Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“…quite the little vixen,” Devin was saying. “Dylan certainly seemed to enjoy himself last night.”
My ears perked up at the mention of Dylan’s name. I moved closer to the door, straining to hear more.
“Lucky bastard,” Travis chuckled. “So what’s the plan for tonight?”
“Well,” Devin replied, a note of anticipation in his voice, “our Andrea needs to be taught a lesson about self-control. I’ve asked Dylan to do the honors with the strap.”
CHAPTER 21
Andrea
My stomach dropped, like an anchor into deep, dark water, at Devin’s words. My mind reeled off kilter. Dylan was going to whip me? The thought sent so many conflicting thoughts, emotions, and sensations thrilling through my mind and my body that for a moment I literally thought I would pass out.
My knees went weak as my brain tried again and again to process Devin’s words. Dylan was going to whip me. The man who had given me such exquisite pleasure last night would now be the one to punish me. A deep shudder ran through my body.
I leaned against the doorframe, my heart pounding in my chest. Part of me wanted to cry out in protest, to beg for mercy. But that other part, the place in my mind, or my body, or some strange mixture of the two I still felt too ashamed to really acknowledge, felt a terrible thrill of excitement at the thought of Dylan wielding the strap.
“Seems like the right thing to do,” Devin continued, his voice carrying clearly to where I stood. “I think all that pleasure Dylan gave her last night is what caused her lewd conduct in bed this morning. I mean, Lila screams pretty loud with Bill, but you should have heard Andrea.”
I bit my lip hard, stifling the whimper that threatened to escape. Heat bloomed across my cheeks as I remembered the sounds I’d made, how I’d cried out as waves of ecstasy crashed over me. I hadn’t really thought about how loud I’d been, how the whole household must have heard my shameful cries of pleasure.
“Dylan certainly knows how to handle a girl,” Travis chuckled. “I bet she was dripping wet for him.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Devin replied. “Greta told me that when she checked the sheets this morning, there was quite the wet spot.”
My face flamed even hotter at their crude discussion of my arousal, but at the same time, completely without conscious thought, my hand drifted between my thighs. I gasped softly as my fingers encountered the slick heat there. To my mortification, I realized I was still soaking wet. The combination of my nudity, the memory of Dylan’s touch, and the knowledge that he would soon be punishing me had my body humming with unwelcome need.
I jerked my hand away, appalled at my body’s betrayal. How could I be aroused at a time like this? I was going to be whipped tonight, for God’s sake. And yet… the thought of Dylan’s strong hands gripping the strap, the anticipation of its sting across my bare bottom, sent another surge of heat straight to my core.
“I can’t deny I’m looking forward to seeing how she reacts to the strap,” Travis was saying. “Do you think she’ll cry?”
“Oh, I’m sure of it,” Devin replied. “Dylan won’t go easy on her just because he filled her belly with his seed last night. If anything, I think he’ll be even harder on her. He knows she needs to learn her lesson.”
I shuddered at his words, imagining Dylan’s face set in stern lines as he brought the strap down on my upturned bottom. Would he caress me afterward, soothing the burning skin with his gentle touch? Or would he leave me aching and needy as a reminder of my punishment?
The hours crept by. Greta sent me to my room to “think about what is going to happen to that naughty backside of yours after dinner.”
Trying to show a bit of meaningless defiance, I turned on Singin’ in the Rain on my Selecta-provided tablet. At first it seemed utterly pointless; even the amazing first scenes of the film couldn’t take my mind off my nudity and what it meant. But knowing Dylan loved the movie as much as I did seemed to calm me enough to follow along, and then, to my surprise, an hour had gone by.
“Andrea, honey,” Greta called from the bottom of the stairs, the strictness of her tone making a lie of the honey, “get your butt down here. You’re serving dinner by yourself tonight.”
I descended the stairs with trembling legs to find Greta waiting for me, a stern expression in her eyes. She thrust into my hands a piece of blue cloth that turned out to be a tiny apron.
“Put it on, girl,” Greta ordered, “and get the food to the table.”
The flimsy garment barely covered my breasts and my pussy. It left my bottom completely naked. The contrast between the protected parts of my body and the still naked ones made the air on my uncovered skin feel like a reminder of my naughtiness with every step.