Page 64 of Bratva Bride
The first spank landed like controlled lightning, his palm connecting with my bare ass in a crack that seemed to echo through my entire existence. Not hard—Ivan was too careful for that—but firm enough that the sting bloomed immediately, spreading heat across my skin like watercolors bleeding into wet paper. But it was what happened between my legs that made metremble. The impact had sent a shockwave straight to my clit, making it pulse with a desperation that bordered on violent.
"One," I gasped, my voice already wrecked. "Thank you, Daddy."
The words tasted like submission and honey, sweet and thick in my mouth. My fingers clutched the sofa cushion hard enough that my knuckles went white, trying to ground myself against the wave of pure want that threatened to drown me. How was I going to make it through ten when just one had me this close to the edge?
His hand rubbed the spot he'd just struck, soothing the sting into something deeper, warmer. "Good girl. So perfect for me."
The second spank came without additional warning, landing slightly lower, catching the fullest part of my ass. The sound was sharper this time, and the sensation shot through me like electricity finding ground. My clit throbbed in response, swollen and desperate against his thigh.
"Two. Thank you, Daddy."
I could hear the desperation in my own voice, could feel my hips trying to move without my permission, seeking friction that might tip me over the edge I was already dancing on. But Ivan's other hand settled on my lower back, holding me steady, keeping me in place for whatever came next.
The third strike landed on my other cheek, balancing the sensation, and my body interpreted it as the most erotic thing that had ever happened to it. Heat was spreading everywhere—across my ass where his hand was painting me pink, through my core where everything clenched and released in waves, down to my toes that were curling against nothing.
"Three," I whimpered. "Thank you, Daddy."
"You're doing so well," he murmured, his fingers tracing the heat he'd created. "Already getting such a pretty color. Pink like those strawberry pancakes you love."
The fourth spank caught me mid-thought, harder than the others, and I actually cried out. Not from pain—the sensation was too complex for that simple word. It was intensity and need and something that made my pussy clench so hard I saw stars.
"F-four. Thank you, Daddy."
"So good for me, baby girl."
I wasn't going to survive. I was going to dissolve into atoms, combust from internal fire, come so hard I transcended physical form. My entire body was one exposed nerve, every sensation magnified beyond reason. I could feel my wetness dripping now, could hear the subtle wet sounds when I shifted, could smell my arousal thick in the air between us.
The fifth spank landed where my ass met my thigh, that sensitive crease that made me jerk and gasp. The movement pressed my clit harder against his leg, and I had to bite down on a moan that wanted to be a scream.
"Five. Thank you—" My voice broke. "Thank you, Daddy."
"Good girl," he praised, rubbing the spot he'd just marked. "Taking your discipline so well. Such a good girl for me."
The sixth strike came faster, catching me before I'd fully processed the fifth. My body was nothing but sensation now, boundaries between pain and pleasure completely dissolved. Each spank sent waves through me, building on the previous ones, creating a symphony of sensation that was rapidly approaching crescendo.
"Six!" The number came out as a sob. "Thank you, Daddy. Please—"
"Please what, kotyonok?"
I didn't know. Please stop. Please never stop. Please let me come. Please understand that I was going to die if this continued and die if it didn't.
The seventh spank was gentler, almost tender, but somehow that made it worse. Or better. The soft intensity of it, the careeven in discipline, made my clit throb so hard I thought I might come just from the pulsing.
"Seven," I whispered. "Thank you, Daddy."
"Three more, baby. You can do this."
I couldn't. I absolutely couldn't. My body was wound so tight I could feel the orgasm building at the base of my spine, in my thighs that were shaking, in my core that clenched around nothing. Three more might actually kill me.
The eighth landed perfectly centered, the impact reverberating through my entire pelvis. I made a sound that didn't have a name, somewhere between a sob and a moan and a prayer.
"Eight. Thank you—thank you, Daddy."
My voice was gone, replaced by desperation and need. I was so close to the edge that one more might push me over. My clit was swollen beyond reason, pulsing with my heartbeat, sending waves of pre-orgasmic pleasure through my entire body.
"You're trembling," Ivan observed, his hand ghosting over my heated skin. "Are you close, baby girl?"
"Yes," I sobbed. "So close. I can't—I don't think I can—"
