Page 18 of Her Guardian
“Ready?” Boyd asks, his thick fingers wrapping around my slender arm and pulling me over his lap. His thighs feel like steel underneath me.
“No,” I whimper.
“Right,” he says, his fingers digging into the waistband of my shorts. “These have to come down before you’re ready.”
I gasp when my shorts get tugged down to my knees. Boyd’s fingers graze the back of my thighs as he drags his hand back to my panties. I close my eyes tight and hold my breath as they get bunched around my knees. I squeeze my legs together as tight as they will go, but then I notice something else—I’m gettingwet.
“Now you’re ready,” Boyd says, adjusting me on his lap until I feel his hardness. I’m not the only one who’s aroused. He said he was going to enjoy making me squirm. I didn’t realize it was going to enjoy itthismuch. “Right?”
Boyd places his heavy, callused hand on my bare skin. My eyes open and I shudder.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper, doing my best not to move. “I’m ready.”
Ready for the pain? Ready to get my ass spanked like a bad little girl? I’m not ready for either of those things, but this is the only way to stay in Las Vegas and get the content I need for my podcast.
I gasp when Boyd pulls his hand away, then I get the first stinging slap on my exposed skin. His hand is so big it practically covers my entire bottom. Another slap lands. Then another. I grit my teeth and try to endure it, feeling the sting more pronounced on my left or right cheek, depending on where he targets, but after a few more, the entire surface of my ass stings.
“Ow!” I cry out, tears welling up in my eyes.
“Do you know what kind of horrible things were going through my head while I waited for you downstairs?” he scolds, his hand not slowing down. “Every fucking minute, Sarah. For almost an hour!”
“I’m sorry!” I howl, kicking my feet in response to the pain. “I shouldn’t have made you wait! I didn’t do it on purpose!”
“How hard is it to set a fucking alarm?” he asks, slapping the back of my thighs before spanking my ass several times. “How hard is to follow basic instructions?”
“It was a mistake, Boyd!” I squeal, the stinging sensation starting to burn.
“Mistakes get people killed!” he says angrily, punishing me with stinging slaps while he scolds me. “Even little mistakes! Being late may not do that, and making me sick with worry certainly won’t, but those notes damn sure could!”
“Ow, ow, ow! I’m sorry!” I wail, squirming against his hardness.
Arousal trickles down my thigh as the spanking continues. Why is my body betraying me like this? This spanking fucking hurts. I’m not enjoying it. Am I?
“I have to do more than show you around Las Vegas and tell you stories. I have to keep you safe, and I do my job well,” Boydlectures while he peppers my ass with hard smacks that echo as loud as my cries. “I have to make sure you don’t say something on your fucking podcast that gets both of us in trouble!”
“I understand!” I cry, blinking away the tears and choking on my next breath. “I understand, Boyd! Please stop!”
But even as I plead for mercy that doesn’t come, another drop of traitorous arousal runs down my inner thigh. It trickles until it soaks into his pants where I’m frantically squirming against his hard cock.
My cries turn into sobs. Boyd’s heavy hand continues to punish me while regret streams down my hot cheeks. It feels like my ass is on fire. Just when it feels like I might combust from the heat, his hand slows, delivers a few stinging slaps to my thighs, two more on my ass, and finally comes to a rest.
“Ow, ow, it hurts,” I sob, gasping for air now that I can finally breathe.
“I know,” he says, helping me up from his lap and holding onto me until I’m steady on my feet. “Go clean yourself up and then we’ll work on your notes.”
And just like that, it’s over. Back to business. I swallow a couple of sobs and look down at his pants. I can see the wetness. I’m not sure if he notices or not. I certainly won’t be the one to point it out.
Once my legs stop wobbling enough for me to walk, I hurry to the bathroom and close the door. I rest my palms against the sink and have a good old-fashioned crying fit. Just like I used to do when I really was a little girl.
It takes me a while to get myself together. I reach for my panties and whimper as I pull them over my well-spanked bottom. My shorts are too tight. I kick them off, look through the clothes in the bathroom, and grab my baggiest pair of jeans.
After I’m dressed, I wash my face, clean up, and put more makeup on. My eyes are red-rimmed now, which hides some of the puffiness underneath them. I look like I’ve spent more time crying than worrying about a good night’s sleep.
I take a deep breath, then step out of the bathroom. Boyd is still sitting on the other bed and my notebook is on his lap. It’s covering the spot where my arousal seeped into his pants. I can’t tell if he’s still hard, but it doesn’t matter.
It was punishment, not foreplay.
CHAPTER 8
