Page 119 of Westin

Humiliated, I shake my head. Something trickles down my inner thigh.

“You will not lie to me, especially where your safety and consent are concerned. Understood?”

I nod. My heart pounds.

I can’t tell if I want to cry or come or both.

He waits for several humiliating minutes. My jaw aches, but I keep perfectly still. Finally, he leans in and takes the soap from my mouth and sets it aside. My mouth tastes sharp. I don’t want to swallow. A tear slips out and etches to my jaw.

“Spit into my hand,” he says.

He cups it under my chin. I’m already embarrassed, so I lean in and spit into his hand until the taste subsides. He wipes his fingers on his handkerchief and lays it over his thigh.

“Do you need to rinse now, or can you continue your punishment?”

His tone is even, like he’s not angry, just disappointed. It’s so stern, it makes my toes curl. Deep inside, I ache. All I want is for him to pick me up and slide me down over his cock.

“I can continue, sir,” I whisper.

He strokes my cheek with his thumb. “That’s my girl.”

I open my mouth to speak again, but the faint taste of soap gags me. His brows crease, and he leans back.

“Run to the bathroom and rinse,” he orders.

My legs are weak as I stand. I’m dizzy and flushed in the bathroom mirror as I rinse my mouth until the taste is gone. Then, I do as he says and return to where he sits, waiting in the armchair.

“Do you want me to kneel, sir?” My whisper cracks.

He shakes his head once. “No, lay yourself across my right knee.”

My pussy has a heartbeat like a drum. He could get me off with a single touch. His thigh looks thick and hard, like it would be paradise to ride myself against it.

“Focus, darling,” he says.

I shake my head once. “How…do I do this, sir?”

He takes my hand, guiding me between his thighs. His other hand rests on my lower back as he drapes me over his arm and lowers me over his knee. My cheek lays on the armrest, and my toes dig into the floor.

“You’re not ready for the crop or the belt, not for punishment,” he says. “I prefer to use my hand anyway.”

I shiver—maybe not yet, but I think I might like to try them soon. He lifts the short hem of my slip, and warmth from the fire washes over my pussy. I’m so wet, it’s sticky on my inner thighs. His fingertips trail over my ass and dip down, sliding to my clit.

“Oh God,” I burst out.

He hasn’t let me come since the night he ate me out on my period. I’m not brave enough to touch myself without his permission. My hips wriggle, desperate for friction.

“No. You made your bed, darling. You lay in it,” he says.

He’s so cruel, but he’s so kind about it. I go still, tilting my head to lay my cheek on the chair. One of his big, rough hands goes to theback of my neck, and the other starts rubbing slow circles over my ass.

Then, he spanks me, hard enough that I yelp.

“Do not struggle,” he says. “Hold still and be a good girl for me. You may cry if you need to.”

I’m slipping down through sweet, warm darkness, into a gentle space where there’s nothing but the sensations moving through my body. I have no memories of the last few years. All I know is he’s holding me. He’s in control, and I’m safe in his arms.

It’s euphoric.

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