Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Autumn
I’m trembling. I was so warm on his lap, and now I’m alone and cold from exposure. It takes me a minute to convince my legs to take me to the separate toilet room, and then I make it to the sink.
When I see my face, I gasp. It’s swollen, even though I haven’t cried recently. My eyes are puffy. There are dark circles under them. I’m usually so pale that I wear foundation to avoid looking like death. I don’t have any makeup with me. There might be a concealer in my purse, but that’s it.
My eyelashes are nonexistent. Without mascara, it looks like I don’t have any. Same with my eyebrows. How is Mace not rather horrified when he looks at me?
When I glance down, I find a new toothbrush on the counter. I open it, brush my teeth, and put it in the stand next to Mace’s. It feels so domestic that my heart rate picks up.
At a soft knock on the door, I spin around and hurry to open it.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yes, Sir.”
He gives me a slow smile. “One day soon, you’re going to call me Daddy.” He sets a finger under my chin. “And it’s going to melt my heart.”
I could do that now, but it’s scary. It’s a big step with dozens of implications.
He leans in to kiss my forehead, then nods over his shoulder. “Climb onto the bed. I want you on your tummy with a pillow under your hips.” His hand slides to the back of my neck so he can direct me toward the bed.
As soon as I clear the doorway, he enters the bathroom and shuts it behind him.
Taking a deep breath, I follow his instructions. This might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I have no idea how I’m going to react to being spanked. From my research, it could go either way. Some people love it; some people hate it.
I’m glad he’s not here to watch me get into the right position.
I feel awkward, climbing up and situating a pillow under my stomach.
I spend way too much time tugging the T-shirt down to make sure I’m not exposed, probably for no good reason.
He’s not going to spank me over the cotton. He’s already said as much.
I’m still shifting my weight, trying to get settled, when Mace joins me. A lamp on the nightstand is the only light on, which he clicks a few times to dim.
As I lean on my cheek, facing him, he closes the distance until he’s against the mattress and sets a palm on my lower back. He’s no longer wearing a shirt, which is extremely distracting. I’ve never seen him shirtless. There are tattoos across his upper chest. The middle one says Believe.
He’s mouthwatering, as I knew he would be.
His jeans hang low on his hips. He’s barefoot.
I kind of want to slide off the bed, kneel at his feet, and tip my head back to look up at him.
I would even clasp my hands behind my back.
The visual makes my pussy wet. How many times have I pictured such a scenario?
It’s not even in line with my age-play fantasies.
The front of his jeans bulges, drawing my attention. It’s difficult to look away. I want to see his cock. I want to touch it. His. Not a random person’s. Mace’s.
I was eighteen when I met him. I had no experience with men.
I hadn’t dated in high school because I was too quiet and shy.
Mace was the first man to catch my attention, and he snagged it hard.
Thoughts of him consumed me from the first time I saw him.
No one else could compare, so I didn’t date in college, either.
I knew he was too old for me. He would never look at me the way I did him.
It was foolish to dream about him, but I couldn’t stop myself.
And then I found romance books. I learned how to masturbate.
I think that made things even worse. I could close my eyes, picture him dominating me in a dozen different ways, and finger myself to orgasm.
I learned what it meant to get that euphoric release while thinking of Mace. Always.
And now I’m here, in his home. I hate the reason I’m in Seattle, entertaining the idea of submitting to my fantasy man, but it has happened. And he’s going to spank me now.
Mace sets one hand on the top of my head, back just far enough so that he’s holding me down while not obstructing my view or my hearing. His other hand smooths from my lower back to my bare thighs.
“You’ve worked so hard to keep this shirt covering your bottom and your pussy today, Autumn.” His fingers dance between my legs.
Instinctively, I grip my thighs together, trying to squelch the whimper that wants to bubble out of me.
“When I spank you, it will always be on your bare bottom, Baby girl. I need to see your skin to be sure I’m not injuring you.”
A soft moan leaks out of me. I’ve never been so nervous in my life. I’m also really aroused. It happened fast. It was caused by a combination of his exposed chest, the way he’s touching me, his proximity, and the tone of his voice. He’s the whole package.
“Are you ready for me to lift your shirt, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Sir,” I murmur. I’m in such an awkward position, with my butt in the air. It’s only raised a few inches, but it feels like my ass is about to be the focal point of my body. In many ways, it is.
He slowly eases my shirt up until the hem is at the small of my back.
The air leaves my lungs. This feels huge. He’s not just going to spank me, but he’s able to lean down and see my exposed pussy.
“So pretty,” he whispers reverently. His fingers trail around my bottom, causing goosebumps. After a minute, he pats my thigh again. “Spread your knees, Baby girl. I don’t want you squeezing your legs together while I’m swatting your naughty bottom.”
I think my heart is going to beat out of my chest. I wasn’t expecting this type of demand. Have I read any books where the Daddy or the Dominant makes the submissive spread her knees for a spanking?
Mace reaches across me. I’m not sure what he’s doing until he tucks a pillow between my knees.
A deep moan fills the room. I don’t even recognize myself. He hasn’t done anything yet, and I’m so horny I could come. It’s embarrassing. Wetness is leaking out of me. It’s going to drip onto the sheet.
Mace grips one of my thighs, his fingertips extending between my legs, so close to my pussy. “Take a deep breath, Baby girl.”
Am I not breathing? Apparently not, because it feels strange to drag in a gulp of oxygen.
“Good girl. What you’re feeling is normal, Autumn. I promise. There’s no right or wrong here. Everyone is different. But it’s common for Little girls to feel aroused when they’re being dominated. You’re in a vulnerable position, lying here, spread open for me with your bottom in the air.”
I whimper. He’s pinning my head down, probably intentionally. It’s making me feel restrained in a way I wasn’t expecting. It’s causing me to quiver from anticipation and need.
“I’m going to spank you now, Baby girl. You are not in trouble. This is just for the experience. It could be cathartic, but it’s also possible you might hate it. That’s okay, too. If it’s not enjoyable, I’ll stop.”
I have no idea how being spanked could be enjoyable, but in books, the heroine always seems to crave it, so it’s ingrained in me that I will like the sting.
The first slap resounds loud in the room, but it doesn’t hurt. Not like I was expecting. It feels like a love pat. The next several slaps are the same. He moves his hand around my butt, covering every inch of skin, but the sting I expected isn’t there.
I squirm and wiggle my ass, hoping to entice him to slap harder.
When he stops, I whine. I’ve never heard that sound coming from my lips, either. I do not whine.
Mace chuckles. “My naughty girl needs a firm hand, doesn’t she?”
I bite my lip, not able to respond. Maybe he can just tell.
“Autumn…” he says in a warning voice I’m learning goes with his Daddy side.
“I need you to talk to me, sweetheart. I know you didn’t mind the light pats I’ve given you so far.
You would have clenched your bottom and tried to squirm away from me.
But that doesn’t mean you want more. Would you like me to spank your bottom harder, Baby girl? ”
“Yes, Sir,” I whisper. My face is hot again. I’ll never be able to hide the flush that races up my pale cheeks when I’m embarrassed.
“Good girl. I’ll give you a dozen firmer swats and see how you’re feeling.”
My mouth falls open as he spanks me harder.
It stings, but it feels so good. Cathartic, just like he suggested.
It’s like each additional slap against my skin helps me settle deeper into the mattress.
It’s absolving me of my imaginary sins. I’ve read about that, but it wasn’t possible to comprehend without experiencing it.
My ass is hot when he stops. I’m breathing heavily, but it’s from excitement.
“More, Baby girl?”
“Yes, please.” I feel emboldened to ask for what I need. I’m certain he has more to give. I’m grateful he’s gradually guiding me into this new world of impact play. He’s giving me time to acclimate.
“Six more. I’ll make them count, sweetheart, and then that’s it for tonight.”
Part of me wants to argue that six won’t be enough, but I need to trust Mace to know what I can endure. “Yes, Sir.”
The next swat packs a punch. My ass burns. My body shakes as if from aftershocks. And the vibrations from the firmer slap seem to reach straight for my pussy. My clit quivers.
The next one makes me moan. I try to arch my head, but he’s restraining me. My breasts are pressing into the mattress, but they feel achy.
The third and fourth come in quick succession, one on each cheek, higher, his hand leaving heated skin in its wake.
I’m still holding my breath from the shock when he delivers the last two swats lower, at the junction between my bottom and my thighs.
I clench my butt cheeks, gasping for air. The sting is tremendous. He didn’t hold back with the last two. Or maybe he did. Maybe he has the capability of striking me much harder.
When Mace sets his hand on one of my thighs, I cry out. I’m frustrated for reasons I don’t understand.
“Breathe, Baby girl.”
I’m not sure I can. All my focus is on the pulsing, burning flesh of my backside. Inhaling is not on my radar.
“Autumn…” he warns.
I suck in a breath and let it out, trembling with need. Need for what? And then I know. I’m so fucking horny, I’m about to come. That’s madness. He’s not touching me intimately. I grip the pillow between my legs as hard as I can, trying to ease the need, but to no avail.
“Please…” I beg. I can’t help myself. I think I might die if I don’t get to orgasm.
“Please, what, Baby girl?”
Ugh. He knows. He’s smart. He wants me to say it. “Mace…” I whine.
“I’m not a mind-reader, sweetheart,” he jokes.
“Yes, you are,” I quip.
He chuckles. “Okay, on this issue, you’re right. I’m aware your pussy is pulsing with need. I’ve been watching you squirm. Do you want to come, Autumn?”
“Yes,” I blurt without hesitation.
“Do you want me to touch your pussy, Baby girl?”
“Yes, Sir. Please…” I’m begging. I don’t care. I’m going to self-combust.
Mace eases his grip on my thigh. His fingers slowly trail up, toward my quivering, greedy pussy. No man has ever touched me there. No one has ever made me come except me. “Please,” I implore again, panting heavily.
His other hand moves from my head to the small of my back, bracing me against the pillow. The fingers between my legs lightly touch my folds.
I nearly shoot off the bed. I would have if he weren’t still holding me down.
Mace strokes a single finger between my swollen lips and circles my clit.
I moan again, louder. I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. This is Mace. I don’t care if he hears me enjoy myself. He’s the master of my body. He has been for four years. He just didn’t know it until today.
The moment he taps my clit, I come. My head shoots up, and I drag my hands under me and flatten them so I can brace myself as waves of pleasure race through me.
Mace gently strokes my clit for a few more seconds before removing his hand. He rubs my sore bottom next and then pulls my shirt over my exposed skin. I’m still panting as he guides me onto my side, so I’m facing him. He pulls the pillow out from under me and tosses it at the headboard.
Chilled, I draw my knees up to my chest and hug them, grateful when Mace covers me. I’m not sure what he’s going to do next. He moves around the room, disappearing out of my line of sight.
Now what? I’m in Mace’s bed. I just came on his fingers. He spanked me. I can’t believe this is happening.