Page 68 of Thor

"You're doing so fucking perfect," Thor praised, his hand now openly massaging my ass, which had to be pink, maybe even red by now. The thought of how I must look—draped across his lap, ass raised and colored from his hand—sent another rush of heat through me.

The eighth strike was the hardest yet, landing right at the fullest part of my right cheek. I yelped, but it wasn't from pain—at least, not entirely. It was from the jolt of pleasure that shot straight between my legs.

"Eight," Thor counted, and now I could definitely hear the strain in his voice. "Two more, princess. Can you take two more for me?"

"Yes," I gasped, and it came out embarrassingly needy. "Yes, please."

His hand stilled on my back. "Please?" he repeated, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Fuck, you are something else."

I should have been mortified. Was I actually begging for more? But my body had taken over, operating on pure instinct now. And every instinct was screaming for more of his touch, more of this swirling mix of pain and pleasure that was making me dizzy.

"Nine." The next strike fell, and this time I definitely pushed up to meet it, a breathy moan escaping me. The sound seemed to affect Thor because I felt him shift underneath me, adjusting his position. That's when I became aware of the hard ridge beneath his jeans, pressing against my stomach. He was aroused by this too.

Knowing that—feeling the physical evidence of his desire—pushed me deeper into that heady space. I was pleasing him. He was enjoying this as much as I was. The realization was intoxicating.

"Last one," he said, his voice tight with restraint. "Ready?"

I didn't just nod this time. I arched my back, presenting myself shamelessly. "Green," I breathed. "So green."

His hand came down for the tenth and final strike, the hardest yet, right across both cheeks. "Ten," he growled, and the sound of his voice—so primal, so hungry—sent a shudder through me.

As his palm connected, I felt my hips begin a subtle rocking motion against his thigh. I couldn't help it. The pressure, the heat, the incredible intensity of sensation—it all combined into a throbbing need between my legs that demanded attention.

Thor's hand remained on my ass, not moving away this time but pressing, kneading the heated flesh. "So perfect for me," he murmured, voice rough with desire. "Such a good girl, taking your discipline so well."

I whimpered, the praise hitting something deep inside me. My hips continued their subtle movement, seeking friction against his hard thigh. I should have been embarrassed—I was basically humping his leg like a horny teenager—but I was too far gone for shame. There was only this building pressure, this desperate need for release.

"Thor," I gasped, not even sure what I was asking for.

His hand slid down, still not touching anywhere truly intimate, but close enough that I could feel the heat of his palm through the thin cotton of my panties. "What do you need, princess?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that I could feel vibrating through his body.

I didn't know how to answer. I'd never been in this state before—this strange halfway place between discipline and arousal, where my mind was floating and my body was on fire. All I knew was that I needed more. More contact, more pressure, more of him.

"I don't . . . I can't . . ." I panted, words escaping me as my body continued its unconscious movement against his thigh.

"Shh," he soothed, his hand moving in slow circles on my lower back. "It's okay. Whatever you're feeling is okay."

But it didn't feel okay. It felt overwhelming, like standing on the edge of a cliff. The pressure between my legs had built to an almost painful point, and every slight movement sent shockwaves of pleasure through my system.

Thor's hand continued its gentle circles on my back, occasionally dipping lower to brush the upper curve of my ass. Each touch sent another jolt of electricity through me, pushing me closer to that edge. My small sounds of need grew more frequent, more desperate, my hips rocking more obviously against his thigh.

"That's it," he encouraged, voice tight with his own restraint. "Let go for me, princess. I've got you."

His permission was all I needed. The coil of tension inside me wound tighter and tighter, and I found myself shamelessly grinding against his thigh, chasing the pressure I needed. I was making sounds I'd never heard from my own throat before—needy, desperate little moans that would have mortified me if I'd been in my right mind.

But I wasn't in my right mind. I was somewhere else entirely—somewhere where nothing existed except Thor's strength beneath me, his hand on my back, and the building, insistent pleasure that was about to break over me like a wave.

It hit without warning, a sudden, overwhelming orgasm that crashed through me like a tidal wave. I cried out, my back arching sharply as pleasure exploded between my legs and radiated outward. My fingers clutched desperately at his jean-clad leg, nails digging in as my body convulsed with release.

"Fuck," I gasped, the word barely recognizable through my broken moan. My hips bucked against his thigh of their own accord, grinding down to extend the impossible pleasure that was ripping through me.

Thor's massive hand pressed firmly against my lower back, grounding me as I rode out the wave. I felt the tremors of my climax begin to subside, little aftershocks of pleasure rippling through me, leaving me limp and disoriented across his lap.

As the intensity receded, another feeling flooded in to replace it: mortification.

Holy shit. I'd just come. From a spanking. Without being touched anywhere near my pussy. Sprawled across Thor's lap like some kind of . . . what? What did you call someone who got off on being disciplined?

My face flamed hotter than my ass, and I buried it against the bedding, unable to look at him. What must he think of me? This wasn't normal. People didn't orgasm from being spanked. Did they?

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