Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
D ylan
The way Andrea melted into my arms had driven away my last lingering doubt about spanking her on Main Street. On the quick ride home, whenever I glanced over at her blushing, tearstained face, I found her eyes fixed on my face, a look of humble submission in her own gaze that warmed my heart—and hardened my cock along my thigh.
“Can we…” she started, just before we pulled into Devin’s driveway. “Can we visit the… the farm with the, you know, the veal?”
My brow furrowed as I tried to see into her thoughts.
“Now?” I asked.
Andrea laughed at that, the silvery sound filling the cab of the truck and dissipating the lingering tension from our intense experience at the restaurant.
“No,” she said. “Just… sometime. I mean… if they really are humane, then, you know…”
It was my turn to laugh.
“Sure,” I said. “And then I’ll take you back to the Trattoria for osso buco .”
Her cheeks had gone bright pink. I thought I could read, in the shadow that seemed to cross her brow for a moment, that she hadn’t gotten rid of the inner conflict I could tell she felt. Not all of it anyway. But then the smile broke out on her pretty mouth again.
“I’d like that.”
I pulled the truck up in front of the big farmhouse. Andrea reached for the door handle.
“Hold on,” I told her. She looked back at me, her eyes wide, as if fearful I might punish her again. I hadn’t spoken sharply, but I could see that Andrea’s lovely body had responded like a live wire to the stimulus of my voice. I felt the hardness in my pants jump at this sign of a connection between us.
“Yes?” she asked.
Purely out of instinct, I pushed a little further, tilting my head a bit and intensifying my gaze. Andrea swallowed visibly.
“Yes, sir?” she whispered.
“Good girl,” I told her, smiling again and then watching her own mouth curve upward at the praise. A surge of warmth filled my chest, and at that moment I knew it for sure—I had fallen hard for Andrea Jacobsen. But where we went from here didn’t seem entirely clear to me, given the complexity of her reaction to life in Cato.
“I’d like to take you up to your bedroom,” I told her frankly.
Andrea started to chew on her lower lip, looking intently into my eyes. The blush in her cheeks grew darker in the red glow of the setting sun.
“What… what does that mean?” she asked.
“I think you know what it means,” I replied, refusing to let her off the hook. I could see in her blue eyes that she definitely did know. I had not the slightest doubt that Ethan had made use of his associate privileges to enjoy that sweet mouth with his cock.
The pink tip of Andrea’s tongue slipped out of her mouth, as if despite her mind’s efforts her body wanted to prepare itself for the service she knew she must give. I didn’t want to demand that service, though, or at least not in the way I felt certain Ethan had. I wanted to help her resolve the conflict I could see troubling her eyes.
“Could we…” she started. “Could we maybe just, you know, cuddle? And maybe… like, kiss?”
I smiled as gently as my raging erection would allow.
“We’ll start there, sweetheart. But if you let me take you up to your bedroom, there are only two ways it can end.”
Andrea’s eyes went very wide.
“Wh-what do you mean?” she whispered. I thought I could see her pulse jump in her throat, even in the fading light.
“With my cock in your mouth, or with you over my knee with your panties down for another spanking,” I said matter-of-factly, studying Andrea’s face intently to gauge her reaction.
Her lips parted, but for a moment no sound came out. Then she breathed, “You’d… make me?”
I nodded slowly. “Yes, sweetheart. If I have to, I’ll make you suck my cock like the good girl I know you can be.”
Andrea
A few minutes later Dylan’s big hand, on my bottom, propelled me gently into my bedroom. We had said a brief hello to Devin and Greta, who were watching TV in the den. To my relief, Dylan hadn’t said anything to Devin about my misbehavior in the restaurant or the humiliating consequences he had imposed.
Standing in the middle of the room, I turned to Dylan, my breath hitching in my throat as I caught sight again of just how handsome my suitor was. The soreness from my spanking in the truck had gone away completely, but the memory lingered insistently both in my mind and, worse, down there where that strong hand had corrected my faults. I wondered if something about the training panties had the property of making a girl’s bottom and pussy extra sensitive, or extra receptive, or something, to old-fashioned discipline.
“Will…” I started, and then I saw that same look in Dylan’s eye that he had fixed me with in the truck, and with a flutter of my heart and a hard swallow I corrected myself. “Sir… will the other guests at the restaurant… will they…?”
“Gossip?” Dylan asked. “I don’t think so. People in Cato generally mind their own business, especially the older folks. You’re worried about Devin and Greta hearing?”
I nodded silently.
“Even if they did hear from a neighbor,” Dylan replied seriously, “they would trust my decision not to report you to them. I told you that you’re forgiven, and I meant it.”
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. Dylan had respected my concern and answered it. More important, he had made clear an element of life in Cato that I hadn’t really yet appreciated. Spankings hurt, and they were embarrassing. I felt certain whippings were even worse, in that department. But once they were over, they were over. You got to move forward. I had paid fully for my childishness in the restaurant, and now I had the chance to show I could put it behind me.
The idea of what moving forward meant, though, here alone in my bedroom, made my tummy flip. The memory of Ethan’s hands on my shoulders and his rigid penis in my mouth rose into my mind. I felt my smile fade as I looked at Dylan, wondering what he meant to do—hoping and fearing at the same time.
I realized abruptly that I had unconsciously put my right hand behind me, over my bottom, as if to ward off the punishment for my refusal to pleasure him. It had sunk in on some level deeper than conscious thought: subservient girls of the Weathers household had no choice but to do that for an associate, or get their bare bottoms spanked.
No choice.
Dylan stepped toward me and took me into his arms. He put one hand on the small of my back and the other on my rear end. I let out a sob and melted into him, feeling all resistance leave my body.
The hand on my back moved higher, to cradle my head and to turn it gently to the side so that Dylan’s handsome mouth could meet mine. He kissed me softly, and then more urgently, his tongue dominating my mouth as if he meant to prepare me for my shameful service.
I felt certain I knew what would come next, and I readied myself for it. Dylan’s hands would go to my shoulders, pressing me to my knees. He would probably do it more gently than Ethan had, but it would happen that way, and I felt some pride that I could prepare myself—more, I felt confident about my ability to give Dylan pleasure and allow him to release the day’s tension, some of it my fault, inside my soft mouth.
It didn’t happen like that at all, though. When Dylan broke the kiss, he murmured in my ear, “I’m going to put you on your bed and taste you now, sweetheart. I’ve been waiting to sample the flavor of that adorable little pussy since your first night here.”
My heart raced as his words sank in. The thought of him kissing me, licking me down there made me blush furiously, a wave of heat spreading across my face and down my neck. Even the humiliating inspections by Devin and Greta hadn’t embarrassed me as much as this. To have Dylan’s face so intimately close, his tongue exploring my most private place… it felt like too much to bear.
“No, please,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I… I can’t.”
But Dylan’s hands were already at the zipper of my dress, slowly drawing it down my back. He peeled the fabric away, leaving me trembling in just my training bra and panties. Before I could protest further, he had scooped me up in his strong arms, cradling me against his chest as he carried me to the bed.
The mattress dipped beneath me as Dylan laid me down gently. His hazel eyes roamed over my body, dark with desire. “Hold your legs open wide for me, Andrea,” he commanded, his voice deep in his chest.
A jolt of arousal shot through me at his authoritative tone. My body responded instinctively, even as my mind reeled with embarrassment. Slowly, hesitantly, I parted my thighs, exposing the damp patch on my training panties.
“Wider,” Dylan urged, his large hands coming to rest on my inner thighs. “Hold your knees back. Show me that pretty pussy.”
Whimpering softly, I complied, spreading my legs further, feeling utterly open and bare. The air moving over my heated skin made me acutely aware even through the panties of how wet I had become. My cheeks burned anew with shame, but I couldn’t deny the ache of need building between my legs.
Dylan’s fingers traced along the edge of my panties, sending shivers down my spine. “So beautiful,” he murmured. “And so responsive. You’re soaking your underwear, naughty girl.”
I turned my face away, mortified by his words and by my body’s betrayal. But Dylan gently cupped my cheek, turning me back to meet his gaze.
“Don’t be ashamed, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Your body knows what it needs, even if your mind isn’t quite there yet. It’s time to learn how good it can feel to let a man have his way.”
Dylan’s fingers danced lightly over the fabric of my training panties, tracing the much-too-visible outline of my pussy lips. Through the thin material, his touch sent sparks of pleasure coursing through me. I couldn’t help but squirm under his ministrations, my hips lifting slightly off the bed.
“Look how wet you are for me, Andrea,” Dylan breathed. “Your little pussy is begging for attention.”
I was torn between the desire to close my legs and hide my shame, and the growing need to press myself more firmly against his teasing fingers. Dylan’s other hand came to rest on my inner thigh, gently but firmly keeping me spread open for his perusal.
“It’s incredibly arousing, you know,” he continued, his eyes fixed on the damp patch spreading across my panties. “For a man to see a woman’s body respond like this. To know that I have this effect on you.”
His thumb found my clit through the fabric, rubbing slow, deliberate circles. I gasped at the sensation, my back arching involuntarily.
“These training panties are quite ingenious,” Dylan mused, increasing the pressure slightly. “I’ve read about the philosophy behind their design. The way the fabric clings to every curve, how it enhances sensation… it’s all meant to make you more aware of your body’s needs.”
As if to demonstrate, he ran a finger along the edge of the panties where they cut across my hip. The material seemed to tighten in response, molding even more closely to my pussy. I could feel every fold and crease of my most intimate parts, hyper-aware of how naked I was despite still being technically covered.
“The constant friction,” Dylan explained, his fingers never ceasing their maddening exploration, “the way they hug your pussy so snugly… it’s all designed to keep you in a state of low-level arousal. To remind you of your need for a man’s touch.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations and the humiliation of my body’s eager response. But Dylan wasn’t done with his lesson.
“Open your eyes, Andrea,” he commanded softly. “Watch what I’m doing to you.”
Reluctantly, I obeyed, forcing myself to look down at where Dylan’s hand was working between my spread thighs. The sight of his large, masculine fingers moving against the delicate fabric of my panties sent another surge of heat through me.
“See how your pussy is reacting?” Dylan asked, his voice thick with desire. “How it’s practically sucking at my fingers through the material? Your pussy knows what it wants.”
As if to prove his point, he pressed more firmly against my virgin entrance. I could feel myself clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled. A low moan escaped my lips before I could stop it.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Dylan said. “Let yourself feel it.”