Page 23 of Crushed
There were buttons under each piece of furniture that she could secretly tap to alert the security guards, and words she could say that would do the same thing. But Scarlett stayed positioned on the bench. Eager for my touch, waiting for it, she adjusted her position, curving her lower back into an arch, as if to ready that sweet little ass for my hand.
I spanked her again, hard, this time cupping her flesh and pressing into her, my erection against her thighs. She shuddered, and I leaned down, hovering over her, resting my hands behind hers on the bench, as if about to fuck her from behind. My jacket brushed the sides of her hips. My cock pressed against my pants, eager for the warmth of her ass.
“How does it make you feel?” I asked again. The heat from my spanking had roamed through her entire body, tickling her cheeks into a light pink blush. Her whole body surrendered to it, blushing at the pain, at the pleasure.
“Ashamed,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because I like it so much.”
The words were said in a whisper, like she couldn’t risk saying them aloud or the roots would stretch deeper in her soul. I lifted from the bench, walking around her once again. When she saw my pants come into view, she stared at my erection for a moment, then lifted her chin from the bench, her eyes finding mine.
“Touch yourself,” I said.
Her lips opened in confusion, and I bent down, taking one of her hands and helping her off of the equipment. I gestured to the chair along the wall with stirrups to help spread the legs, half gynecological exam, half sexual humiliation. She shimmied her dress down to her thighs before walking to it. After she was seated, she looked up at me with those amber eyes. I stepped closer.
“Touch yourself,” I repeated.
“You don’t want to spank me some more?” she asked quietly.
So she still wanted to be spanked. There was time for that. Another night.
“I know what I want,” I said.
With hesitation in every move, she pulled down her thong, stepping out of her shoes, then sat back on the chair, letting her dress get pushed to her hips again. With the balls of her feet in each stirrup, she was spread before me. The blush in her cheeks deepened into a crimson red that could have rivaled the color on her lips. Her lower lips glistened with her sweet arousal.
I wanted to touch her. Damn it, I wanted to fuck her. But I couldn’t let myself get involved, not when very few women could give me what I needed. Especially someone like Scarlett, a woman who had a motivation that brought her to me. Something was off about her, and it had to do with me. She was searching me out. I wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t about the money, but something else that brought her here to me. And once I found that out, I would use it to my advantage.
Unless I reached her limits and pushed her to run away first.
Her fingers rubbed her clit in circles. I stood over her, looking down, watching as her eyes crossed over my hard cock, begging to rip through my trousers. Her eyes met mine, and she looked away, bringing her knees together to hide herself and I put a firm hand on her legs, pushing them apart.
“No,” I said.
She bit her lip, that painted red skin pinched between white teeth, and held it there as she rubbed herself, dipping her fingers inside of her folds and using her dripping need to rub her clit. It was almost as if she was comfortable doing this, being on display for me, like this wasn’t the first time she had done this. Being spanked was new, but showing me how much she got off on being watched, wasn’t new to her. Most women didn’t like being under that much scrutiny. And though Scarlett hid behind false moves, hiding her true self, she knew she liked this. That she was turned on by my hand on her ass, by the waves of heat rolling through her, reaching her cheeks.
I kept expecting her to find that limit. To break. To decide she didn’t want to be put through this. But Scarlett exceeded my expectations, especially for someone who was as new to kink as she was.
Her breathing quickened. I grabbed her other hand and guided it to her lower lips, pressing her to finger herself, and she did, sweat glistening on her forehead. I brushed the backs of my fingers along her cheeks, stroking her with a softness that I hadn’t intended.
“Come,” I said. “Come, Scarlett.”
She shuddered with abandon, biting her lip between her teeth, and when she relaxed, a damp area of blood darkened her lips. Even as she broke the skin, she came through the pain. She came because of it.
