Page 74 of For Her Own Good

The low simmer of embarrassment when I prostrate myself over Jade’s lap is usually part of the fun. It’s not an absence of mortification but a tiny, manageable dose of it that somehow sends blood pulsing toward the apex of my thighs, making me swollen and sensitive. This, though, with Lowry here, is different. The humiliation cuts deeper. Which is the point, right? It cuts, doesn’t scrape along the surface. It’s that tip of the razor blade that digs into my skin where it’s painful instead of being a shiver-inducing drag of excitement.

“Go on. Head in his lap, kitten.” When I still don’t move, her eyebrow kicks up in a dangerous curve. “I wasn’t going to punish you, but I can.”

Oh, definitely not. That is pushing this way too far. For the moment. I can imagine a day where Lowry might punish me himself—god, I want that—but that day is not today. For today I kneel on the chaise and close my eyes tight as I walk my hands over Jade’s lap and then lower myself until my butt is in prime position for Jade and her hairbrush to have their way with it, my torso rests on the chaise between Jade and Lowry’s thighs, and I…

I rest my head in Lowry’s lap, my head turned toward his knees, and my hands resting on his thigh. Barely breathing, I want to squirm so badly. But I also want to be good. For them. So I try to locate my peace. I find it, yes, but it’s more like I’m in the neighborhood than actually able to occupy it. Why did I think this was a good idea, again?

Oh, right. I wanted Lowry to get a better, more complete idea of what I like, to see if he likes it too, and thought it would be easier to have Jade here while he did. In the event that Lowry was not a fan, her presence would cushion the blow. And in the event he was, she’d be able to show him the ropes. And the paddles. And other things that might come in handy.

A touch on my thigh reminds me I haven’t successfully paused time to dive into this morass of introspection. No, Lowry and Jade are both getting an eyeful of my dorsal side while my head spins. Overthinking and perseverating are specialties of mine and I’m making good use of them now.

Jade turns up my skirt, exposing my backside, and I suck in a breath, squeeze my eyes shut, my fingers tightening. This is for real, it’s really happening. There’s a sharp inhale above me a split second after my own, and I don’t know if Lowry’s gasping because the sight of my ass tipped into the air has taken his breath away or because I’m digging my fingers into his thigh. Could be either.

And then Jade is stroking my bottom. She makes a pleased low noise in her throat while tracing the embroidered straps that make up most of this underwear. It’s definitely more pretty than functional, but her approval makes me glow.

“Very pretty panties, kitten. I like these very much. They’ll let me see that nice shade of red your bottom turns even before I peel them over your hips so I can see all of your cheeks.”

My level of embarrassment has officially reached DEFCON two. I might die before this is over.

“Thank you,” I mumble, wondering if Lowry can feel the heat of my breath through his wool pants. Always the professorial wool, it kills me.

“You can touch her if you like,” Jade offers and then there’s another touch in addition to the increasingly rough handling of my butt cheeks. Lowry’s gently rubbing my shoulders with one hand while Jade has started kneading at the flesh of my buttocks. So many hands, and the contrasting touches are killing me. As Jade gets rougher, Lowry’s hand moves to my neck and he rests it so that his thumb can stroke behind my ear, which makes me want to sigh and purr except that Jade’s started pinching, grabbing, and…jiggling. That’s the worst. So mortifying. But she likes it, and I don’t dislike it enough to tell her to stop, to make it one of my limits that she’s not permitted to cross. It’s that goddamn embarrassment fetish of mine.

It’s longer than it usually takes her to start laying into me when Jade says, “Look at him, kitten. Turn your head. I want him to see your pretty face while I spank your bottom.”

Yes, I think Jade is quite enjoying this opportunity for additional embarrassment. I, on the other hand, am not. Am I not? Or am I? Perhaps it’s the not being able to tell that has me buzzing like some heat-maddened fly. Regardless, I have to steel myself before I lift my head to turn my face.

Something I’ve always liked about being over Jade’s knee is being taken from me—even as she’s flipped up skirts or pulled down pants and underwear, spanked me, pushed her fingers inside me and brought me to orgasm, I’ve always had a measure of privacy in being able to hide my face from her. Now, though, I’m not afforded the luxury, and am instead being exposed, my innermost feelings flayed open for Lowry to feast on. And my god, would Freud have a field day with this scenario.

I force myself to open my eyes, to see the expression on Lowry’s face, and when I do, what I see there stuns me. There’s a mix of arousal and tenderness that goes straight to my heart, and zings quickly to between my legs. Yes, this is what I want. What I’ve always wanted from him. Benevolence and nurturing but also wanting to fuck me into next week. My lips part to say I don’t know what, but as I hold his intense gaze, Jade’s hand lands on my butt.

Open hand on the fleshiest part of my bottom, it’s a stinging slap designed to get attention. Yes, we’re getting started now.

Chapter 24

Lowry

I had knownthere was something missing. Knew it in a restless, poked-at way. As though there were a mosquito buzzing about and I couldn’t see it, only hear it, and couldn’t slap the damn thing to kill it. The sound of Jade’s hand hitting Starla’s bottom and the way my Star’s mouth forms a perfect O in surprise when it does… What I wouldn’t give to have that be my hand.

Caressing Starla’s shoulders and neck, cupping her cheek and toying with her pigtail are delightful, wonderful, don’t get me wrong. I would take her head in my lap any day of the week over just about any other activity I can think of. But my God…I would like to make those expressions flit over her face, feel my hand bounce off the flesh of her bottom, force those noises from her throat. It’s a symphony of gasps, grunts, squeaks, squeals, cries, and giggles as Jade lays into her. The way Starla squirms and writhes while trying to keep her movements in check is delightful. As is the press of her breasts against my thigh and the way she buries her face in my legs before Jade scolds her and forces her to turn her head toward me again so I can see her. Yes, I want to see her.

My beautiful girl.

And yes, I know very well she’s a grown woman. An intelligent, industrious, indomitable woman. But in this moment, she’s also a girl who’s turned over Jade’s knee and receiving a spanking for no discernible reason other than they both like it.

I had wondered if this was going to be a role-playing thing, but it’s not really. It’s a different side of Starla than I’m used to seeing, but it’s still very much her. The her I’ve caught glimpses of. The one who desperately wants to be small and guided and taken care of. Not that a person needs a reason to want those things, but I can imagine why this would feel good to her. Being told for so long that there was a limit to the love she was allowed. That she could only take up so much of someone’s time and energy. I get it, sort of. People are not bottomless wells of compassion and sympathy and nurturing. We all get tired at some point. Overwhelmed, overtaxed. But we all have different tolerances for being needed as well, and I suspect her father’s was rather low. No shame in that, and I know he did his best by her, but…she needed more than that and I wasn’t able to give it to her then. I can now.

Jade is striking her rather hard now, and Starla’s arse has gone from a pale cream to a nicely warmed allover pink and is starting to turn red in places. The giggles have disappeared, and the noises now consist of mewls, whimpers, cries, and yelps.

Here’s yet another surprise: I’ve always fancied myself a gentle man, but those sounds have my dick straining at the front of my pants and it doesn’t help that Starla’s pain-twisted face is within licking distance of my cock. Christ.

The thing is, I’ve seen her in true pain before, anguish. Not that this isn’t hurting her, because I think it really fucking is and I can understand why—she’s being hit awfully hard. But it’s bychoice. She could make this stop at any moment, and she’s choosing not to. I’m not entirely sure why and maybe she doesn’t know herself, although I’ll ask her about it later because I’m curious, but she’s getting something out of this.

“Hold her wrists, would you? It’s time for the hairbrush and it’s not meant for rapping knuckles. She’s gotten a bit out of control as you can tell.”

Tell? She looks incredibly composed while she’s catching her breath. Yes, she’d been moving a lot, but who can blame her? I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to lay there, draped over anyone’s lap, beinghit. Yes, I understand it’s fundamentally different for her than it would be for me, and yet, it hurts, and she’s allowing it. And she’s going to tolerate a hairbrush? For fuck’s sake.

Jade is eyeing me, likely speculating on whether I have the stomach for this. To hold Starla down while Jade beats her arse with a hairbrush. I absolutely do, because my cock is pulsing with want and arousal thinking about my hands circling Starla’s slim wrists and holding her fast, and the idea of paddling her bottom isn’t unappealing—at all—I just…need a minute. There’s a difference between feeling that an act is fundamentally okay in a global way and actually performing it oneself.

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