“Yes, sir,” she gasped, her body beginning to tighten as his slippery fingers glided through her folds, finding hidden spots that zinged when he touched them.
The third slap bit her ass, and then he pressed a finger inside her, a fullness that made her ache for more.
The fuzz in her head sharpened to need.
Somewhere, part of Colleen’s brain was appalled at what was going on, that she was allowing a man to spank her while he fingered her, and worse, she seemed to frickin’ like it, but that squeaky little scold was so far away that her shrouded mind ignored its protestations.
He rubbed inside her, sensual friction that gathered her attention and concentrated it with every languid stroke. Slipperiness spread backward, and a delicate touch spread the slickness over her asshole.
She should have been freaking, she should have stopped him, but she wanted to see what was going to happen next.
He kept stroking her, a long frisson of pleasure and a pop of ecstasy as his hand changed direction to slide back the other way, and the constant naughty insistence as his thumb circled her asshole, suggesting unexplored sensations there.
Sparkles flittered in her mind, and her attention felt knife-edged. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t merely enduring the passing time as gray darkness cut her off from everyone around her. For those years, she had trudged through a fog-banked limbo, trying to keep going across the wasteland to whatever else there was.
Her fists clenched, knotting the fabric of Twist’s trousers as she clung to his legs and agonized over how she was going to survive this minutes-long anticipatory heart attack. She was tightening, tightening—
Nothing.
Suddenly nothing.
The torturous stroking and spiraling pleasure were gone, and she picked her head up and swiveled to look behind herself.
Twist turned the silver blankness of his mask toward her. “Not yet, princess. You have to be a good girl to earn that.”
Colleen fell off his lap. “What?”
He leaned down with his elbows on his knees, tilting his head. “Did you forget the lesson of the spanking so soon?”
Well, jeez, she couldn’t answer yes to that because then he’d spank her again, but if he did spank her, he might touch her again, but he might stop short and leave her hanging again.
Saying no was worse.
As she sat at his feet on the floor where she’d landed, her frustration came out as a small “Eep,” and she clamped both hands over her mouth and shook her head so hard that her long blond ponytails wove through the air around her like gymnasts’ ribbons.
Twist laughed. “I think you might have learnt your lesson, princess. But are you ready to be a good girl?”
Wait, she could answer this one.
She dropped her hands away from her mouth. “Yes, sir.”
“Now that’s what I like to hear.” He leaned back in his throne and rested his palms on the arms of the chair. “I will warn you that any further punishments will become harsher.”
“Yes, please,” she blurted, her heart in her throat.
Sitting on the chair, Twist didn’t move for a moment, but neither did he glance down like he previously had when he’d seemed to be disappointed or measuring what he had to say. If anything, he seemed to be contemplating his next move.
When he spoke, his voice was again gravelly and deliberately slow. “Since you didn’t want to undress earlier in the dark, undress here except for anything covering identifiable characteristics, and leave the boots on.”
The downward-facing spotlight above Twist’s head cut dark shadows under his jaw, but enough light spilled from the cone that he would be able to see everything if she undressed right there in front of him. Like, he was going to be able to see the place on her thigh where she’d nicked herself shaving.
Humiliation doused her. He would see her struggle with the too-tight costume, and he’d see the rolls of pudge coating her body.
Twist waited, motionless.
It seemed that she had few choices. She could either do what he’d told her or defy him and risk another spanking.
Or she could leave.
