Page 35 of The Captain's Bounty
Lissa felt it retreat to sulk at the back of her mind, and at last, the unwelcome warmth it had brought out in her began to fade. She would have happily lectured it on personal space, sexual privacy, and everything else that did not exist when two individuals lived within the same skin, but she never got the chance. The whisper-soft hiss of the door sliding open and the soft clatter of dishes knocking together announced she had a visitor.
She snapped her legs shut, but not fast enough.
“I saw that,” Bruwes drawled.
She cocked an ear as his heavier footfalls crossed the threshold. Blindfolded, she could barely remember where she was in relation to the rest of the room, but he sounded like he was passing along her left side. Whatever happened to those heightened senses people were supposed to develop when they couldn’t see? The weird echo in his small cabin was confusing her. He must be setting the dishes on the tiny table by the bed, but was that at the head of the bed, behind it? When she turnedher head to zero in on him, was she facing the wall, the door, the bathroom?
She tried to rub the blindfold up over her ears surreptitiously with her shoulder.
“Did I say you could take your blindfold off?” he asked.
Shit, he’d noticed.
Gagged and bound, there wasn’t a lot she could do, but when she heard his footsteps clumping across the floor grates, she knew there was only a small chance that he was simply walking around the room. He was coming at her.
She tried to scramble fully onto the bed, but his hand caught her anyway. One clamped onto the small of her back, forcing her flat on the mattress; the other gave each of her buttocks a brisk slap.
“Did I?” he asked again.
She shook her head.
“Then why keep doing it, I wonder. Is it because you like the punishment or because you simply aren’t paying attention?”
She wasn’t anywhere near stupid enough to answer that. Not until he grabbed a fistful of her hair, forcing her to—presumably—face him.
“Which is it?” he demanded.
Her pussy throbbed molten all over again. She groaned, clamping her lips as closed as possible over her gag to keep those traitorous sounds back. But even that subtle movement ceased the instant he took hold of her blindfold and tore it off her face, leaving her blinking in the sudden brightness.
“Look at me.”
She did, hesitantly, almost afraid to. He didn’t look angry though.
He almost never does, until it’s too late,it muttered in her head.
“Which is it?” he coaxed, sounding far less demanding now, his voice husky and deep. “Is it the punishment you like?”
His hand on her bottom rubbed, and the hand he’d snatched away her blindfold with returned to the small of her back, holding her down again.
Her breath caught, but before she could even formulate an answer, his hand abandoned her ass and back down it came, slapping hard—not brisk and light, like before—but sharp enough to make her bury her face between her arms again in an effort to smother the shrillness of her cries.
He didn’t stop at just one. He spanked her steadily, each swat seeming to crack into her harder than before. From the top of her ass to the tops of her thighs, where the flesh was so much more sensitive than her ass.
She was too tender for this.
Within only a handful of slaps, it was like he’d never stopped spanking her from before. He’d reawakened every dull pulsing nerve, rekindling that to sharp pain once more, and reigniting that slow flame that once more grew until it consumed her.
Oh, it hurt.
And oh, what that hurt did to her.
Not only was the heat rekindled in her bottom, but it was back between her legs, pulsing the same heady beat as the wounded throb now in the deep muscle tissue of her ass. Her clit was consumed by it.
You didn’t like it when I did that, it noted.
She buried her face in the rumpled bedding, trying so hard to ignore it and just drink in the sensations he was creating.
“No?” Bruwes said. “It’s not the spanking you like? It must be then you’re just not paying attention, is that right?”
