Page 156 of High Roller

It’s not clear what he’s aiming for with this conversation, so I’m honest. “I’m not sure, Sir. I suppose I broke your rule about leaving the house and I put myself in danger.”

He nods. “You did.”

“Do you want to punish me?”

He wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. “I want to know that you understand why it’s so important for you to listen right now.”

The worry in his voice rips at my heart, and tears land on his shirt. “I understand, Sir.”

“We can go have dinner with Lili, or you can choose an implement, and I can give you a well-deserved spanking.”

“What are my implement choices?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You want a spanking?”

I chew my lip. “I want… something normal. Does that make sense?”

He gives me a lopsided smile and twists one of my curls around his finger. “It does, Mariposa. I can give you that. You can choose the belt, paddle, or tawse.”

“Belt, please, Sir.”

“I want your dress up around your waist and then you’ll straddle the arm of the couch with your bottom all the way out.”

Something about this still doesn’t feel right. This isn’t Victor.

“You’re not being you. You’re being… nice,” I say as I raise my dress and move to the couch.

“It seems like self-sabotage to complain about my kindness when you’re about to get the belt, butterfly.”

“I know. That’s not what I mean to do. I guess I’m just trying to make sure that you’re OK, too.”

He stops me before I can climb on the arm of the couch and pulls me into his arms for a harsh kiss. When he releases me, he pulls my dress completely off. I have no bra or panties on, so now I’m naked.

He pinches both my nipples until I squeal.

“I’m getting there, butterfly,” he says, pointing to the couch. “In position.”

I climb on the couch and shift myself toward the edge until he tells me I’m in the right spot.

“We’re going to find our normal together, Mariposa. Remember your safewords, I intend to welt your ass from top to bottom so you might need them tonight.”

“Yes, Master,” I say, my body already betraying me as moisture pools between my thighs.

The rattle of his belt buckle as he pulls the thick leather free of his slacks makes me shudder, and he drags the end of the belt down my back.

“How many do you think you can handle before you say red?” he asks.

“Let’s find out,” I say, trying to bring an air of playfulness to the room.

He chuckles. “That’s my girl. But I don’t want you taking more than you can handle just because you’re trying to impress me.”

“Yes, Sir,” I murmur.

Victor steps back and folds the belt in half before he brings it down against my skin for the first time.

The searing pain grounds me, and I grip the back of the couch.

“Count, Grace.”

---