“Wait,” I say, holding out a hand from where I’m crouched on the carpet. “Just—wait.”
He wags a finger for me to get back on his lap.
Feelings of desperation and arousal war within me. I lick my lips.
“C, I need you to talk to me. I—I want to know what you’re going to do.”
“I’m going to put this in your ass for your spanking. And depending on how you do, I may switch it out for another one afterward.”
“I don’t think I’m ready.”
“We’ll find out what you can handle by trying things.” He gestures to his lap. “Don’t stall. Lie back over my lap with your ass in position for punishment.”
My heart hammers in my chest. This is the darker side of his dominance. I want to protest, but I also want to explore. My nipples are tight and my pussy’s moist. I would never let most men talk to me the way he does, but Connor McCann isn’t most men.
I rise and then lie back across his hard thighs. I will myself to relax. I remember listening to two other dancers talk about anal sex. One liked it. The other hated it. What had been the advice of the one who liked it? I couldn’t remember.
A drizzle of oil slithers down the crevice of my ass to pool over my cringing asshole. C massages the ring and penetrates it with his fingertip. It’s such a filthy touch, but it causes my belly to tighten and my pussy to throb.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. Then the cool metal is against me. A firm pressure causes my ring to give, and it pushes into me. The small muscle is stretched around the toy’s neck, causing an ache.
My hips twist and I pant from the discomfort.
C rubs my lower back, soothing me through the worst of it.
“Is it supposed to be uncomfortable?” I ask, afraid I know the answer.
“It’s supposed to stretch you, so yeah, it’ll be uncomfortable at first. Try to relax your muscles,” he says, pressing a thumb into pressure points between my shoulder blades.
I concentrate on relaxing. I’m partially successful.
“This spanking is punishment and so is that plug. If this was just about training your body, so I can use it the way I want, I’d turn the training into foreplay,” he says, a strong finger rubbing my clit for emphasis. He withdraws the teasing digit, and I growl in frustration.
“You’re such a bastard,” I hiss.
“Sometimes,” he agrees remorselessly. “I’m going to warm you up with my hand and then the punishment will start. Do you want me to talk you through it?”
“No!” I snap. “Just hurry and get it over with.” Now that I know this isn’t going to lead to great sex, I’m impatient and angry.
“Another five strokes for your bad attitude,” he says.
I curse.
“Ten.”
I bite my lip, shaking my head violently.
“Silence is safer,” he says, waiting. Then his hand comes down. The first slaps on each globe immediately warm my ass and send currents of arousal through my ass to my pussy.
What’s wrong with me? Why am I so attracted to a man who could do this to me? And why do I want him to keep doing it, faster, harder?
The slaps give way to firmer smacks on each cheek. He pauses, massaging my low back and buttocks. He twists the toy in my ass too and I let out a strangled protest. I was just getting used to it. The movement rekindles the burn.
He hooks a leg over mine and pins my arm in my lower back. I stiffen, taking these moves as warning that things are about to get more painful.
And they do.
* * *
