Page 37 of The Southern Submission

“Take off my belt,” I command, bringing her hands to my hips so she can feel her way to the task I’ve given her.

Her hands glide along the leather, fingers trailing against my stomach, making my abs contract. Fuck, her touching me feels good, even like this. She finds the buckle and pulls, fumbling as I work to stay still. She frees the belt with some tugging and holds it out. I take it, cupping her face and running my thumb along her cheek just under the blindfold before I return to my task.

“Put your wrists out in front of you.”

She puts her arms out like she’s made for this.

I slide the end of the belt through the buckle to create a loop and slip it onto her wrist before creating a second loop for her other hand. I double the tail around and pull it through the buckle. Her wrists are bound but not in a way that will cut off circulation or keep her from moving, but the idea that she’s restrained is enough to have her chest rising and falling faster. It’s perfect for switching her brain off and letting me take over.

I take a step back and stare at her, looking like my fun-sized bondage dream. She’s blindfolded, my belt wrapped around her wrists, willingly waiting for me to touch her. I hold back the groan of pleasure working through me and return my attention to pleasing her.

The next time I drag the claws over her skin, it’s along her inner thigh. She jumps and lets out a breathy moan that surprises her. She’s shaking her head when I look up. I smile, not at all convinced she’s not enjoying the shit out of this, too.

“How’re you doing, Princess?” I need her answer when she’s in this heightened state of anticipation and arousal. If she’s uncomfortable, we’ll stop now. I continue running the claws along her legs while I wait for her response and she shivers.

“Very green,” she says quickly, her knees moving apart as she shifts her bare feet on the stool rungs.

Fuck. Yes.

“Does my cumslut like being blindfolded, tied up, and scratched all over her beautiful skin?” I ask in a teasing tone, taking stock of the thin red lines crossing her exposed skin. They’re superficial, only from pressure, but I love seeing her marked anyway. She looks like…mine. That’s a little more real than I expected to be thinking right now. I fucking like it.

“Something like that,” she says, her tone breathy but stillholding a note of sass that tells me she’s not sufficiently in line with me and still fighting to remain in control. I smile and want to kiss her smart mouth.

“There’s my little brat. Do I need to spank it out of you so you can enjoy the rest of this session?” I tease.

The visible shiver that runs through her is beautiful. Her chin lifts and she turns her face toward my voice. “Yes.”

I drop to my knees in front of her and rest my face on her thighs, my arms circling her hips and holding her to me as I shut my eyes in ecstasy at that one word spoken so confidently. Her bound wrists tentatively settle over my head, fingers threading into my hair and pulling gently. I groan into her legs at the contact, needing more. Needing everything she could possibly give me. Yet she’s already given me so much in this one session that I never expected from her.

Her trust is so fucking sexy. She barely has enough for me outside of this situation to have a normal conversation where she isn’t using her prickly words and put-downs to keep me away. Yet here she is, far more vulnerable, giving up control in a way that allows me to take care of her every need, whether or not she realizes it. My heart pounds as I drop kisses down to her knee reverently.

I rise to my feet, take her hands, and walk her to the bed. I sit on the edge and direct her over my lap, stretching out her bound wrists onto the mattress in front of her for balance. I rub my palm along her back and she arches into the touch, pressing her hips up as I get lower. She’s already primed for this. This is her first spanking. I want something with an intimate connection to monitor how she’s doing easily. I’ll feel everything she does with her body on mine like this.

“Is this okay?” I ask once she’s positioned, her ass temptingly in the air, waiting for what she asked for in such a cavaliermanner.

“Yes,” she says, wiggling her ass, teasing me with the way her hips move over my lap.

“You remember what to say if you want me to change what I’m doing or stop?”

“Of fucking course I do,” she says with more attitude, turning her face to rest on her arms.

I laugh, the sound dark and ready to tame the bratty attitude right out of her. “How long will it take to have you begging me to stop? Will you promise to be a good girl after one, or will you be stubborn and hold out through more?” I rest a hand in the middle of her back to keep her on my lap once we start.

She opens her mouth like she’s going to answer, but I bring my open palm down on her ass and she lets out a cry of surprise, jolting up onto her elbows, her whole body going rigid before she settles under the hand I have holding her in place.

“Fuck you, asshole,” she grits out between clenched teeth.

This earns her another slap on the opposite cheek, quickly followed by a third right in the middle. She squirms across my lap with each one.

“You’ll be nicer to me before this is finished, won’t you, Princess?”

“Not a chance, motherfucker.” She seethes, her face red from the exertion of holding herself together through the bursts of pain.

“Do you feel what your mean words do to me, Princess?” I growl as she writhes over my rock-hard cock. I’m loving every minute of this. So is she. My eyes are focused on the apex of her thighs. She’s soaking her pantiesandher tight pink shorts.

“You’re the fucking worst.”

I bring my hand down twice more, biting my lip as her wiggles turn into thrusts, seeking friction against me, her noisesof pain sounding more like pleasure. I’m pulling my strength, letting this be more of a lesson than a punishment, inflicting the least amount of pain I can while still letting her feel the sting of my palm as I continue to alternate sides.

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