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)
The sound of leather meeting flesh echoed through the room. Andrea let out a strangled cry, her body jerking against the restraints.
“One,” I said firmly, watching as a bright pink stripe bloomed across her pale skin.
I paused for a moment, letting the sting sink in. Andrea’s breath came in short, sharp gasps. I could see the muscles in her thighs and buttocks tensing as she braced herself for the next blow. I raised my arm and brought the strap down again, the lash ringing out like a gunshot as it made contact with her sweet globes.
“Two,” I counted, as another stripe appeared just below the first.
Andrea whimpered, her fingers clenching and unclenching where they were bound at the sides of the ottoman. I hardened myself against the urge to comfort her. This was a necessary lesson, one she needed to learn thoroughly.
I delivered three more blows, grimly counting each one. Andrea cried out louder at each lash. Her bottom began to take on a uniform rosy glow.
“It hurts, sir!” Andrea sobbed. “Please… I’m so sorry! Dylan… sir, please…”
“I know you’re sorry, sweetheart,” I said, making my voice gentle but firm. “But we’re only just beginning. You have a long way to go before you’ve learned your lesson.”
I raised the strap again, bringing it down with precision across the fullest part of her bottom.
“Six,” I counted.
Andrea’s cries grew louder and louder. By the tenth lash, she was openly weeping, her body shuddering with each impact. Her bottom had turned a deep, angry red.
The eleventh stroke of the strap made her frantic, in a way that confirmed for me just how badly she had needed this stern punishment. I had forgiven her for the scene in the Trattoria the previous night, of course; the public spanking in my truck had taken care of it in my mind. But when I had heard of her touching her sweet virgin pussy in bed this morning, I had suspected exactly what her sudden writhing against the restraints and her near-hysterical sobbing told me now.
Andrea Jacobsen needed firm boundaries. She surely wasn’t aware of it, but masturbating in bed, when she knew how likely Greta was to walk in and discover her, represented a request to learn much more about her submissive needs. A plea, from my perspective, for me to take her in hand the way Devin—very wisely, I thought—had decided I should.
As I delivered and counted out two more lashes with grim determination, Andrea shrieked and sobbed and tried to twist out of the restraints that held her in place on the ottoman.
“Settle down,” I instructed sternly. “We’re more than halfway done, but I’m not going to continue until you show me you can take your whipping like a good girl.”
Andrea
It took long seconds before I understood what Dylan was asking of me. I seemed to feel his words in my body as much as I had heard them in my ears and grasped them in my mind. The wildness that had taken hold of me, the sudden snap of my will, when I had understood that I couldn’t get out of this whipping, that I would receive all twenty-four lashes no matter how I screamed or struggled… it faded gradually, and then much more quickly, until I had come to my senses and I could perceive the quiet that had taken hold of the living room.
I heard wet sounds behind me, and though it seemed absurd, I felt my cheeks grow warm on behalf of Lila and Lydia, because I knew their suitors must be using their mouths to enjoy the sight of my punishment. I pictured it despite myself: the two big men on the couch, the two girls on the floor, their heads held still for their suitors’ thrusting cocks or perhaps allowed enough freedom to show their reverence for the jutting shafts with lips and tongue.
A wave of agony from my bottom made me buck my hips and clench my backside in a vain search for some relief. I let out a sob, much softer than the screaming ones to which I had given voice as Dylan had delivered the twelfth and thirteenth lashes. The pain in my rear end, together with the sounds from behind me, brought a new, mortifying but irresistible longing to my mind and my body.
I wanted desperately to have Dylan’s rigid penis inside me. I remembered the stern but caring way he liked to use my mouth. I wondered how he would fuck me, because just as I knew I would have to accept my whipping, I knew I would have to accept my defloration.
And… and…
I whimpered into the leather of the ottoman.
And I want it. All of it.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Dylan asked, from behind me and above me. “Can you take your whipping obediently?”