Page 78 of Sweet Little Spies

Aidan’s right hand swirled over her butt cheeks in a loopingfigure eight pattern.

She knew what was coming, knew what it meant when his handlifted away from her skin. Yet the first spank took her by surprise.

Pain. Hard and real and hitting her like a shock to hersystem.

Carys gasped in both shock as a bright spot blossomed on herleft ass cheek. The surface sting was there and gone, but a faint heatremained.

Tristan’s fingers stroked gently, a stunning contrast to thepain. “Don’t forget your count, love.”

“One, Sir.”

The second blow was just as hard, but on the other cheek.

This wasn’t a slap and tickle. Wasn’t the lacklusterspankings vanilla people liked to play around with. This was pain anddomination. This was being helpless and yet so safe.

By the fifteenth spank her entire ass felt warm, from thetop of her cheeks all the way to her thighs. Most of the blows had gone to thesensitive spot where ass met thigh, and she was already feeling tender.

“Spread your legs,” Aidan commanded.

Carys obeyed.

Slap. The top of her left cheek.

“Sixteen, Master.”

Another smack.

“Seventeen, Master.”

“Louder.” Aidan punctuated the command with a blow thatspanned both thighs, sending Tristan’s fingers even deeper into her.

Carys let out a loud, long moan of pain and pleasure.

Aidan didn’t stop.

Her skin felt hot and tender, almost like it was sunburned.Now the surface sting, which had faded quickly at the start of the spanking,lingered. It was a sharper sensation than the deep heat slowly building.

By thirty she was twitching, jerking with each blow. ButTristan’s hand cupped and controlled her pussy, keeping her right where hewanted her.

At forty, she started to cry. Not tears of pain.

Tears of release.

She was in a place she’d never been before, all herboundaries blown away in the face of the way these men worshipped her. She’dnever felt as connected to them as she did tonight, and she believed them. Theyhadn’t meant to marginalize her. She hadn’t communicated. She’d let her fearand insecurity rule her.

Carys dropped her head, watching teardrops hit the matteblack stage under her feet. Every single one felt like an offering, a way tohonor the last years but to also let them go.

“You good, love?” Tristan asked softly.

She was beyond good. She was lighter than she’d been before,and yet more herself than she’d been in years. “Yes, Sir.”

He curled his fingers inside her, and pleasure threadedthrough the pain. “You’re done counting. All you need to do is submit to yourpunishment.”

“Yes, Sir.”

She’d thought maybe he’d make the final twenty-five eitherfast, light, or both.

Instead, the next spank was the hardest one so far. Carysscreamed, pushing up onto her toes.

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