matter how gentle or firm, whether it stung or not.

I caught my breath and said, “He made me feel good.”

He smacked me again, the slap reverberating through the dark room. “You can do better.”

“He set my pussy on fire. I wanted him to fill me up, but I can never get enough of him.”

“Are you wet right now?”

“Why don't you touch me and find out?”

“I have a better idea. Don't turn around. Stay like that.”

I heard rustling behind me.

His voice low and softer now, Smith said, “How many more spankings do you want?”

“Five,” I said, the number coming out before I'd given it any thought.

He chuckled, then brought the hairbrush down with a resounding smack.

I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees, ready for the sensation.

He smacked one buttock, on the side, then the other, then another strike squarely in the middle.

I whimpered and leaned over more.

A finger swept up between my legs, feathering its way between the lips of my pussy. The finger slid forward to my clit and swept over once, then withdrew. I moaned and shuddered with fear and pleasure.

The hairbrush landed one last time, on my right buttock. There was nothing but the sounds of both of us breathing, then he tossed the brush. It landed several feet away from me, but I was still tense with the expectation of more.

Hands on the sides of my hips pulled me back, pulled me onto Smith's lap, and then guided me onto him. The head of his erection slipped easily into my opening, and I gasped as he pulled me all the way down to him.