“Turn around and put your hands on the trunk of the car.”
I obeyed, feeling a little sick. He ran his hands over my back before tugging down my jeans. Immediately my pussy creamed. I was hot for him.
It still felt cheap.
Cole pushed me lower, so I almost kissed the trunk of the car. With my backside pointed at him, I spread my legs as far as I could with my jeans still on. I waited in silent acquiescence, telling myself at least it was Cole, and not some other dickhead officer.
The rain kept falling. I stared at the water droplets on the trunk of the car.
Smack! Something hit my panty-clad bottom, hard enough to drive me forward. My body jerked in shock.
Cole followed it up with a pattern of strikes to my ass while I bent over, too stunned to call out. Then his palm caught the underside of my bottom. The sting penetrated through the haze of booze and weed, and I gasped and reared up, trying to escape.
He put his hand on the back of my neck, holding me down as he did it again.
“Cole! That hurts.”
“Good.” A flurry of swats had me squirming. I burned with more than just the pain from the flat of his hand, though. I was a grown woman of twenty-two, bent over the back of a cop car getting her bottom spanked like a naughty little girl.
My insides tingled.
He stopped long enough to peel down my panties. I caught my breath, waiting for him to take me for real. But no, his hand came down again, a flurry of spanks that made me cry out. Each smack felt harder than the last. I tried wriggling, but he gripped the back of my neck harder, holding me still. Not being able to move somehow added to the pain. My buns were going to be red hot by the end of this, and I couldn’t escape.
If this was a new take on corporal punishment, I didn’t like it. I’d rather just go to jail.
He continued spanking me, adding a lecture in a low, hard voice.
“You are in huge trouble. You’re going to do as I say and keep your mouth shut. And you don’t ever, ever proposition a man of the law. Ever, ever again.” His hand came down particularly hard at that point.
“Okay, okay,” I shouted.
“I mean it, Regina. You find yourself in the back of a cop car again, you keep a polite tone and you don’t disrespect the officer, or yourself, by offering sexual favors. Do you promise?”
“I promise!” Goddammit. I was wet and cold and my butt stung so bad. His hands were made of concrete. “Just stop. You’re hurting me!”
“I would never, ever hurt you.”
I whimpered as the flat of his hand hit one cheek and pain reverberated through my already sore bottom. “What do you call this then?”
“A wake up call.”
Sheriff Sadist smacked me on the other butt cheek. The force of his palm drove away any lingering numbness left by the pot or booze. He paused.
I held my breath, hoping it was over. When Cole touched me again, he stroked my bottom gently.
“Are you okay?” Did I hear a tinge of concern in his voice?
I nodded frantically, hoping he wouldn’t touch me lower and find out just how okay I was. I felt tingly all over, and not just from the pain. The sting awakened something deeper. Not just arousal, though I felt that very faintly, a prickle between my legs. He could tell me to do anything and I would, without asking questions.
That scared me more than anything.
“Good.” His voice hardened. “You do as I say, and you don’t give me any lip.” He emphasized by squeezing one hot butt cheek, and I went up on my tiptoes. “Understand?”
I sagged against the car, trying to catch my breath.
“The correct answer isyes, sir,” he prompted.
“Yes, sir.” I felt numb. Cole Townsend had spanked me. I still couldn’t believe it.
