Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
S arah
The few feet between the sofa and the recently relocated ottoman suddenly feels as vast as standing on one side of the Grand Canyon and looking towards the other rim.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Communicating,” he says simply.
We’re standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling wall of glass, our reflections visible against the night sky. He holds me, not moving, my hands pinned behind my back in his firm grip.
“Now, kitten, I believe I told you what the rules were.”
“What?” My mind seems to have checked out, with no forwarding address given.
“What did I say the expectation was when I ask you a question?”
I realize he has both of my hands trapped in one of his, and the other has come to rest on my hip.
“I didn’t lie!”
“Omission isn’t the truth either.”
“You said no lies. It’s not a lie.” I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.
I feel him chuckle softly against my back, before he clicks his tongue at me in admonishment. His warm breath floods down my neck when he whispers against my ear, “That would be a great argument for a lawyer. But I’m not a lawyer, kitten.”
The hand that was on my hip slides forward, to the top button of my jeans. He flicks it open.
“What are you doing?”
The zipper slowly slides down. I swear my hyper-focused senses can feel each tooth separate as it moves.
I try to pull away, but his grip on my wrists doesn’t budge. “What the fuck are you doing?” I’m starting to hyperventilate.
“I’m not spanking you through your jeans, kitten.” He says it so matter-of-factly, like he’s explaining why he booked a later flight or changed a dinner reservation.
My whirling brain comes screeching to a halt.
Spanking?
“Spanking? Don’t even think about it!”
“Oh, kitten, I’ve been thinking about it since I snatched you up in that alley.”
“You can’t spank me!”
“What part of your current situation leads you to believe that you get a say in anything that happens right now?”
I shiver, watching our reflections in the darkened glass. My arms are pulled behind my back, my breasts thrust forward by the position. My shirt is ripped, dirt is smudged across my arms, and my eyeliner has dried down my cheeks. He towers behind me. Dark suit, dark hair, dark eyes. I feel like I’m about to be devoured by the devil.
And there is nothing I can do about it.
His free hand moves, slowly pulling the edges of my jeans down my hips. I whimper. When they are at the middle of my thighs, he stops. His grip still on my arms, I feel him step back and sit down on the ottoman, pulling me down with him.
Over his lap.
He smooths out the skimpy thong panties I’m wearing, making them slide deeper between my cheeks. The air in the room is cold against my skin, and I feel goosebumps prickle across my body.
“These are lovely, kitten,” he tells me. His massive hand starts to massage my ass. I whimper again.
What the fuck is that about, Sarah?
“Has anyone spanked this cute little ass before, kitten?” he asks.
I can still see our reflection in the glass. I shake my head.
“Good girl.”
Something about that makes me acutely aware of my peaked nipples against the mesh of my bra, as well as the wetness I can already feel soaking my thong. My mind is spinning, panic blocking out my rational thought.
Not just panic, I realize. Something else. Something I can’t place.
I try to get off his lap, and he lets out a low groan. I realize the movement was rubbing directly against his hard cock, barely contained by the thin pants of his suit.
Holy shit. That’s not all cock, is it?
“Tsk, tsk. No, little wildcat. You’re not going anywhere.”
His hand disappears from where it had been rubbing along my ass. We sit like that, I’m not sure for how long. I open my mouth to speak but feel a faint rush of air before pain explodes across my exposed bottom.
I scream instead and kick my legs, trying to twist my body away from the source of the discomfort. He hooks his leg over my ankles and tightens his grip on my arms, pressing my breasts just a little bit harder against his body.
His hand cracks down against my other cheek. It’s like lightning sparking across my skin, spreading tendrils of pain away from the point of impact.
“Stop it!” I scream.
“No.” His voice is calm and so fucking controlled, it irritates me.
He rains down more smacks across my ass. I can feel heat coming from my skin, the stinging pain from one hit barely lessening before the next comes down. In the glass, the reflection becomes blurry, and I realize I’m crying. I see my mascara-darkened tears drip onto the creamy ottoman.
More fire sparks across my ass, white hot. He starts to move down my thighs, which somehow hurts even more.
“Please! It hurts! Stop!”
“It’s supposed to hurt, kitten. That’s the point. And when you see your little bruised ass tomorrow, and sit on it, you’ll remember why the truth is your friend.”
He works his way back up to my ass and settles into a steady rhythm. Back and forth, up and down. Helpless, pinned down by his strong arms, I feel like I can barely breathe through my cries.
Vincent chuckles. “Kitten, are you even aware that you’re rubbing your thighs together? Trying to tell me something?”
“What?” I mumble.
He trails a finger down my ass, tracing my thong. He tugs on it, the fabric pulling tight against my pussy. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to keep from moaning.
“Am I going to find these panties soaked?”
“What?” I shake my head to clear some of the fog from my brain. “What? No. Are you crazy?”
“Probably. But I don’t think I’m wrong.”
He resumes tracing my thong down my ass, stopping over my pussy. My very wet pussy. He starts to rub the thin fabric back and forth.
“Oh, that is a very wet little pussy.”
He continues to work the fabric, teasing me. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m moaning and pushing my hips back against his hand.
“Kitten, I think you might have enjoyed that spanking.”
“No.”
“Liar,” he whispers. His hand leaves my pussy and then crashes back against my skin, lighting my ass on fire all over again.
“Ow!!”
“Bad kittens don’t get to come.”