Surprising myself, I say, “You can do this at your apartment, but not here.”
“Right here. Right now.”
Tipping my head back, I exhale and look at the ceiling. Under other circumstances the painted pastel clouds are probably soothing.
If I decide to leave him, this will be over. But I’m not leaving him tonight, so tonight this is part of my life because it’s a part of his. And he did warn me. I knew the risk when I lied and went downstairs alone.
My fists ball, then I unclench them and shake my fingers out. Finally, I position myself rigidly, balancing myself over his lap.
He chuckles softly. “You’re not doing planks. Relax.”
The little bit of levity helps. One hard swallow later, my muscles hear my orders to stop clenching and I’m draped over his legs.
“Give me your hands.”
My fingers have a death grip on his left calf. “I’ll hold on so I don’t fall.”
“Hands.”
My left hand reaches back, and he sets it in the small of my back.
“Right hand.”
My fingers pinch his leg. It’s an entirely childish reaction, and from above, his soft laughter tells me he thinks so too. At least he’s not furious as he’s about to punish me.
Putting my other hand in the small of my back, my fingers grip each other. The first slap against my bare damp skin is so loud it steals my breath. The next slaps are light but loud too. As I relax, he spanks more firmly. It stings, but it’s bearable. Curling and uncurling my toes, my mind tries to transport me.
His leg hooks over mine, and his left arm grips my right shoulder. Suddenly pinioned, I squirm slightly, testing his hold. It’s firm. Then his hand comes down hard. My lungs suck air in like I’ve been submerged for too long.
“That—” My voice fails me when more swats of the same force follow.
Then I can’t tell if he’s spanking harder or if it’s just the cumulative effect of so many. When I gasp with my eyes stinging, Trick pauses.
“Get your hands back where they belong, little girl.” His voice is rough and husky, and that tone, along with what’s happening to me, triggers something. I’m both embarrassed and aroused.
I realize my fingers have drifted lower, preparing to intervene on my ass’s behalf. His words and the way he speaks them send my hands back to the curve of my lower back.
When he resumes, it’s definitely harder. But by now, my ass is flaming hot and not prepared for the spanking to get worse. My legs kick, and my breath’s stilted.
Trick pauses again and rubs my burning flesh. “Don’t clench.”
“I won’t when you stop spanking me.”
He slaps me hard right on my sit spot. “Tone.”
A curse almost slips from my lips, but I catch it. Tears of frustration sting my eyes. “I’ve had enough,” I whisper.
“No.” His finger presses down against my clenched buttock and that hurts.
“Ow. Don’t.”
“Relax your muscles. Right now.”
My teeth bite down on my lower lip, and it takes all I have to relax and go limp over his lap.
“Good girl.”
His swinging hand treats every bit of my ass to the same stern punishment until the pain consumes me. How can being spanked by a hand be as intense as being spanked by a wooden paddle? But it is. Heat sears my flesh from the inside out, until my entire body burns. And worse, he’s hard. His towel falls open and my soft skin is being pressed against the swollen cock that got me pregnant and clearly likes my helplessness now.
