Page 26 of Beg Me
I take a breath, centering myself in this moment, in my body, in my desire. "Green, Sir. Very green."
I can hear the smile in his voice when he responds. "That's my good girl."
The paddle lifts from my skin, and I hold my breath, waiting. The first strike lands with a sharp crack that echoes in the quiet room. A sting blooms across my right cheek, shocking but not overwhelming.
"One," I count automatically. "Thank you, Sir."
His free hand soothes the spot he just struck, his touch gentle against the heated skin. "So perfect," he murmurs. "So ready to take what I give you."
The paddle lifts again, and I brace myself for the next blow. But instead of striking, Colt continues to trail it over my skin, building anticipation, making me wait. My muscles tense with expectation, then gradually relax when the strike doesn't come.
Just as I start to ease into the sensation, the paddle lands again, harder this time, on my left cheek. I gasp, my fingers clutching the bedspread.
"Two," I manage. "Thank you, Sir."
His hand returns to caress the sting away, and I press back into his touch, craving more contact. The leather continues its teasing path across my skin, and I close my eyes, surrendering to the dual sensations of pleasure and pain.
The third strike lands with a resounding crack, making me cry out. The heart-shaped marks must be forming now, little brands of ownership across my skin.
"Three. Thank you, Sir," I gasp, my voice trembling.
"Good girl," Colt murmurs, his hand soothing the sting. "Two more."
The fourth strike catches me where my thigh meets my ass, and I yelp, unprepared for the intensity in that sensitive spot.
"Four. Thank you, Sir." Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but it's not from pain—it's from the overwhelming sensation of surrender.
The final strike is the hardest, landing across both cheeks with a force that steals my breath.
"Five! Thank you, Sir," I manage, my voice breaking.
"Perfect," Colt says, and I hear the paddle being tossed aside. "So perfect for me."
I hear the telltale rip of a condom package and then a moment later his hands grip my hips, and I feel him position himself behind me. The blunt head of his cock presses against my entrance, and I realize how wet I am—soaked from the spanking, from being marked as his.
"Look how wet you are," he growls, sliding easily into me with one powerful thrust. "Getting spanked turns you into such a dirty little slut."
"Yes," I moan, pushing back against him, taking him deeper. "Your slut."
His hand tangles in my hair, pulling my head back as he establishes a punishing rhythm. Each thrust pushes me further up the bed, and I have to brace myself against the mattress.
"Tell me," he demands, his voice rough with desire. "Tell me what you are."
"I'm a dirty slut," I gasp as he hits that perfect spot inside me. "Your dirty slut who gets wet from being spanked."
"That's right," he growls, his free hand reaching around to find my clit. His fingers circle it with maddening precision. "My filthy little toy who loves being used."
His words send heat flooding through me, and I clench around him, already close to the edge. The dual sensations of his cock filling me and his fingers on my clit are overwhelming.
"You love this, don't you?" he demands, punctuating each word with a thrust. "Being bent over and fucked after I mark that pretty ass."
"Yes," I sob, past caring how desperate I sound. "I love it. I love being your toy."
His fingers work faster on my clit, and I feel the pressure building, a tidal wave I can't hold back.
"Come for me," he commands. "Come now, while I'm fucking you like the dirty slut you are."
His words push me over the edge. I shatter around him, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash through me. My pussy clenches around his cock, drawing him deeper as my orgasm seems to go on forever.
