It really is the most perfect sight.
Almost an open invitation.
My fingers itch to push aside the ridiculous string and enter her pussy. What would she do? Scream blue murder, no doubt. And that wouldn’t be a bad thing. Hell, I’d love to fuck this woman spitting and hissing. I don’t think I’ve ever been with such a haughty bitch before. Even the thought has me salivating, but I’ve got to pretend that this is about chastisement and not pleasure.
‘You will count the blows or they will not register,’ I tell her, my voice dead detached.
She freezes and around my palm gooseflesh begins to form on her perfect skin.
‘Get on with it,’ she grates.
I smile to myself. Ah, Layla, you’re so fuckin’ transparent, so perfectly predictable. She is determined to get through this unpleasant business as soon as possible and never give me the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.
No can do, baby.
I open my fingers on her butt and she tightens her cheeks with anticipation. I can’t help it. My fingers curl and I squeeze the firm flesh. She moans and the unmistakable scent of her arousal hits me like a call during mating season. It’s the kind of smell that can drive a man—well, me anyway—crazy. Heavy, suffocating, insistent. I want to answer it.
Layla Eden may be a snooty, spoilt bitch, but l want to fuck her so bad I’m like those dogs that jump fences and break their legs just because a bitch in heat is passing by on the other side. Hers is the kind of body that I can spend all night, every night, diving into. I want to pick her up like the doll she is, open her legs wide, and suck until her flavor runs over my tongue and coats my throat. Hours later, when she is passed out cold, I want to be able to swirl my tongue and taste her in my mouth all over again.
A voice in my head urges, Jump the fence then. Break a leg. It’ll heal. She bloody well asked for it. Didn’t she come into your bedroom of her own freewill? But another sane voice is already warning. Even this is madness. What the fuck do you think you’re doing with Jake’s fuckin’ sister? I listen to the sane voice. I have resisted the call of her delicious body off and on over the years. I can do it again.
I could never really decide if I wanted to spank her saucy ass until it was scarlet or fuck her senseless. Now appears both impulses come from the same place. I watch her body. Frozen in place. Tense. Waiting for the flat of my hand.
I will hit her hard, hard enough to successfully convince her that this is a punishment and not the sexual encounter it is. I will be methodical. Each slap will land on a different spot. One cheek, then the other. Under the cups of flesh, and finally, where her thighs meet her body.
I rest the forearm of my left hand across her back and watch her toes curl. A delightfully involuntary response. I raise my hand and hold it suspended high above my head. Ms. Eden’s butt trembles helplessly.
Oh! Yes …
FOUR
Layla
I have never been smacked or beaten in my life. By anyone. Ever. And as soon as the heat from his palm leaves my skin I experience a wild second of pure, unadulterated panic. With my heart pounding like a war drum, I squeeze my eyes shut and prepare myself for the blow, but nothing happens.
What seems like an age passes.
Just as I think he has changed his mind after all, and relief starts pouring into my body, I feel him pull away slightly and a subtle disturbance in the air above me as his palm hurtles through it.
Thwack! His hand, heavy and hard, lands on my flesh.
I make no sound at all. First, I am absolutely determined not to give this vile beast of a man the satisfaction of a reaction. Second, the blow does not immediately register as painful. But a moment later I feel the effect. My eyes widen and my mouth opens in a silent O. By God, that really hurt! Tears of mortification well up in my eyes. I have to squeeze my eyes closed to try and prevent them from dropping.
He pauses. ‘I’m waiting for a number,’ he reminds me casually.
A number? What a sadistic bastard. He has no heart, this man. A hot needle of hatred for my tormentor stabs through me. I open my mouth. Shockingly nothing comes out. I try again. A totally unrecognizable shallow gasp exits.
‘One.’
Almost immediately his hand crashes again onto my skin, but this time I feel the searing pain straight away. Bravely, I suck in my breath. Other than calling out in a trembling voice, ‘Two,’ I make no sound to express the fiery agony I am in. I have never suffered such pain in my entire sheltered life.
Another blow slams down and I bite back a scream. Even though each stroke has hit a different place, they all serve to build on the existing burn. My bottom feels like it is on fire. I press my palms so hard into the floor to refrain from wriggling and squirming or covering my bottom that my knuckles show bone white.