Page 87 of The Psychopaths

She trembles as my fingers press against her core through the thin fabric. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make you understand the difference,” I tell her, stroking slowly, “between enduring something and begging for it.”

“Take these off.” I tug at her jeans, stepping back to give her space.

Her fingers tremble on the waistband, hesitation warring with desire in her eyes. For a moment, I think she might refuse. But she doesn’t. Instead she slides them down her legs, revealing long, perfect limbs and simple black panties that match her discarded bra.

“Good girl.” I move to sit on the edge of the bed, patting my thigh. “Now come here.”

Understanding dawns in her eyes. “You’re going to...spank me?”

“Among other things.” I gesture impatiently. “Don’t make me tell you twice.”

She approaches slowly, uncertainty in every step.

When she reaches me, I guide her across my lap, positioning her so her upper body rests on the mattress, her ass perfectly presented.

“Five for disobeying me and going downstairs.” My palm rests lightly on the curve of her ass, feeling her tense beneath it. “Five for the martyrdom act at dinner. And we’ll see how many more it takes for you to be honest about what you want.”

“I don’t?—”

My hand comes down sharply on her right cheek, cutting off her protest. The sound echoes in the quiet room, followed by her startled gasp.

“One,” I count softly, rubbing the pink mark blooming under her panties. “Still want to tell me what you don’t want?”

Her only response is a shaky exhale.

“I thought so.”

Another sharp smack, this time to her left cheek. “Two.”

She flinches, but doesn’t try to move away. My free hand slides beneath her, fingers finding her hot, damp center.

“Getting wetter with each strike,” I observe, circling her clit through her panties. “Still want to pretend this is just a sacrifice for your stepbrother?”

“Please,” she whispers, though whether she’s asking me to stop or continue isn’t clear.

“Please what?” I deliver the third smack, harder than the previous two.

She buries her face in the bedding, muffling a sound that might be pain or pleasure or both. I take the opportunity to tug her panties down, baring her completely to my gaze.

“Beautiful,” I murmur, stroking the reddened skin.

The fourth and fifth strikes come in quick succession, my palm connecting with bare flesh. She cries out, body jerking, but my arm around her waist keeps her pinned in place.

“Halfway there.” I slip my fingers between her thighs, finding her slick and swollen. “Still think this is just physical?”

“No,” she admits shakily, hips pushing back against my hand.

I slide one finger inside her, feeling her tight heat clench around me. “Tell me what you want, Lilian. Be honest.”

“More,” she gasps as I add a second finger, stretching her gently.

“More what? More punishment?” I bring my palm down again on her reddened flesh. “More pleasure?” My fingers curl inside her, finding the spot that makes her moan. “You need to be specific.”

She writhes against my hand, caught between the sharp sting of my palm and the pleasure building between her thighs. “Both. Please. I need?—”

Another smack cuts off her words, followed immediately by my fingers pressing deeper inside her. The combination pulls a broken sob from her throat.

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