He cut me off with a slow smile. “You were perfect. The Kenya number was fine.”
“But what if it wasn’t?” I said, feeling the nerves begin to tangle up in my stomach. “What if I got it wrong and everyone thinks I’m an idiot and?—”
“Laura,” he said, voice suddenly very quiet. “You know what happens to girls who get obsessed with being perfect?”
I looked up, unsure if he was joking. “What happens?”
He grinned, the kind of grin that made my insides light up and my thighs press together under the table. “They get taken home and spanked until they remember that being a good girl for their master is more important than being perfect. Then they take his cock in their tight little anus until they learn their lesson.”
I couldn’t help it—the heat hit me right between the legs. I squeezed my knees together, but it did nothing to stop the need rising in my body. I swallowed hard as I realized that I needed Mike’s firm hand more than I ever had before: that his command of my body had only deepened, to an almost frightening degree, over the month since he had first spanked me, fucked my bottom, opened my pussy on his enormous manhood. After the past few days, during which there had been no time for him to use me with his cock, I needed it all, right away.
“Promise?” I asked him, even as my breathing quickened in nervous anticipation.
“Promise,” he told me, his eyes narrowing. “Let’s go home.”
The End
