Page 31 of Innocence
“Of course my handprints on your beautiful ass will look much better.”
A small part of me swelled with pride at the word beautiful. It wasn’t a word associated with me, ever. I used to dream about a man that would look me deep in the eyes and tell me how pretty I was. That dream died a long time ago.
Hearing my captor say it was almost mocking. Enzo was as gorgeous as he was evil. He could tell a girl she was hideous and she’d still drop her panties for him. False flattery was unneeded, and just plain mean.
“Did you shave your pretty pink pussy just for me?” His large palm continued to caress my backside as he spoke. “Or is it something you always do?”
Okay, now he was just being rude.
I huffed and barked back, “It’s waxed.”
Last week, Angie had been nervous for her first appointment for a full body wax. So, I let her practice on me. I was amazed that there was still no regrowth. It almost made the pain worth it.
My response was answered with a firm swat that had my back arching, lifting my ass further up.
“I’ve had enough of your back talk, Pet.”
“Screw you,” I growled.
I yelped with the next smack, this time on the other cheek. Whoever my abductor was, he was a spanking master. Two strikes, and my backside was already on fire.
“That’s screw you, Master, to you.”
Pfft, like that was ever going to happen.
“It’s time for you to learn some manners, Pet.” He sighed, “I’ve been far too lenient with you.”
Lenient? He had me sprawled over his lap like a child, naked and thoroughly embarrassed. If this was what he called lenient, then I’d hate to see what he thought was strict.
“You can make this easier on yourself.”
I lifted my head long enough to spit out, “Do your worst.”
The corner of his mouth curled. “I do enjoy a challenge.”
Whatever.
I hung my head and stared at his denim covered calf, letting my anger grow every time the muscle twitched. The rage gave me something else to focus on. A welcome chance to forget about my dire circumstances. Even if it was just for a second.
Which was about all the time I got before his assault began.
I yelped and whined as his hand flew from one side of my ass, to the other. Each strike he delivered somehow landed on the same spot he’d hit before. A quick succession of firm swats that had tears leaking from my eyes.
It was excruciating, and not because of the pain. The fire slicing up my back and down my legs was agonizing. But what really made tears stream down my face, was what he did in between hits.
Strong fingers dug into my flesh, massaging away the pain. Only to deliver more after. My body didn’t know what to do. Should I tense? Should I relax?
My mind was just as bad. Hating him one second, while wanting to thank him the next. It was a whole new level of fuckery. One I didn’t like. Why couldn’t he just hurt me?
The next time his open palm slammed down, it was on my thigh. Sparks shot up my trembling legs. I froze, more scared of the foreign feeling stirring in my core than I was of the man assaulting me. What was worse, he noticed.
“You like that.”
It wasn’t a question, but I denied it anyway. “No I don’t.”
I felt his muscles tense under me as his fingers dug in, firmly gripping my leg to pull it away from the other one. I fought against his strength. Tried desperately to keep my thighs locked together. It was no use.
He pried me open, spreading my embarrassment as air kissed the intimate pink parts of my body that I had yet to explore.
