Page 27 of Wicked Games

“Please don’t…”

“Say it.”

Swallowing, I then took in a shaking breath. “I was… was… naughty…”

“And?”

“And… I need… need you to punish me.” The rest came out in a pathetic rush of humiliation.

“And what should punishments do?” he asked as he kicked my legs open wider.

Oh, God.

“Answer me, Elizabeth.”

“Hurt,” I whimpered.

The fabric of his trousers felt like sandpaper when they brushed against my now sensitive, bruised skin. I could feel the caress of his hand as he stepped even closer while he worked the fastening. Then the press of his cock.

He pushed the bulbous head into the crack of my ass.

“No! I’ve never. Please!” I begged.

The backs of his knuckles slid along the seam as he guided his cock lower, till I felt him press against the entrance to my cunt. I knew deep inside that one day he would ruthlessly take my virgin ass but right now I felt dizzy with relief that it wasn’t going to be today.

Already embarrassingly wet, my body gave him little resistance as he slowly slid inside. His body folded over mine, pressing me flat onto the table. His lips gently pressed against the shell of my ear as he wrapped one hand around my throat, lifting me till my back arched. Then he whispered huskily, “You belong to me now.”

His hips pulled back and he thrust in… deep.

His fingers squeezed my throat, cutting off my cry of pain as he violently pistoned into my helpless body.

The edge of the table cut into my stomach as I was rocked with each powerful thrust. Pinned to the table, there was no escape. I felt his breath against my cheek. His hand around my throat. His chest pressing down on my back. His hips grinding against my ass.

And his cock pounding into me. Forcing my body to open. My inner muscles contracted painfully as he pressed deeper and deeper still. Each time he bottomed out I couldn’t hold back a guttural whimper.

I felt dominated and used, which made my arousal that much more humiliating.

Why?

Why was this man having this effect on me?

Why did I almost crave the pain he promised?

Shifting his hand to my hair, he pulled on it roughly. “Are you my little harlot?” he snarled.

There was no denying it. “Yes! Yes!” I screamed.

I wanted more. More pounding thrusts. Harder and harder. I wanted it to hurt. Needed it to hurt.

I almost wept with relief when his free hand reached down to squeeze the flesh of my spanked ass, sending fresh waves of stinging heat curling between my legs.

“Harder! Make it hurt!” I shamelessly begged. Not caring that he was fucking me on the dining room table with numerous servants probably listening on the other side of the door.

Grunting, his thrusts slowed but became more powerful. Each one meant to punish and subjugate. I held my breath as pressure built deep within my body. I could feel my own release clawing its way to the surface. Just as I was cresting, he slapped my ass again. Opening my mouth wide, I silently screamed as I came in wave after heated wave.

Collapsing forward onto the now sweaty surface of the table, I was only slightly aware of his rough growl as he pushed into me one last time. His hot come stung as it poured into my sore and torn pussy.

I laid there motionless as he pulled free. Come dribbled down my inner thigh. It itched as it cooled. I listened without turning as he fastened his trousers and shrugged back into his jacket.

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