Chapter 6 #2
“I want you to bend yourself over the bed,” Zachary told her, and she was aware that he’d told her that once before.
She doubted he liked to repeat himself—but maybe this was him taking it easy on the new girl.
That made her shiver too. And he was still telling her what he wanted her to do.
“Ass in the air, feet on the ground. I want your hands in the small of your back. They can touch if you like. What they cannot do is move from the small of your back. Under no circumstances should you attempt to cover your ass. Do you understand?”
Again, she nodded. His brow rose and she hurried the rest of the way over to the bed and realized that it was higher than she’d anticipated. When she bent herself over it, she had to stand high on her tip toes to keep her ass on the edge as directed.
“Beautiful,” he said.
And she couldn’t see him now. So even though Romily knew that he was most likely behind her, it seemed to her that his voice came from everywhere.
She found her own fingers behind her back and held them there.
She let her cheek rest against the coverlet on his bed and closed her eyes.
That only made his voice more of a lifeline. A light in the dark.
“Normally,” he said, almost conversationally, “I would use a paddle. A crop. Maybe even a whip. All do the same thing, more or less, but with intriguingly different sensations. But tonight, what you and I are doing is old school, Romily.”
He was closer now. She knew that for certain when his hand was on her, his huge, callused palms smoothing over her ass cheeks. One, then the other, as if he was learning their shapes. “You may speak. You may say, thank you, sir.”
She shuddered everywhere and it seemed to be coming from inside of her and emanating outward. “Thank you, sir,” she whispered.
And the funniest part was that she meant it.
He smoothed his hands this way and that, stirring up heat as he went. Then he dipped his way below to get his fingers all over the slippery folds of her pussy.
She didn’t know how this felt even more intimate and even dirtier than what they’d already done tonight. But it did. Maybe because he was simply… taking what he liked.
Yet somehow, his taking made her feel powerful. Precious.
He sank one thick finger deep inside her, thrust a few times—until she moaned—and then use two fingers instead. Then he reintroduced her to that intense, unendingly patient rhythm he had used on her before.
“This is how I want you to count,” he told her, when she started to arch into his hand. “You will say, one, thank you sir . Two, thank you sir . And so on. Do you understand?”
When she nodded, she heard him laugh—a new fire to make her burn. All the while his fingers kept up that insistent pump inside of her. Spearing in deep and then moving out, the rest of his hand almost but not quite pressing against her greedy little clit.
God, when had she gotten greedy?
“I want to hear you say it,” he told her.
“Yes sir,” she whispered obediently. Immediately. “I understand.”
The first blow came instantly.
It was a sharp smack and then a burst of heat, and it was shocking.
It hurt .
“Th… Thank you, sir, for number one,” Romily managed to get out, haltingly, because her body was in some kind of riot.
That sharp pain, so at odds with his fingers inside of her, and his pace never wavered.
The more his fingers thrust into her, the sharpness of the spank he’d delivered seemed to bloom into each thrust, and it was all the same pleasure and pain as one.
She was breathing too hard. She could hardly stand still.
She had no idea what to do with all the sensation inside of her.
“That’s not quite right,” Zachary said, sounding almost pleasant. “We’ll start that over.”
Smack. The next blow landed and now both of her ass cheeks were on fire. Now she felt herself breathing so loud that she could hear it. Gasping in breath, everything in her shuddering and completely on fire, and somehow they were the same thing. Somehow this was all terrible and wonderful at once.
“One, thank you sir,” she whispered, not sure if the words were coming out in the right order, even though she knew it was critical that they did.
“How lovely,” Zachary murmured.
And then he kept going. Sometimes he alternated sides.
Sometimes he didn’t. He also didn’t go easy on her.
His palm was exactly as hard, ever time, as the first, and it hurt exactly the same—except more, because each spank made the next spank that much worse.
It was red and itchy and awful and yet his fingers seemed to coax every bit of that into a different kind of throb that made her clit feel like it was its own fire.
Romily didn’t know at what point she simply started sobbing again.
It was all too much. There was the friction of her own breasts against the bed.
She was too hot, sweating and crying. She didn’t dare move her hands but her hips seemed to have a mind of their own and she had to fight to keep them from rolling away from where she imagined his next blow would come.
Her legs were shaking from the effort standing up on her toes.
And Zachary’s fingers were a torment inside of her.
There was something about the way he was doing this, she had the presence of mind to think at one point.
He was keeping her just aroused enough that the pain made the arousal greater, but not too great that she tipped over into a forbidden orgasm—because he wanted her to feel all of this.
No hiding in pleasure until the pain was done.
She was a sobbing mess in very short order and the strangest part of that was, she didn’t care at all.
Zachary kept going all the way up to twenty and she kept counting it off, like the good girl she desperately wanted to be for him.
“Twenty is a nice round number,” he said, and it was as if his voice was the only thing that could possibly have penetrated the way she was sobbing openly into his bed.
That and the way his hands—so hard, so cruel—smoothed over all of the red-hot, inflamed skin of her butt cheeks.
“And I would have said that an ass as perfect as yours could never be improved upon, but it’s such a pretty cherry red color right now.
I think you proved me wrong, little bird. ”
His fingers abruptly abandoned her pussy and she felt that awful emptiness again, the loss of him. It made her cry even harder.
But he was moving between her legs. She could feel the rough hair of his thighs as he reached down, adjusting her position slightly, and it occurred to her that this bed was exactly at cock height for Zachary.
A notion that made everything inside of her turn to liquid heat, even though there was still too much sensation in her ass.
One of his hands wrapped tight around her clenched fingers and anchored her arms there at the base of her spine.
“You took that spanking so beautifully that you can come when you like,” he told her gruffly. “I’m proud of you.”
And Romily thought that it was unlikely she would ever come again, given all the conflicting messages her body was sending itself —
But he slammed himself inside of her, burying his cock to the root and sparing no mercy whatsoever for her tender ass cheeks.
It was like a scream. It was that white-hot. It ripped through her.
Romily splintered into a trillion little pieces. Instantly. And as he began to thrust in that maddeningly intense, deep, and rhythmic way, she came again and again and again.
Almost as if he didn’t quite mean to do it, his strokes got deeper, wilder.
Until finally, Zachary was simply slamming into her, over and over again, and she could feel everything .
The way her face was pressed against the bed.
The way her breasts were so over sensitized, her nipples their own spark every time he slammed into her.
The way her arms ached, held behind her back like that and yet somehow, she’d never felt so secure.
And the way this man fucked himself into her was a revelation. Every single thrust took her over, turned her inside out, and made sure that she remembered every single one of the twenty-one spanks he’d delivered to her already tonight.
She felt a different kind of volcanic, seismic catastrophe rise from a place inside of her she’d never known was there. It grew and grew until she was almost trying to run away from it, though she was pinned down and held firmly in place. She couldn’t do anything to escape it.
Really, she couldn’t do anything at all.
The angle of the bed kept slamming into her clit when he buried himself inside her. And he kept thrusting so deep inside of her that she was faintly concerned that she was going to split in half.
And still that great wave of what must surely be disaster came for her.
This time, when it hit, she screamed so loud she thought she heard glass splintering—though that was possibly just inside of her. Better still, she heard him growl out his release, and that, too, seemed to go on and on.
She didn’t know where she was. Up or down. Out in space somewhere or here in this apartment, on this bed.
At some point Romily felt him move and before she could really register that, he was swinging her up into his arms and then carrying her as if she was little more than a feather.
She told herself that she should probably wake all the way up and pay attention, but she couldn’t seem to do it.
It was as if she no longer had control of her body.
She didn’t really pay attention again until she found herself sitting in a bath.
More improbably, Zachary was in that bath with her and he was washing her body with an intense expression on his face.
Romily couldn’t begin to translate what that meant, so she simply rested there against his wide chest and let him tend to her, even though that felt as strange as all the other things that he had done to her already tonight.