His hand wraps around my throat.His thumb presses into my chin, forcing my gaze upward.He stares down at me, his blue eyes sparkling with humor.The edges wrinkle as he laughs.
“Oh, little bird,” he says, “I'll fuck you.”He leans down, letting his lips brush against my forehead.He whispers against my hairline, “But only when you beg me for it.”
The hand at my throat tightens just enough to make me gasp.His palm presses down against my sternum until my knees buckle.I expect the ground to rise up and crash into my already aching knees, but it doesn't.With his arm banded tightly around my waist, he lowers me slowly.
My face crinkles in confusion.My mind flounders, flopping between being utterly petrified and slightly swoony from his gentle touch and the warmth of his body against mine.I mentally slap myself and try to push the idea ofswooning for my stalkervery far from my mind.
As my knees make contact with the ground, fallen leaves crackle and crunch.Twigs and plant litter scrape against my bare legs.The earthy smell of soil and decay wafts up from beneath me.
He kneels down at my side, never taking his hands off me.The leaves shift under me, sending prickles and itches skittering across my skin.The hand at my throat falls away.I shift my knees, trying to pivot my body to put space between us.The arm around my waist tightens almost to the point of pain.The other lands between my shoulder blades.
With one quick shove, my chest collides with the ground.I turn my head sharply just before, making my cheek scrape against the dirt.I sputter and spit against a leaf that's slipped between my lips.
I'm trapped, unmoving with his body pressed tightly against my side and my face in the dirt.Humiliation becomes a hot, acidic feeling bubbling in my stomach.
A cold breeze whips by, lashing against my skin.I shudder, suddenly keenly aware that I'm entirely on display, my rear up in the air and panties missing.Tears burn in my eyes, some sliding down my cheeks and creating tiny mud puddles on the ground.The sound that escapes my lips can't be described as anything other than a pathetic whine.
“Do not fucking run from me again,” he growls against my neck.“My patience isn't limitless, and tonight, it's run out.”
I squeak in surprise when he grips my hip and yanks my body into his lap, my stomach landing over his thighs.His fingers dig into my skin, surely bruising.I can feel his hard length pressed against my waist.My stomach flips as I try desperately not to think about his cock.
His other hand trails up my leg until it's resting on my ass.His palm rubs a slow circle against my cheek.He repeats the action on the other side.My skin tingles under his touch.When he pulls away, I feel the loss immediately.My skin feels too tight, too cold, too desperate for his warmth.
The air whistles behind me before lightning strikes my ass.A horrible sting lights my nerve endings on fire.I'm not sure the pain registers before or after I hear the slap of his open palm against my skin for a second time.I don't know when the screeching howl explodes from my lips.Is it an echo I hear bouncing between the trees, or am I screaming again?
Rapid slaps thunder against my aching backside.I wiggle and shift in his grasp, trying to get away from the burning ache that rains down on my sensitive globes.“Stop, stop,” I sob.
His breath is hot against my neck when he speaks.“You need to understand who's in charge here, precious.You.Belong.To.Me,” he growls, punctuating each word with a painful smack.
I listen to the sound of his hand connecting with my ass and the symphony of my pitiful cries.My body feels like it's covered in molten lava.The tiny reprieve between hits seems shorter and shorter.The cold night air scarcely touches me.Each time he spanks me, the burning embers light anew, igniting my skin.
“Will you run from me again?”His chest rumbles with his demand.The deep bass of his voice booms against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
Will I?Wouldn't I be crazy not to?Wouldn't it be the definition of insanity not to run from a man who hurts me like this?Who humiliates me like this?It's true; it must be.And yet somehow, underneath the fiery pain, something else is blossoming inside me.Something that makes my core clench.This demanding thing inside me that wants to give in to him.
“No,” I whisper into the dirt.
“Apologize,” he commands.“Apologize to your master.”
I hate that word.Master.I hate how it sounds in his grumbling voice.I hate how it calls to that awful, needy thing inside me.I hate how it makes me shift my hips, pressing my thighs together.I hate that I can feel the wetness dripping between them.
“I-I'm sorry,” I whine.
His hand slams down on me again, this time harder.My jaw clenches so hard that I can feel my teeth scraping together.My mind staggers, cluttered and confused.The tiny, frightened voice inside my head begins screaming,I said what he wanted!I said I was sorry.Why hasn't he stopped?
The thunderous strikes continue, quick and constant.I squirm against his grasp.The soil is cold against my hands as I dig my fingers into the ground.My arms tremble, scarcely able to hold up my own weight as I try to pull away from his body.Chunks of dirt and leaves fly into the air as I try to heave myself forward.I claw and dig, but I can’t get away.
The tension in my muscles makes my entire body shake.I'm certain my knees would have given out long ago if he weren't holding me against him.Another stinging lash whips against my skin and I can’t take it anymore.
Suddenly, words tumble from my lips, but they aren't mine.They can’t be mine because I wouldn’t say those words.They can’t be mine because I wouldn’t give in.The heated, throaty voice isn't mine when it croaks, “I'm sorry, master.”
I close my eyes and bury my head in my hands, waiting for his next strike.It takes a moment for me to realize that the sound of his palm connecting with my ass has ceased to echo through the forest.The next touch I feel is gentle; his hand rubs soft circles over my cheeks until the molten burn dulls into a heated ache.
“That’s my good girl,” he coos against the shell of my ear.
The hand that’s been holding me up slithers up my stomach.The threads of my dress scream in protest as he tears it open down my sternum.I shiver when the cold air hits my chest, but the sudden heat of his palm against my breast makes my breath catch.His thumb traces slowly around my nipple, and I tell myself that it’s just the cold making it stiffen into a hard bud.I struggle to keep my back straight as he rolls it between his fingers.When he pinches my nipples, I fail, arching my back and forcing my breast further into his hand.
He continues his teasing exploration of my breasts, rubbing and pinching until I’m writhing in his lap, unsure if I’m trying to pull away from him or get closer.When I feel the finger of his other hand trace a line up my slit, my eyes rocket open.Like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on me, my mind sharpens with a sudden sense of clarity.
