Page 105 of Axe Marks the Spot

Dane tugs on the chain, and I gasp from the sharp sting. He grins and does it again before sitting back, his hungry gaze taking in my half-clothed, kneeling form. I’m sure my hair is a mess, and my lipstick is gone or smeared, but with the way he’s eating me up, I don’t care. His gaze is satisfied, and there’s no missing the massive bulge that presses against the zipper of his jeans.

Another moment under his stare passes before he stands. He looms over me, his presence dominating. I fight the natural urge to look at the ground, because he didn’t tell me to look down. I also fight the flash of disappointment, because I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping he’d make good on his threat to use my smart mouth. But I’m putting my trust in him and letting him lead.

Dane takes a moment and clears his food and glass from the head of the table so they’re out of the way before holding out his hand to me. “Stand up.”

His command is strong and gives no room to argue. Not that I would.

I put my hand in his, grateful for the help. Once I’m up, the toy in my underwear presses more firmly against my sensitive core, and I grit my teeth so I don’t come. His smile is knowing, and I can see he revels in my struggle.

“Bend over the table, Lindsey.”

My lips part to argue, but his stern glare stops me. I fight another wave of embarrassment and do as he asks.

“That’s it,” he says. “Chest flat, arms out, and press your palms against the surface by your head.”

The cool wood makes me shiver, and the chain on the clamps bangs against the table. When my nipples press to the surface, it’s not comfortable, and the clamps bite into my skin. I turn my head so my cheek is also against the table and I can see Dane.

He runs his hand down my back in a way that feels like praise, then he walks around me and starts to shift my body into the exact position he wants, moving my hands wider. Once he’s done, he stands behind me. His feet gently kick at mine, forcing me to spread my legs slightly apart. I would have thought something like this would feel clinical, but all I am is excited. The humiliation of it is turning me on in ways I can’t explain.

A second later, he rucks the bottom of my dress up around my midsection, completely exposing my butt and the pair of yellow, high-waisted lace underwear I’m wearing to him. They’ve ridden up, and the cheeks of my ass are exposed. When I shift under his gaze, the movement reminds me that my nipples are clamped and pressed into the table.

Dane remains behind me, and while I can see his hair and parts of his body, I can’t see his hands. I know where they are a moment later, though, because he ghosts his fingers over my now-trembling thighs. I bite my lip to keep from moaning, but his touch feels so incredibly good, and I know I’m beginning to crave it like an addict. I want him all over; I want to feel his chest against my back as he slides his dick inside me for the first time.

My hips shift against the edge of the table as if they’re chasing friction, and a gentle slap against my ass stops my movement.

Oh my god, he spanked me.

“Such a needy little brat,” Sir tsks. “Did I say you could move?”

“No, Sir.”

Sir isn’t touching my body. In fact, he’s not moving at all. If I was blindfolded, I would have thought he’d left the room. But just when I’m about to beg for a touch, any kind, his fingers ghost over the band of my underwear.

He gives me space to tell him to stop, but I don’t. His fingers curl under the elastic and he pulls them down. The toy drops away with them, but he must catch it, because I don’t hear it hit the ground.

He works the wet lace down, stretching them over my parted legs, but when he gets to my knees, he leaves them there, trapping me with the tightly drawn fabric. He moves again and steps into view, placing the toy that was just on my pussy near my face. It’s no longer buzzing, but it’s glistening, and I understand this is a way to show me he’s in control, that what’s happening to my body is because of him.

“Are you ready for your punishment?”

My focus moves from the toy to my Sir’s heated gaze. “Will it hurt, Sir?”

He comes closer to me, his fingers tracing down my cheek. “It will.” My body shivers, and his thumb shifts to press against my lower lip until it slips against my tongue, the salty taste of his skin warming my taste buds. “But you want it to hurt, don’t you, baby?”

My fantasies of him spanking me have filled my mind since before the idea of us ever being intimate became a possibility. He removes his thumb so I can speak. “Yes, Sir. I want it to hurt.”

“We’ll start easy. Ten spanks, and I want you to count each one. Don’t be afraid to use your traffic colors—I need you to be honest with me if it’s too much. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“That’s my girl.” He strokes my cheek then holds out his palm. “Now kiss my hand, and tell me you want it. Tell me you want me to teach my smart-mouthed girl a lesson.”

I kiss his palm without hesitation and respond, “I want your hand, Sir. Please, teach me a lesson.”

His rumbling hum of pleasure fills the space before he steps back to begin.

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Dane