Page 18 of Beg Me
The second follows quickly, landing on my left cheek with a crack that echoes in the quiet room.
"Two! Thank you, Sir." My voice is steadier now, finding a rhythm in the ritual.
"You're learning." His approval washes over me like warm honey.
The third strike catches the sensitive spot where my thigh meets my ass. I cry out but remember my duty.
"Three! Thank you, Sir." Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, not from pain but from the intensity of it all.
The fourth lands across both cheeks again, and I arch my back, pushing into it rather than away.
"Four! Thank you, Sir." My voice breaks slightly as tears begin to spill.
His hand rests on my heated skin, rubbing gentle circles. "One more. Color?"
"Green," I whisper, surprised by how much I mean it.
The final strike is the hardest yet. I sob as it lands, my entire body trembling.
"Five! Thank you, Sir." The tears flow freely now, my body surrendering completely to the moment.
Suddenly, his hands are on me, turning me around, pulling me against his chest. I collapse into him, trembling and crying, my naked body pressed against his clothed one.
"There you are," he murmurs into my hair, one hand cradling my head while the other strokes my back. "Such a good girl. You took that so beautifully."
I cling to him, overwhelmed by the storm of emotions. Pain, relief, arousal, surrender—they all swirl together until I can't separate one from another.
"Look at you," he continues, his voice a low rumble against my ear. "My filthy little slut, crying from her first spanking while her pussy drips down her thighs."
The degradation hits differently now, not as a punishment but as recognition, acceptance. Yes, I am exactly what he says.And somehow, in his arms, that feels like the most honest thing I've ever been.
"You're perfect," he whispers, the praise weaving through the degradation like golden thread. "My perfect, dirty toy."
I press my face into his chest, breathing in his scent as my tears gradually slow. His hand moves to cup my ass, fingers tracing the heated skin with possessive care.
"How does it feel?" he asks. His commanding voice vibrates through his chest, and I can feel the rumble against me as he holds me tight.
"Like I'm finally where I belong," I answer without thinking, the words coming from somewhere deep within.
His arms tighten around me, and for a moment, I feel something shift between us—something beyond the dynamic, beyond the roles. Something real.
He hasn't even fucked me yet, but from the look in his eyes, I think that's about to change.
EIGHT
Colt steps back, his eyes darkening as he takes in my naked form. I feel completely exposed, standing there in nothing but my heels while he remains fully dressed. The contrast makes me acutely aware of the power imbalance between us and how much it turns me on.
"On your knees," he commands, his voice dropping to that register that makes my insides clench.
I sink down, the floor hard against my knees. Looking up at him from this position feels right somehow, like I've finally found my place.
"If you want me to fuck you," he says, unbuckling his belt with deliberate slowness, "you're going to have to beg for it."
My throat goes dry at the sound of leather sliding through belt loops. "Please," I whisper.
Colt raises an eyebrow. "Please what?"
"Please fuck me." The words come out shaky, uncertain.
