Page 14 of Kash
“Yooooowwww!” I holler, my cheeks heating up in no time as Kash spanks me. “Owwww! Owww! Owwww!”
“Perhaps this will make you think twice next time,” Kash says, his voice gruff but a hint of wry humor in there too. “Now be a good boy and keep those juicy cheeks in place for Daddy to give you everything you need to be better behaved from here on out.”
“D-D-D-Daddy?” I splutter, my brain not able to comprehend what I’ve just heard as another flurry of spanks land on my butt. “Owwww!”
Soon enough, I’m yelping in pain rhythmically along with Kash’s swats on my throbbing bottom. And despite the fact that I’m in pain, my cock is still throbbing too, even as Kash ends the punishment with what feels like a medley of at least ten spanks.
“Now get up and stand in the corner with your hands on your head,” Kash barks. “Don’t worry, there will be time to cool your bottom later. For now, you can enjoy that warm glow…”
“Yes, D…” I say, my voice cutting off abruptly as I walk toward the wall, my hands on my head.
I hear a sound.
And so too does Kash.
A sharp crackle cuts through the air—a police radio, faint but unmistakable, coming from somewhere outside. It’s close. Not super-close. But close enough to have me right on the edge.
My stomach drops.
“Kash,” I whisper, my voice low, urgent. “You hear that?”
He freezes, his head snapping toward the window.
The radio’s static grows louder, voices murmuring something about a “suspect sighting” and “coastal road.”
Kash’s face hardens, and he moves to the blinds, next to me peering out into the night.
“Stay here,” Kash says, his voice a command, no room for argument. “Donotmove.”
I nod, my heart racing, the thrill of our moment replaced by a cold knot of fear.
The cops are close—too close.
And I’ve just put myself right in the middle of Kash’s mess.
Whatever he’s running from, it’s real, and it’s very,verydangerous.
Chapter 5
Kash
Fuck. This isn’t good.
I don’t need a gun fight right now.
In fact, I don’t need anything other than these cops to move on nice and fast…
The police radio crackles again, a faint hiss that cuts through the night like a knife. My heart’s pounding, my hand gripping the edge of the blind as I peer out into the darkness.
The cruiser’s out there, somewhere on the coastal road, its spotlight sweeping the bluff. I can’t see it yet, but the static’s too close for comfort, murmuring about a “suspect sighting.”
This ain’t good at all.
Someone’s talking—maybe that nosy clerk at the general store, maybe some local who saw my bike before I hid it. Cresthaven’s supposed to be my hideout, but it’s starting to feel like a trap.
I might need to move out of here.
But what then?
