Chapter 5 Simone #3
"Do you consent to this?" he asked, his tone serious despite the hungry look in his eyes.
The question hung between us. Did I? Did I want to be restrained, controlled, at the mercy of this powerful creature? The answer rose from somewhere deep inside me, surprising in its clarity.
"Yes."
His smile was slow and predatory. "Good girl."
He knelt before me, the sight of this powerful being at my feet sending another rush of heat through me.
He secured the bar between my ankles, the cuffs lined with soft material that wouldn't chafe.
When he stood again, I tested my range of motion, I could move forward or back, but couldn't close my legs.
The vulnerability of the position made my breath catch.
"Now," he said, circling me slowly, "for your punishment."
"Punishment?" I echoed, voice embarrassingly high. "For what?"
He stopped behind me, his heat radiating against my back. "For neglecting yourself. For putting everyone else first. For denying your own wants and needs until you're hollow inside." His claw traced the curve of my spine through my dress. "For making me wait to taste you."
Before I could process his words, I felt the whisper-light touch of his claws at my hips, slipping beneath the fabric of my dress. Slowly, he gathered the material, lifting it to expose my thighs, my panties, the curve of my ass.
"Hold this," he commanded, placing the bunched fabric in my hands at my waist.
Cool air kissed my exposed skin, making me acutely aware of my vulnerability, legs spread, bottom bared, dress bunched indecently around my waist. I should have felt humiliated. Instead, I felt powerful in my surrender, desired in my exposure.
His claws hooked into the sides of my panties, and I gasped as I felt the delicate fabric give way with a soft ripping sound. The remains fluttered to the floor, leaving me exposed completely to his gaze.
"You're soaked," he observed, a note of dark satisfaction in his voice. His claw traced the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, gathering moisture that had escaped. "Dripping for me already."
I bit my lip, mortified yet aroused by his blunt observation. He guided me forward, bending me at the waist until my upper body lay flat against the cool surface of his desk, my exposed ass tilted upward, presented to him.
"Ten strikes," he announced, his voice rough with desire. "Count them."
I barely had time to process the command before the first blow landed, not his hand or claw but something firm and padded that had materialized in his grip. A paddle. The crack of it against my flesh echoed in the office, followed immediately by the sting.
"One," I gasped, shock quickly transforming into something unexpected, pleasure blooming beneath the pain, spreading like wildfire across my skin.
Another strike, slightly harder. "Two!"
By five, I was moaning with each impact, the pain transforming into a heat that connected directly to my core, making me wetter with each strike.
Between blows, his massive hand would caress the reddened skin, his touch taking away the sting with what felt like magic, leaving only warmth and tingling pleasure behind.
"Eight," I sobbed, tears pricking at my eyes not from pain but from overwhelming sensation.
"Nine," came out as a whimper, my hips unconsciously pushing back, seeking more.
"Ten!" The final blow was the hardest, making me cry out as pleasure-pain radiated through me.
His hands soothed my heated flesh, rubbing gently across the sensitized skin. "So beautiful," he murmured.
I lay panting against the desk, my body a mix of sensation, the sting of my spanking, the ache between my legs, the cool wood beneath my cheek. I felt opened, exposed, raw in ways that went beyond the physical.
"Do you want more, little star?" His voice had dropped to that impossible rumble that vibrated through my very bones.
"Yes," I whispered, beyond shame now, consumed by need.
"Then ask for it," he instructed. "Tell me what you want. Be selfish for once."
The words stuck in my throat, not from embarrassment but from unfamiliarity. When had I last asked for something purely for my own pleasure? When had I put my desires first?
His hand delivered a light slap to my sensitive flesh. "I won't continue until you ask. Use your words, Simone."
I swallowed hard, gathering courage from the depths of my desire. "Please... taste me."
A low, approving growl rumbled from his chest. "Where? Be specific."
Oh god. "Between my legs," I clarified, my voice small but clear. "Please."
"Good girl," he praised, and then he was dropping to his knees behind me.
The first touch of his tongue against me tore a cry from my throat, hot, wet, and impossibly skilled.
His hands gripped my thighs, keeping me spread wide despite my instinctive attempt to close them against the overwhelming sensation.
The spreader bar held firm, forcing me to accept each devastating lick.
His tongue was longer than a human's, reaching places inside me that had me seeing stars.
Hotter, too, almost burning against my sensitive flesh.
I moaned shamelessly as he lapped at me like I was the sweetest dessert he'd ever tasted, obscene wet sounds filling the office as he devoured me with enthusiastic hunger.
"Krampus," I gasped, my hands scrabbling for purchase on the smooth desktop. "Oh my god—"
He hummed against me, his tongue circled my entrance before plunging inside, fucking me with slow, deliberate thrusts that had my eyes rolling back, my toes curling against the floor. Then he shifted his attention higher, finding the bundle of nerves that made my entire body jerk.
Just as I approached the edge, he pulled back, leaving me whimpering with frustration. "Please," I begged, beyond pride now. "Please don't stop."
"I love when you beg," he growled against my thigh, delivering a gentle nip that made me yelp. "Do it again."
He resumed his attention, but slower now, teasing licks that built me back up without providing enough pressure to push me over. Each time I approached climax, he would retreat, keeping me balanced on the knife-edge of pleasure until I was sobbing with need.
"Please, Krampus, please," I chanted, my voice breaking. "I need to come. Please let me come."
"What do you need?" he asked, his breath hot against my aching flesh.
"Your mouth," I gasped. "Your fingers. Anything. Everything. Please!"
"Since you asked so nicely," he purred, and then his mouth was on me again, sucking my clit between his lips while two thick fingers slid inside me, curling to press against a spot that made stars explode behind my eyelids.
The orgasm was so intense I screamed his name. My inner walls clenched rhythmically around his fingers as he continued his relentless assault, tongue flicking against my clit, prolonging the pleasure until it bordered on pain.
Just when I thought I couldn't take any more, a second climax crashed over me, more powerful than the first. My vision blurred, then darkened at the edges. The last thing I remembered was his pleased growl against my flesh and the sensation of being lifted in impossibly strong arms.
I woke disoriented, blinking in the dim pre-dawn light filtering through my bedroom window. My bedroom. Not Krampus's office. I sat up with a jerk, looking around in confusion. Herbert the fern sat on my dresser, his leaves seeming more judgmental than usual.
Had it all been a dream? A vivid, embarrassingly detailed fantasy born from stress and attraction?
But no, my body ached pleasantly in ways that couldn't be explained by sleep. My thighs felt tender, my pussy still sensitive. And when I shifted, I realized with a flush of heat that I wore only my nightgown with nothing underneath.
My panties were gone.
I flopped back against my pillows, memories flooding back, the spanking, his mouth between my legs, pleasure so intense I'd apparently passed out from it. Somehow, he'd brought me home, put me to bed, and left me to wake alone.
I wasn't sure if I should feel cared for or abandoned. What did last night mean? Was it just a sexual release, or something more? And how was I supposed to look him in the eye across the café counter after he'd had his tongue inside me?
My alarm chose that moment to blare, announcing the start of another workday.
Except everything had changed. I had changed.
For one night, I'd been selfish. Had taken what I wanted without worrying about consequences or responsibilities or what anyone else thought.
And despite the confusion swirling in my chest, one certainty remained, I wanted more.
As I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, I caught sight of something on my nightstand that hadn't been there when I'd left for work yesterday.
A single black feather, soft and gleaming with subtle hints of red in the early morning light.
Beside it lay a folded note, the paper heavy and expensive, my name written in elegant script.
I reached for it with trembling fingers, wondering what words awaited me. The words on the paper shocked me.
Simone Parker: Naughty List
One thing was certain, my evaluation week had just gotten considerably more complicated.