Page 12 of Lost Petal

Chapter 6

J

She tries to evade my grip when I bow down to reach for her, catching her arm as she throws it up, trying to protect herself. She mewls beautifully when I pull her up on her feet, the white gown flying behind her like a cape when I drag her over to the leather bench. I move quickly to make sure she has no time to ponder, no time to even consider fighting back.

“On your knees!”

My command bursts through the room as I let go of her next to the bench, adding a violent thrust that sends her down to the floor. She barely manages to catch her fall by supporting herself on the button-tufted surface of the bench while a suppressed groan escapes her. Just a moment passes before she tries to scramble herself up, completely ignoring my demand.

“No!” I object, placing my hand on her shoulder to push her back down. She continues to struggle, unwilling to get into position.

So, I force her.

Her fight turns desperate, but not effective in the least, as I keep pushing, her arms giving in and her chest meeting the leather bench while her knees are forced on the concrete. Terror is painting a pretty picture on her blushed face when I use my other hand to lift the gown and expose her naked ass.

A frantic groan escapes her, and it is music to my ears. I can’t help but smile as I watch her struggling underneath my touch, wiggling her perfect body as she tries to get out, like a bug that’s slowly getting squeezed to death. She stretches her legs, trying to gain traction on the floor so she can lift herself despite my strength holding her down, but it’s to no avail.

“I warned you,” I hiss at her, relishing every single moment of her torment. “I told you to answer. Good girls do what they are told and they get treats. Bad girls, however...”

My hand lands on her perky ass for the very first time, and the sound she makes in response isn’t anything less than divine.

Fuck, I knew this would be good. But I didn’t expect her to kill me with this very first gasp.

My hand connects with the curves of her ass for a second time, and a third, a fourth. Slap after slap is raining down on her, and I’m not holding back. The more this hurts, the faster she’ll learn.

“Bad girls get punished!” I finish my sentence, adding another sequence of the hardest bare-hand spanking I’ve ever delivered. I’d be lying if I said they didn’t hurt my hand, but I don’t care. My pain doesn’t matter; hers does.

The porcelain skin on her ass cheeks changes with every strike, moving from white to blush pink to bright red as I put my little Petal in her place. She jerks with every hit, her mewls turning into cries that soon equal jarring shrieks.

I never expected her to be able to evoke such loud noises. She’s always been so calm, even just a few moments ago. She was so quiet, it almost worried me. So collected, so innocent and pure.

Beautiful.

But her beauty doesn’t suffer from her current outburst. Droplets of sweat are gathering at her temple as I continue my strikes against her bare ass. Each slap grows in intensity, and by now I’m not even sure whether I’m doing it to punish her or to treat myself. The view of her slender body curling beneath me as I handle her is almost too much to take. And it only gets amplified by her angelic song as she endures her torment with grace, a picture of complex agony adorning her pretty face.

She alternates between harrow cries and desperate mewls while the first set of tears runs down her cheeks. She’s breaking right before my eyes, already losing her stiff and stubborn attitude as her body turns mellow.

By the time I find it within myself to stop, I’m breathing as heavily as she is, and my face is wet from the exertion. That’s where the similarities end, and there’s one very particular physical response to what just transpired between us that I didn’t anticipate, not this early, not now.

I’m hard. Fucking rock-hard.

Vicious need stretches the fabric in my crotch with such unyielding demand that it’s almost painful.

Fuck.

I let go of her, and the moment I do, she starts wailing, rounding her back as her hands dig into the leather surface of the bench. Her entire body is trembling, still absorbing the pain from what I did to her. Her face is lowered and the long hair falling down on each side covers her from my view.

She jerks away from me when I go down on my knees next to her and gently move the heavy strands of hair aside to be able to see her face. Of course, she tries to evade my gaze, but I don’t let her.

“Look at me, Petal,” I whisper. “Look at me now, or I will use my belt on you. Trust me, that’s going to hurt a lot more.”

She gasps with fear, but takes another moment to gather the strength to do as she’s told. Her lips are pressed together when she turns to face me with narrowed eyes that still leak tears of pain.

There’s nothing but fear and pain in her gaze, drawing deep lines across her face without blemishing the beauty that’s unique to her. I have never seen this expression on her, not even close. Then again, there are lots of things I have never seen on her, never heard from her, never experienced with her.

There’s still so much to discover. The thought is thrilling.

Her watery eyes turn into narrow slits as she slowly regains her strength, and her pain turns into hate. This look isn’t new to me. I have seen it on her before, but it was never directed at me.

She has looked at others while this expression crossed her pretty face. Other men.

She remembers. She remembers hate. She remembers feeling helpless and angry. It’s just an emotion, detached from anything and anyone, but it’s the first piece to rebuild the puzzle that is her mind.

My Petal has a long journey ahead of her.

I can’t fucking wait to guide her through it.

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