He chuckled and brought his hand down on her hip, being certain to wrap around and assail the hot, red, tender flesh of her bottom. "Fifteen more for that cheeky mouth. Don't top from the bottom, Claire. It is so beneath you."
She smiled up at him and he swore that he would give it his best shot. No matter what the future held, he would not be just another one of her assholes. He would not use her. He would give back. As much as he could. For as long as they had. He would be different. Beginning with the simple stuff.
He smiled down at her and she tried to turn over on his lap. But his hand stilled her. "Who said anything about your bum, sweetheart?"
The way her brow arched at his words was priceless. He fought to keep from breaking out in laughter. Instead he held a stony stare for a long moment as he watched her brilliant mind play over possibilities. "Open your legs, Claire."
Those expressive green eyes widened in shock. She shook her head from side to side. But her legs fell open automatically. He cupped his hand and brought it down hard over the tender flesh of her Mons Venus. She jumped, moaned and wiggled a bit as the bare flesh took on a pink glow. But she did not close her legs as his hand remained motionless, cupping her most sensitive parts.
"That does not count because it was not the belt." His finger caressed lower, slipped just inside the folds to find a fountain that wept and flowed. It was he that fought distraction this time. He could so easily slip his fingers deep inside of her. Give her the release that she had been denying herself for so long. He could force her body to surrender what it had fought for so long.
But she needed more from him than just sex. Than being used again. She needed boundaries. She needed to know that when he said something he meant it. She needed punishment, because as she had said...punishment meant he accepted the responsibilities of being her Dom. As well as the privileges. He picked up the belt with one hand as the other held her down.
"Twenty-five with the belt, Claire. Twenty-five more. On your bare, wet pussy. Do you understand me?"
She shook her head, "Please, James, I can't. I haven't...not in over five years. I won't be able to take it," she pleaded.
"You have always been stronger than you knew, sweetheart. And I will decide what you can and can't take. You don't have a safe word and I am not giving you one. But you have my word, if I feel it is too much then the punishment stops." He met her gaze full on, "I won't ever hurt what is mine. Not ever, Claire," he made the sacred promise that he had every intention of keeping. Not just physically either.
Then he brought the belt down between her open legs. She jumped when the leather made contact with the moist flesh. She moaned but James could not tell if it was pain or pleasure as the smell of her need assailed his senses once more. "One, Claire. Count for me."
She whimpered and those green pools looked up into his face. Her mouth hung open just a bit. He was tempted to taste her sweet kisses once more, but there would be plenty of time for that later. He would drown in her kisses if he could. But punishments came first. Responsibilities before privileges. Just as it should be.
He watched her face as he brought the leather down four more times in quick succession. "Two. Three. Four. Five," her voice trembled and her body shook, arching upwards to meet each stroke.
Now that he had begun the task, he would not delay. Five more this time. Her eyes closed and she moaned low as her flesh went from pink to red. But still she counted. "Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten." He knew that she was with him.
"Good girl," he praised with genuine awe for her strength. She faced her punishment with the same quiet strength that she faced life. It humbled him. It was the same strength that she shared with him. The same that she gave so freely to those others. The thought angered him. Why? How could she let them take so much? He steadied his nerve. Anger had no place now. Punishments should never be in anger.
Ten this time. He would not prolong it needlessly. She stumbled a bit on the words, "Eleven, twelve, thirteen." A tiny sob escaped her throat as the belt connected with her sensitive flesh, she moaned but continued on, "Thirteen."
He lightened the blows just a bit. But he was sure that as raw as her flesh was she would still feel them just as much. "Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen," she was breathless and her whole body trembled as she thrashed side to side over his knee. "Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen," she cried out, arching higher with each blow. "Twenty," she screamed out.
He lowered the belt to his side. He stroked her hair back from her face. "Open your eyes, baby girl," he demanded. Even through the foggy haze of pain she obeyed. Especially through the pain, when everything is clearest, she obeyed him instantly.
He looked into her eyes. They were hazy. A bit glazed over. He knew, just knew in his gut what that meant. "Fuck," he spat. She was in subspace. She should not be. Not this soon. Not this easily. But he knew that her body had always been responsive in more ways than one. What's more she had not played, really played in so long that it was not accustomed to the drug that it needed the most. Like someone who had not had alcohol in a very long time, she was drunk on a single glass of wine.
He debated. She was deeper, way deeper, than he had meant to take her. He had only read about this level. He was not sure how to handle it, handle her. Not really. He was in way over his head. He chuckled at the irony. He had been in over his head since he rashly followed his heart and got in the car twenty-four hours ago. He had been in over his head since he sent that first email eight impossibly long years ago.
