“Silly girl,” he says, rubbing my ass almost affectionately before smacking it hard enough to make it sting like hell again. “You’re going to pay for this. Every dollar. Fifty thousand of them.”
He smacks me hard and long, until my ass feels like it is swollen and volcanically hot.
“That was fifty,” he says. “Imagine how many more you have coming.”
“You’re sick,” I complain.
“I am many things,” he says. “That’s true. But so are you, and you know you deserve this. I’m not going to take the money from you. You can keep it and do what you want with it.”
“You’re going to let me keep thirty grand?”
“I am. But I am also going to make you pay for it.”
He picks up a wooden spoon from the counter and starts to use it on me. The shock of being spanked with that makes me squeal out like an animal. The wood after his hand feels particularly sharp and harsh. When he is done with me, I am going to be absolutely unable to sit down
“It’s time you understand that your life as you once knew it is over. I own you now, Laura. I will let you have a few freedoms, because I am unable to reveal my identity at this moment, but believe me, you are well and truly owned. I suggest you start acting like it.”
“What does that even mean?” I gasp the question as he whacks the spoon across my cheeks again, giving me two sharp, harsh slaps on each side.
“It means speaking with respect.”
“What did you do to Dave?” I am almost scared to ask the question. I have a horrible feeling deep in my belly that Dave is not okay anymore. “Is he still alive?”
“What was he doing here, Laura?” The question holds no overt judgment, but I know it’s dangerous.
“He probably just wanted a place to crash. He’s kind of a loser and he relies on me to help him out when he fucks up his life.”
“And you allow this?”
“No. I told him not to come, but he never listens to me.”
“That was a mistake,” my stalker says, rubbing his hand softly over my ass. “Don’t worry about Dave,” he says. “He will not be bothering you anymore.”
“He didn’t deserve to die,” I whimper.
“You should worry more about yourself, and less about a man who wields a weapon sloppily,” my stalker says. I wish I knew his name.
He spanks that thought out of my head, starting over again. This might have begun as a punishment, but right now it feels more like he is trying to brand my fucking ass.
“Next time I give you a gift, you accept it gratefully,” he lectures.
“I could never have afforded the gas, let alone the insurance on a thing like that,” I argue.
“I would have paid for both.”
“Why? Why do you give a fuck about me? What’s wrong with you? I’m nobody.”
“Oh, Laura,” he says. “You’re not nobody. Far from it.” He smooths his hand over my ass, then smacks it hard enough to make me yelp again.
“That’s not an answer!”
“You’re not ready for answers. For the moment, you need to just be a good girl for me.”
I reach up and try to grab his balaclava off, but he grabs my wrist and pins it behind my back while landing a whole new series of slaps on my already aching ass.
“Stop!”
“Not until you submit,” he growls. “I’m getting far too much attitude from you.”
