14
BASIA
Igasp when I feel Caleb’s erection, hot against my sensitive skin. Though I had it inside me earlier, Caleb freaked out and left before things even started getting good. I need more. I need everything he can give me.
His callused hand presses against my back, pushing me forward until my head is buried in my pillow. I’m panting against the satin, waiting for his next move.
“Let’s see how good you are at counting, baby.”
The slap rings in the quiet bedroom before I register the pain.
“Ouch!” I yelp, trying to glare over my shoulder at him, but the position and restraints make it difficult.
“That’s not how you sayone, darling. Are we gonna have to go back to school?”
“Yeah, I’ll ask Barb and Emily for tutoring,” I mutter.
I’m rewarded with another stinging slap that has me wincing.
“There’s that bratty mouth I love so much,” Caleb says with a low chuckle. “You have no idea how many times you made me want to punish you.”
“Punish me, how?” I ask breathlessly, wiggling my ass and making him grunt.
“I fantasized about flogging you until your skin turned red,” he murmurs, running his palm over my stinging ass. “I thought about all the different ways I want to tie you. Full-body harness. Frog tie. Suspend you from a hook and use you like a cocksleeve.”
I moan at the visuals he’s painting. I never had the courage to tell my partners about my desire to be dominated and subdued, restrained and manhandled.
“Let’s try again,” he says slowly.
His hand comes down again—measured, controlled. It doesn’t feel like punishment. More like instruction.
I hesitate, my pulse racing, torn between wanting to obey and mouth off again.
“One,” I say softly, deciding to see what happens if I’m a good girl.
“That’s better,” he murmurs. His approval warms me more than the impact ever could. “Again.”
The pattern settles in. Sound. Sensation. His voice anchoring me in the moment.
“Two.”
“Good.”
“Three.”
“Count properly, Basia.”
“Three, Sir.”
Each correction sharpens my focus. My world narrows to numbers and breath and the weight of him behind me—solid, unyielding, present.
By the time I reach six, my thoughts feel distant. Slower. Like the edges of the room have blurred.
“That’s it,” he says quietly. “Stay with me.”
I nod into the pillow, even though I know he can’t really see it.
“I’m here.”
