Page 22 of Royal Deception
I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning at the sight of her. The strength she’s showing, even now, sends a thrill through me. I nearly shiver, my role almost slipping, but I push it back. Clary has no idea the level of control she holds over me right now.
So many people think submission is about completely surrendering, but the truth is that there is more trust in submission than anyone realizes. Clary doesn’t know that yet, but she’ll learn.
Clary jerks again as she gags on the soap, but my grip on her tightens and I stare down at her with a level gaze. “Do you think you’ve learned not to talk back to me?” I ask, keeping my tone cool.
She nods slowly, a few stray tears leaking down her cheeks. It takes all my self-control not to combust on the spot, but I shove my burning desire to the side, focusing instead on the way her lashes make a perfect little U-shape as she lowers her gaze.
“And do you agree to think twice before saying such foul, rude things?” I prod. She nods again and tries to swallow but gives up, letting the saliva mix with the soap to spill down her chin.
“Good girl,” I say, releasing my grip. “Go wash your mouth out now and come back to me.”
I don’t release the bonds, though, amusement filling me as I watch her struggle to get the faucet by the coffee bar turned on with her chin, then tilts her head under the stream to start rinsing the soap from her mouth.
It takes a good few minutes for her to get it all out but when she’s done, she comes back over to me and stands in front of me, breathing slowly through her nose. I step behind her again and release her from the tie, carelessly tossing it onto my chair before coming to stand in front of her.
“You’re going to strip for me,” I order her. “Take off your skirt and your panties and kneel on all fours.”
A mix of uncertainty and anticipation crosses her face before she brings her hands up and unzips the side of her skirt, letting it fall to the ground as she steps out of it, heels still on her feet.
I glance down at the skirt, then back up at her. “Fold it, neatly,” I command. “Then your panties.”
She draws in a sharp breath and nods, reaching down to pick up the purple fabric, folding it into a neat square, though her hands tremble as she moves. My mouth quirks up in satisfaction as she stands in front of me once more, then slowly, inch by inch, tugs her panties down and lets them drop.
She’s standing in front of me in nothing but a white blouse that’s gone sheer from the soap and water soaking through it, revealing a white, lacy corset top underneath. My cock hardens immediately as I take her in, need pulsing through me.
“Now kneel,” I say, my voice commanding, tone almost harsh in my attempt to hide just how much I’m turned on by the sight of her.
Sinking to the ground, she gets on all fours, exposing her bare buttocks to me as she faces the door. It’s a damned good thing my office is soundproof because I plan on making certain to take full advantage of her position.
“You have three options,” I say, reaching out to trace a hand over her bare skin. She shivers, a slight tremble in her shoulders when I rest my hand against her. “My hand,” I offer, “the ruler from my desk… or my belt.”
I pause, letting the options sink in for her. She gasps, and I see her swallow, a grimace on her face as she tastes the faint, lingering scent of soap. “The b–belt,” she stammers out. “Please.”
My eyes widen, a mix of disbelief and shock rippling over me. I wouldn’t have thought she had it in her, but Clary is constantly surprising me lately.
“Very well,” I say, reaching down to unbuckle my belt with a slow swish. Clary flinches almost imperceptibly then straightens out her shoulders and leans forward on her hands a little more, her backside raising higher.
I fold the belt in half, then let it fall forward, gently caressing her skin with the supple leather. The only sound in the room is that of her soft breaths as I raise my hand back. “Count each one,” I say, then let it fall.
The sharp crack of the first blow echoes through the room, followed by a sharp gasp. Clary jerks forward instinctively, but she doesn’t pull away. Not yet.
“One!” she cries out, her voice cracking.
The belt falls against her skin again and again, marking up her backside with red stripes, marks that practically glow with heat as I stop briefly to run my hand over them.
She continues counting, the few leaky tears turning into full sobs by the time I’m at number eight. Her body shakes as she tenses up, fingers curling into the plush carpet of the floor as if to try to ground herself.
But she doesn’t beg me to stop. She doesn’t use her safe word. She continues taking the punishment, one painful hit at a time, without complaint.
Clary never ceases to amaze me, I realize as I deliver the last two blows in quick succession. She calls out, “Nine, ten!” before all but collapsing forward, and I reach out to catch her, steadyingher as I scoop her up and carry her over to sit with me on my couch.
Her body flails as she tries to get away from me, the humiliation and torment of the punishment finally breaking the walls down around her until she’s squirming in my lap, half-hysterical, but I gently stroke her hair, shushing her to calm her down.
“You did so well,” I murmur, pressing kisses against her temple, her cheeks. “You did perfectly, Kitten. You took your punishment perfectly. It’s all over. You’re forgiven now.” I’m proud of her for how well she managed, for how unfailingly she accepted every delivered hit of the belt.
Her sobs slow into stuttering breaths, then down to a few whispered sighs as she comes down from the adrenaline rush of the experience. I continue murmuring soothing words to her until she sits up a little, looking at me.
“I’m sorry,” she says, hanging her head. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
