Page 1 of A New Year's Toy

CHAPTER ONE

Nola

Tears stream down like rivers along the length of my cheeks.

Two or three catch at the strands of my messy brown hair, dampening it.

Another two land on the wall-to-wall carpet. Two blotches that darken the dense, cream fibers.

Though they aren’t the only things to drop to the floor.

The cane that served to land blows on my behind produces a soft thud when it meets with the plush fabric. The remote control for the butt plug is next in line.

“Good girl.”

Alistair’s lips are at my shoulder, his short stubble at my neck. His chiseled arm envelopes my belly from underneath, supporting my body weight since my shaky arms nearly lose the battle of holding me on the coffee table.

“Hold still, sweetheart.” He removes the silicone toy from my butt in one long, careful motion.

My boyfriend of five months has taken our sex toy classes to a whole new level today.

His cock possessed my cunt, the new toys I brought owned the rest of me; the vibrating butt plug my behind, the cane condemning my ass and thighs to one brutal yet calculated blow one after the other.

And while I feel my skin swelling from the thrashing, a swift thought runs through my head. I did well to order the new cane with the option to add a rubber cover on it to smooth out the blows.

The clients of my shop, We Love You, are going to love it.

After months of working in a high-end, yet completely unethical sex shop, my business plan gained me a grant to open up the store as I envisioned it to be.

An ethical place. Somewhere I don’t have to call some of the customers in secret, offering them free of charge non-life-threatening products instead of those Roger, my former manager, had up for sale.

Even though it’s how I met Alistair, I still hate the place. I remember vividly how out of the entire merchandise his online order—for the woman he stopped seeing shortly before I called him—he hadn’t chosen one single decent product.

He couldn’t have known, of course. They were marketed as the top of the line. This was true for some toys in our store. Some. Not these.

But behind my mask of continuous detest of the place, I can’t forget that was the day I met him. How he got curious about me, how he offered to teach me about the toys I’d never played with, myself.

Sigh.

He supported me from the start, supported me when I opened the shop thanks to a grant I received, and supports me now as I operate it. Including, but not limited to, experimenting with the toys before we offer them to my clients.

It warms my heart; it truly does. This forty-two-year-old billionaire, owner, and CEO of the largest solar energy provider in the US and many other businesses is always there for me.

The word no doesn’t leave his mouth. Whenever I ask him to try a new product, he’s there to play with me.

He has a million things to do. He works long hours, sometimes having late-night video calls with suppliers from overseas.

Still, he carves the time. Doesn’t keep me waiting.

His universe revolves solely around me.

His Nolita. His sweetheart.

His good little student.

He kisses my cheek after the butt plug is gone. “Such a good girl to take a beating like that.”

A beating and an earth-shattering orgasm. I still can’t decide which was harder to endure.

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