Chapter 53
Ford
She appears confident, but there’s a reservation in her gait that tells me she’s wary of me, and maybe a little unsure of herself and whether doing what I say will end in handcuffs at her back again.
“Bend over my knee,” I order when she stands before me. My cock is stiffening in my pants at the sheer prospect of having her in my space, on my lap, her scent on my clothes, her voice echoing through the kitchen.
“No, absolutely not.” She recoils as though I’ve slapped her. When she moves to back away, I grip her by the wrist, and she whirls back to face me. I’ve had enough of this attitude of hers.
I won’t force her, but I think she needs this as much as I do. She needs to understand that this is fundamentally me, not a role I was playing for my job.
“Do it,” I implore her, ice cold and commanding. “Lay over my lap with your ass in the air.”
We have a silent stand-off for several moments before she slips out of my grasp, tentatively complying as she drapes herself over my thighs, her ass pointed at the ceiling.
“Grab my ankle with one hand and the chair leg with the other. If this gets to be too much, you have a safe word that I’ll honor. Say it. Say the safe word so I know you understand.”
The answering breath she gives me is ragged, but her voice is strong as she snarls, “Liar.”
Is she calling me a liar? That shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, since it’s technically true.
She stretches her fingers around the supports I offered her, and my hand glides up the backs of her thighs, coasting over the fabric of her trousers, following the natural curvature of her body. I keep my touch light, with only a hint of pressure that will signal what’s to come.
“Do you understand why you’re bent over my lap?” I ask, my voice rough. The prospect of punishing her isn’t nearly as appealing as gifting her with pleasure, but I need her to grasp my seriousness.
I have a lot to hate the FBI for, but assigning me that op is something that I can’t find myself angry about now.
It reacquainted me with Genevieve, and she unlocked a hidden side of myself that I never want to lose.
I couldn’t go back to the old version of myself.
I’m not interested in dominating anyone who isn’t Gen either, not when she’s living under my roof, wearing my ring, using my name.
“I challenged you.”
“‘I challenged you, Sir,’” I correct, squeezing her ass.
“I’ll let that slide, but only once. I’m going to spank you, and you’ll audibly keep count for each of these and thank me at the end.
Make as much noise as you’d like, but any words other than numbers or ‘thank you, Sir,’ are not permitted, unless I ask you a direct question. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” she grits out.
Without further preamble, I bring my open palm down on the fullest part of her ass, and she grunts softly. I ensured that it was hard, but not unmanageable. I don’t know how much pain she can take since we’ve never really had the chance to be together in the way I crave.
There’s time.
“One.”
I swing again, and this time, the blow is harder. She squirms, rubbing against my cock, ensuring that it’s more solid than a brick. “Two.”
The next strike is the most intense, and she cries out, tightening her grip on my ankle. “Three.”
“You trust me,” I state firmly. “You wouldn’t be here, bent over my lap, living in my house if you didn’t. You don’t have to admit that for it to be true.”
She whimpers, refusing to acknowledge my statement, but that doesn’t matter. We both know I’m right.
When I smack her again, her breathing is ragged, and she wriggles against me. “Four.”
I rub her ass through her pants. “Are you enjoying this? If I yank your pants down, will I find you wet?”
She moans softly in response when I tell her, “I think I’d like to find out.”
A gasp flies from her mouth as I reach between us and unfasten her pants, then roughly yank them down to her thighs. As she attempts to grind against my leg, her thighs part just enough to see the large dark spot in the center of her red lace panties.
“Such a slut,” I declare, knowing she has a thing for being degraded, which is more than fine by me, considering I have a thing for saying and doing whatever turns her on. “A mere spanking is soaking your panties.”
Without thinking better of it, I drag a finger down her center, and she groans, shoving her ass higher into the air before I abandon her pussy.
I bring my other hand down, cracking across her ass harder than before, the sound of the crisp smack reverberating through the penthouse, joining her mewls.
As I continue my assault, I find a rhythm intertwining both harder and softer slaps and notice the way the wet spot on her thong darkens.
“Twenty,” she says finally, her voice raspy, and I trail my index finger down her lace-covered pussy once more. “Thank you, Sir.”
Finding her clit, I rub her through the lace until she’s moaning incoherently, her words a jumbled mess, just like her brain. “Have you learned your lesson? Should you get to come?”
“Pl—Please, Sir. I need it.”
“You’re dripping at the thought of being my slutty little cum doll, aren’t you?” I continue making circles over her clit through the fabric. “Go ahead, you can come. Make a mess all over my suit pants.”
She cries out, shrieking my name as she comes with a shudder, her fingers digging into my ankle and one of her shoes clattering to the floor. Everything she does is perfect, even the way she comes. I could observe her unravel a million times and never tire of it.
When she slumps in my lap, her body going boneless, I gather her in my arms and pull her to a sitting position. Cupping her cheek, I stare into her hazel eyes. They’re tender now, no longer holding the mutinous spark from earlier.
“Everything you saw from me was real. You brought the Dominant side of me to life, that wasn’t an act, just as your desire to submit to me was authentic.
” I stroke her face with my thumb. Her eyes have gone glassy, but she doesn’t cry.
“You were made to be mine, Genevieve. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to admit that. ”
She doesn’t reply, just curls into my chest, making my heart squeeze as I breathe in her cherry blossom scent. Pushing to my feet, I carry her to bed, my bed, where she belongs.