Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79244 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“And… if I accept the punishment, we’ll be good again?” I’m annoyed by how nervous I sound, but I like the idea of leaving this place with a clean slate.
“Then we will be good,” he promises, rubbing my ass in a circular motion that immediately makes my dick interested.
Oh no. My body is already betraying me again!
“Be a good boy, and I will make sure you’re happy,” Damen says and smiles when I stay put, bent over.
The promise alone makes me melt into a dreamland where my kindness and devotion are appreciated. Where I'm taken care of and not thrown away after making one mistake.
There’s a tremble to his breath now, and I close my eyes, inhaling at the same moment he does. The next slap comes when we both exhale, and the burn it leaves has me rocking back and forth. Damen isn’t playing around. He wants me to remember this for a long time.
For the next slap I bite down on my hand, because fuck! And yet here I am, not fighting him, not giving him attitude, or even asking how many are left. I let him do what he needs to, ready to take it despite the pain.
And then there’s the confusing excitement every time I glance in the mirror and see myself with pants pooled at my knees, reddening ass up and so available he could shove himself in at any moment. This beautiful beast of a man stands right behind me, so close, so focused on my body.
As soon as I sense pre-cum dampening the front of my jockstrap, the next slap makes me whimper. I clench my thighs, curl my fists. It hurts. Undeniably. He’s not going easy on me. And yet there’s a flood of relief after every hit, because yes, I do feel like a good boy. Like I’m taking my punishment, showing him I understand I did something wrong, not just enduring a painful experience. He is trying to teach me a lesson, but not with hurt or humiliation.
He’s doing this because he likes me. Wants to keep me.
“I am sorry,” I choke out, hardly recognizing my voice through the rasp. I’m so desperate for him to understand that.
“I know, baby. Deep down, you want to be good. I can see that,” he promises, delivering another stroke that numbs my skin despite simultaneously burning like hellfire. I arch my back, trying to escape the next hit, but he keeps me in place with his free hand, delivering blow after blow, until I’m squirming like a cat in heat, my cock so hard it’s almost poking out from my underwear.
I don’t know how I can be both in pain and horny, but here I am.
I’m on fire. And while I know there’s only one way to extinguish the flames, I don’t dare voice my plea when Damen hisses and shakes his hand, as if the spanking has hurt him as much as it has me. I don’t question him when he reaches forward and offers his palm to me. I nuzzle it before rolling my tongue across it. I’m an animal acting on base instincts.
“That’s it. You’re forgiven,” Damen tells me in a voice so sweet tears gather under my eyelids.
My ass is so tender and aching, my thighs still tremble and I can’t catch my breath, but his words soothe all the pain. I’m forgiven. It’s done. We can forget I did the shitty thing I did. We can kiss, and hold hands, and say all those nice words.
I stifle a sob against his hand, unable to comprehend what’s going on with me. I want a hug from the man who’s just turned my ass raw.
“Th-thank you,” I choke out.
He exhales, then places his hand on my stomach before trailing it lower, toward my aching cock. “Just to be clear though, I don’t want an unwilling partner, so if you’d rather sleep on the sofa throughout the holida—”
“No!” I beg and look up at him in the mirror. I do register that he’s giving me a way out. Signalling he won’t force me into sex. But when I see he’s also a little flushed, that he looks like the devil’s more handsome brother, all I want is to climb his dick. My hole throbs when I think about two weeks with no access to more than a gentle kiss in public. “I want… I want…” I’m too out of it to communicate my thoughts clearly.
“You want what?” he asks, deceptively calm despite the flush on his cheeks. Oh, I love how in control he is. It’s so damn hot!
I take a deep breath. “I want… you. I want to fuck through the holidays.” I hope that’s not too crude for him, but I don’t have the brain capacity to express that I want to cuddle up to him at night, take showers with him, and kiss his beautiful hands, and lick his neck, and leave hickeys that will make his mother angry, and swallow his cum, and smell his hair…