Page 113 of The Twins
“What? No…I…”
He went into the living area. A regal fireplace dominated the room, and before it, two Chesterfield sofas faced each other. On the wall was an oil painting, a family portrait from happy times.
“This will do.” He glanced around and then tugged me to the sofa. He sat heavily and dragged me down with him.
But I didn’t end up seated, I was on his lap, and then suddenly over it; the world upside down and my hair trailing on the cashmere carpet.
“You deserve this punishment,” he said, hoisting my cotton dress up to the small of my back. “Every fucking second of it.”
I kicked up my heels, caught his hand, and tried to push away. But it was no good. He had me pinned in place.
My ass tingled as he yanked down my knickers, leaving them around my thighs. The air was cool against my hot flesh.
“You can’t do this.” I twisted to glare at him.
His jaw was tight, his eyes narrow, and the light caught the sparkle of his diamond earring. “I can do what the hell I want with you,” he said. “Get used to that. Get used to being mine, totally, all of you. I own you.”
He brought his hand down on my ass, hard.
I jerked and cried out; the smarting sting was instant and intense.
“Keep still.” He spanked me again, right over the first strike, and then again and again.
I twisted and bucked, made it hard for him to aim. But he was on a mission to punish me good and proper and was raining down hard spanks at the rate of two a second.
I yelled profanities. Tears streaked down my face. It was so maddening that he could do this. That he believed he had a right to.
Maybe he had?
Perhaps I had been bratty?
“Andrew,” I gasped. “Please…”
He paused and rubbed his wide palm over my ass cheeks. “You ready to say sorry?”
“No…I… Ouch!”
He’d picked up where he’d left off, striking my poor hot bottom over and over. It was the highest part of my body, and I had no escape. No choice but to take it. It was humiliating, and my body raged to be free.
“Keep fucking still, you’re making it worse for yourself.” He paused and gathered my hair into a tight hold. “But you can make it stop whenever you’re ready to say sorry.”
He didn’t give me a chance to speak and spanked me again, holding my head up by my hair so I was staring at the fireplace.
I curled my toes, the layers of pain penetrating deep into my body. I clenched my buttocks and my pussy as I jolted and shuddered against his thighs. My scalp complained at his heavy-handed hold on my hair.
After a full minute, and when I didn’t think I could take anymore, he stopped.
“Well?” he asked.
I was crying, sobs juddering from my chest, and my face was soaked with tears.
“One word, Chelsea.” He caressed my sore ass then slipped his finger down the crack of my buttocks.
I sniffed and sniveled and tried to catch my breath.
“You have to learn to trust me, to listen to me and understand that I would never kill anyone without their confession. Your mother wouldn’t have confessed, even if we’d even got as far as speaking to her, because she hadn’t done anything. I would never have killed her, not one member of Galahad would.”
I sobbed harder and shook my head.
