Chapter 5
Haden
There’s nothing in the world I want more than to show this jitterbug what it means to be mine. I’ve fantasized about having her more times than I’d like to admit. Every time she came to visit for the holidays, I ended up unable to get her out of my head for weeks afterward.
The truth is that I’ve hardly dated since I met Emilia. I haven’t had a serious girlfriend in four years because every time I’m with a woman, I picture Emilia’s face, her sweet smile, her sexy body… It’s not fair to the partner I’m with, and I don’t like the way it makes me feel guilty.
That doesn’t mean I should pursue something with Brody’s sister. No matter what, she’s not ready for me. She might not ever be. It would take a lot of kink education for her to understand how my brain operates.
She’s read a few romance novels? Ha. This is real life. In my real life, I like my women to submit to me in many ways. It’s not just a bedroom thing for me. It’s all the time.
On top of that, it would be remiss for me not to admit to myself that I’m skittish after my last girlfriend burned me. Renee seemed like the perfect life partner. We met at a club, hit it off, and started dating. We got to know each other and eased into a relationship.
Everything was wonderful, until it wasn’t. I still cringe at the memory.
I growl. “Jitterbug, what you’ve witnessed in this mansion is child’s play compared to the kind of Dominant I am.
I don’t simply joke around about spanking my submissive when she breaks my rules.
I act on it. I’m demanding in ways you can’t fathom.
You need to turn around, walk out this door, and either head off to graduate school or find some nice vanilla boy in town to settle down with. ”
“I can’t,” she whispers.
I lift a brow.
She licks her lips. “I won’t.”
I inhale long and slow.
Stubborn girl.
I want to toss her over my shoulder, drop her on the middle of the bed, and spank her ass until she cries. Until she begs me to stop. Until she promises she won’t come back to my RV.
Who am I kidding? I want to spank my girl until her thighs are wet with her arousal, so slippery that one touch would get her off.
I have no way of knowing how Emilia might react to my kind of dominance. Though it’s remotely possible she could be as submissive as I prefer at some point in her life, right now, she’s too inexperienced to know that about herself.
I slide my palm around so I’m cupping her neck, pressing slightly against her throat, just enough to make her feel trapped. Her pulse is rapid against my fingers, but she’s not bucking against me. She’s not running. In fact, she’s still holding my gaze. Tempting me. Forcing my hand.
Dammit.
“You want to spank me for cussing, don’t you?”
My fingers twitch against her neck. “Yes, jitterbug. I want to spank you.”
“Do it.”
I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. I cannot spank this girl. I have no right. She’s not mine. She doesn’t understand what it means to be mine.
Except, isn’t she? Mine? Am I fooling myself by denying the chemistry between us? It’s always been there, but that doesn’t make it right. It doesn’t mean I should take her.
I could. I could probably even mold her to be the sort of woman I enjoy.
But for how long? Emilia is far too young to make such an important life decision.
Even if she submitted to me beautifully and decided she loved being my girl, I have no right to train her to be the type of submissive I want.
She could easily look back in five, ten, or twenty years with a mountain of regrets.
Would it hurt to spank her, though? A demonstration?
“Fine.”
Her breath hitches. “You’ll spank me?”
“Yes. And then you will go back to the main house and go to bed. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, Sir.”
She nods and licks her lips. “Yes, Sir.”
Fuck, that sounds good coming from her lips. I release her hair and jaw and grip her bicep to guide her toward the bed. “Take your panties off, Emilia,” I order.
She hesitates, her cheeks turning pink.
I’m going to push her because she needs to understand how serious I am about this. I’m fucking demanding. I like total control. I won’t settle for anything less. I hold out a hand, palm up, waiting for compliance.
She reaches under her skirt and wiggles out of her panties before setting them in my open hand. White lace and silk. Expensive. Sexy. Mine.
I tuck them into my pocket. “Do you know what a safeword is?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. If we were at a fetish club, you would have a safeword. If we were a new couple, you would have a safeword. If you ever decide to dabble in kink with anyone else, you need to have a safeword. For tonight, you will use red. If at any point you want me to stop, say red. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“But here’s the thing, Emilia. If you were mine, we wouldn’t have this discussion every day. I wouldn’t check in with you to make sure you were okay every time I spanked you. I would just do it, and you would accept it.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispers.
“Turn around. Pull your dress up. Lean over the end of the bed.”
“You’re not going to take me over your lap?”
“No, naughty girl. That’s too intimate for tonight. I’m simply going to show you what it feels like to be swatted over and over again until your skin is red hot. Take this opportunity to grasp what it means to be mine.”
Why the fuck do I keep emphasizing the word mine? Emilia Wilde is not mine. She can’t be because she doesn’t know what that would mean. I can’t simply will it into existence. I can’t claim her. The memory of what happened last time I tried to mold someone into being what I need makes me shudder.
Emilia turns around, head held high, lifts her skirt, and bends over the end of the bed. Her dress is high enough that I can see the tan lines from a bikini. Her skin is always a nice, tanned color, but now I see that her bottom is not as tan as the rest of her. I’d love to see her breasts. Shit.
I step up to one side of her legs and trail a finger along the line at the base of her spine. “Have you been swimming?” There is a pool behind the mansion, but there’s no water in it. It looks like it needs some work before it can be functional again.
Her voice is soft. “No. I just lie in the sun sometimes.”
“Not anymore you don’t. Not here. Not at the mansion.”
She lifts her head and turns to look at me. “Why?”
“Because I said so. For one thing, you need sunscreen if you’re going to be lying in the sun.
The UV rays are not safe. For another thing, I don’t want to see you in a bikini in public places.
I don’t know how much work that pool needs, but if I get it repaired and open again, you’ll wear a one-piece to swim and cover every inch of your exposed skin with sun protection. Am I clear?”
I have no right to boss her around. Zero.
But she wants a taste of the real me. She’s getting it.
Plus, if I’m going to work here, and she’s going to live here, I can’t have her sexy body on display.
Not a chance. I’d end up cutting off one of my arms with an electric saw if she exposed herself in front of me or anyone else.
“You can’t tell me what to wear,” she sasses.
I lift both brows. “You’re making my point for me, Emilia.
I do not have vanilla relationships. If you were mine, I would tell you what to wear every single day.
Even if you walk out of here and never speak to me again, I do not want to see you lying in the backyard in a skimpy bikini. Am. I. Clear?”
She bites her lip for a moment before releasing it. “Fine.” My sassy girl, who thinks she can submit to me, drops her cheek onto the mattress.
I lean over and whisper near her ear, “If you were mine, I would spank you just for your attitude. The tone of your voice alone would make my palm twitch.”
She doesn’t respond. That’s okay. What matters is that she gets a dose of what I expect from my submissives to be able to walk away. She isn’t likely to look at me through the same lens tomorrow.
“Tuck your arms under your head like a pillow, naughty girl. Keep them there. If you move them, I’ll stop. If you say red, I’ll stop. If you tell me to stop, I will stop. But this is a one-time deal. This is not how I normally operate.”
“Okay.” Her voice is barely audible. She’s nervous. She should be.
I set one palm on the small of her back, push her dress up farther because I want to, and squeeze her fucking sexy ass with my other hand. “Spread your knees, Emilia.”
She opens her legs a few inches.
“Good. Keep your feet planted wide like that. Naughty girls who need their bottoms spanked do not get friction on their pussies. Nor do they get to rub their clits against the mattress. Scoot back a few inches so your pussy feels open and no part of it is touching the bed.”
She whimpers as she obeys me.
Fuck, she’s sexy. What the hell am I going to do if this backfires on me?
She was pretty defiant about me ordering her not to wear a bikini, but that doesn’t mean a thing.
The entire concept of kink is new to her.
Even if she were born to submit to me, she would test me frequently at first to push the boundaries.
I lift my palm and give her a light swat.
She flinches but doesn’t say a word.
I do it again a few more times, switching back and forth from one cheek to the other before pausing to look at her face.
Her lips are parted. Her eyes are glassy. She’s looking straight ahead at nothing, not directly at me. Fuck me, but she’s in subspace. She’s not in distress, so I resume.
Her ass is fucking gorgeous. Smooth and begging to be pinkened. It’s a blank slate that needs attention. And I’m going to spank it until it’s red and burning.
She needs to know.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
Never mind that my cock is fucking furious with me. This isn’t about me. It’s about Emilia. The feisty woman who thinks she has what it takes to submit to an exacting Dominant like me.
I cover every inch of her bottom with swats, pausing every few seconds to take note of her expression. She’s fucking blissed out. Purring. This is backfiring on me.
I keep going. She seems to need it. As if she’s been craving a good spanking for months or years. She might not have known it, but she wanted this.
Many submissives enjoy the release they get from a good spanking. It absolves them of their imagined sins. It wipes away their anxiety and daily aggravations.
I’ve been spanked. I’ve done it because no one should be striking another person in a way they haven’t experienced themselves. But it didn’t have the effect on me that it has on others. I’m not submissive in any way. It burned. It didn’t give me emotional release or arouse me.
I’m impressed by Emilia’s tolerance, and I make the last few swats count before stopping.
She’s trembling all over. Panting. Moaning softly. I’d bet my last dollar she’s aroused.
“Is your pussy wet, Emilia?”
She nods.
“I’d like to reach between your legs and find out for myself.
May I?” I shouldn’t do this. It wasn’t part of the plan, not part of the negotiation.
I should not touch Emilia so intimately.
It’s one thing to make her remove her panties and expose her bottom to me.
It’s another thing entirely for me to fondle her.
“Yes, Sir,” she breathes out.
I slide one hand slowly up her thigh, loving the way her breath hitches as I get closer to her core. She rises onto her tiptoes.
When my fingers find her folds, I give a feathery touch, almost not enough to notice. But she’s beyond aware. She whimpers and tries to push back.
I steady her with firm pressure against the small of her back. Her pussy is shaved bare. I like a shaved pussy. I want to flip her over, spread her legs, and bury my face in her warmth. I want to suck her until she comes. I want to hear her scream.
Instead, I ease one finger between her folds and drag it through her arousal.
Emilia moans as if I’ve pinched her clit. She’s so fucking aroused and sensitive.
Forcing myself to stop, I bring my finger to my lips and suck her juices from my pointer. Sweetest flavor in the world.
My heart is racing as I release her and pull her dress over her sexy red ass. I tuck my hands under her and help her stand before turning her around so she’s facing me. Staring into her eyes, I determine that she’s definitely in subspace but not so deeply that she can’t make it to her room.
Ensuring she’s steady against the mattress, I turn and grab a water bottle from the fridge. After uncapping it, I cup the back of her neck and tip the lip of the bottle to her mouth. “Take a drink, Emilia,” I order.
She obeys me, sucking down a third of the water.
When she balks at consuming more, I set it aside. “Go to your room right now, Emilia. I want you to strip naked and climb into bed. You may sleep on your back or your front, but you will not touch your pussy. You do not get to come.”
I take several steps away from her. I must. I need to get my hands off her. She’s temptation on a stick.
She doesn’t look away. My brave girl. “Please can I stay here with you?”
“No.”
“But…”
“No, Emilia. This isn’t up for discussion.
Don’t you understand? If you were mine, nothing would be up for discussion.
I’m a bossy fucking man. You wanted a taste of how demanding I am, and you got it.
Now you need to go to your room. Think about what happened here and how it made you feel.
Multiply how dominant you think I am by ten.
Imagine a world where you turn all your choices over to me.
That’s the kind of man I am. You’re playing with fire to think you can skip around me every day, flirting. I’m not right for you.”
I force myself not to wince as I spit out this harsh reality. I need her to leave this RV and never come back. For her own good. And for mine.
“Yes, Sir,” she murmurs as she shuffles toward the door. She hesitates, not looking at me this time. “Can I have my panties back?”
“No.” Never. I’m confident she will realize this type of relationship is not something she’s up for, but her panties are mine. I’ll always have them as a reminder of this one intense scene we did together.
She opens the door, climbs down from the RV, and heads for the house.
I hop down and follow her to make sure she arrives safely, and I continue to stare at the back door that leads into the kitchen for long seconds.
Eventually, I shift my attention to the second floor and watch when the light comes on in her bedroom.
I don’t see her, but I stand here for a while before going inside the RV.
Fuck. Me.