Page 17 of Beg Me
His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling just enough to tilt my head back. "That's not what I'm looking for, pretty toy."
Understanding dawns on me. We had discussed honorifics in our text exchange. Colt likes to be called Sir. Excitement flutters in my core at the thought of calling him such, the submissive nature of that one word. "Yes,Sir."
He releases my hair with a satisfied hum. "Better. Now, if you miss a count or forget to thank me, we start over. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Sir."
His hand leaves my back, and I tense, waiting. The anticipation is almost worse than what I imagine the pain will be—the not knowing, the waiting, the?—
The first strike lands with a sharp crack that echoes in the quiet room. The sting blooms across my right cheek, shocking more than painful. For a moment, I forget everything. The counting, the thanking, my own name all disappear from my mind.
"I'm waiting," Colt reminds me, his voice stern.
"One," I gasp. "Thank you, Sir."
"Good girl."
The praise washes through me, soothing the sting. I relax slightly, thinking maybe this won't be so?—
The second strike lands on my left cheek, harder than the first. The pain is sharper this time, radiating outward in waves of heat.
"Two," I blurt. "Thank you, Colt."
His hand rubs the spot he just struck, soothing the burn. "You're doing well," he murmurs. "How does it feel?"
"It... stings," I admit. "But not in a bad way."
"That's because your body knows what you need, even if your mind is still catching up."
The third strike catches me off guard. It's lower, where my thigh meets my ass. I cry out, unprepared for the intensity.
"Three," I manage after a moment. "Thank you, Sir."
I take stock of my body, my emotions. The sting is transforming into something warmer, deeper. My skin feels hypersensitive, alive in a way I've never experienced.
The fourth strike is the hardest yet, landing directly across both cheeks. I yelp, my body jerking forward against the bench.
I open my mouth, but the words stick in my throat as the pain radiates outward. My mind goes blank, overwhelmed by sensation.
"I don't hear you counting," Colt's voice cuts through the haze, sharp with disapproval.
"I—I'm sorry," I stammer, realizing my mistake.
"Rules are rules, Tess." His tone leaves no room for negotiation. "We start over."
My stomach drops. "But?—"
"Are you safe wording?" The question is direct, but not unkind.
I take a shaky breath, considering. The sting in my ass is already fading to a warm throb. My pussy clenches at the thought of more. "No, Sir."
"Then we start over."
The strike lands on my right cheek again, slightly harder than before. I gasp at the renewed sting.
"One," I count immediately. "Thank you, Sir."
"Good girl."
