I can't answer. Can't think. His fingers are doing things that make my brain shut down.
"But you were very, very bad, weren't you?"
His thumb presses harder against my clit and I gasp.
"Those men touched you. Put their hands all over this pretty body." His grip tightens on my throat. "Made you come."
Oh god.
"This body belongs to me. Not them.Me."
His fingers push inside—two at once—and I cry out.
"Say it."
I don't understand what he wants. My mind is fog and need and the feeling of his fingers curling inside me.
"Say you belong to me."
"I—" My voice breaks. "I belong to you."
"Say you're mine."
"I'm yours."
"Again."
"I'm yours. I'm—fuck—I'm yours."
He pulls his fingers out and I actuallywhineat the loss.
Then his hand comes down on my ass.
Hard.
The sound cracks through the air like a gunshot and pain explodes across my skin—sharp, bright,searing—and I scream.
Holyshit.
That hurt.
That actually fucking hurt.
But underneath the pain: pleasure. Deep, throbbing, impossible pleasure radiating from where his palm connected with my flesh.
My pussy clenches around nothing.
"Count them," he says.
Another strike. Harder this time.
I can't breathe. Can't think. The pain is—it's too much and not enough and?—
"Count."
"Two!" I gasp it out. "Two."
His hand comes down again. Same spot. Building heat on top of heat.
