Page 40 of Taming Her

Her sweats were dragged up and over her painful behind. The material scratched her flesh. She cried out, then afterward the silence was deafening.

Her pulse thudded in her ears.

Her heart was pounding.

“You, little madam, are not very good at taking a spanking.” He hauled her upward so she was again nestled on his lap. “But I guess that will come with practice.”

She glared at him.

“Ahh, be careful, you’re on a clean state. Glares are worth five spanks, remember.”

She looked away. Her breaths were coming fast, her breasts rising and falling. Beneath the white cotton of the t-shirt her dark nipples poked forward.

“It can be arousing, can’t it?” He brushed the back of his thumb over her right nipple.

She sucked in air. She was so tender there, so hypersensitive.

“A spanking,” he went on softly, “isn’t intended to be erotic, but having your bare bottom reddened by a man, a dom, it can cause a chain of reactions in the body, like this.” He flicked her other nipple.

Again she gasped.

“And I’d bet you’re wet, too. Ready for fucking.”

“No.” She closed her eyes. A tremble clattered down her spine, over her asshole, clenching her pussy and swelling her clit. A memory of Griff doing just that, fucking her the night before filled her mind. Right in this room, on the floor they’d gone for it. He’d been passionate and strong, his cock filling her deliciously. And the orgasm, hell yeah, she’d come with an intensity she hadn’t experienced in a long time. In fact she’d just passed out afterward.

Since Griff? Had it been that long ago?

“But I’m not going to fuck you now,” he said. “You’ve been a bad girl and that would be rewarding you.”

“I thought you said my slate was clean.” She wiped her cheek; it was damp.

He paused, then, “It is, but what you actually need is food. Regular nourishing meals are important.”

He maneuvered her off his lap and stood.

She looked up at him from the chair, squirming when her ass pained her. It was as if she’d sat on a nest of biting red ants.

“You can sit there or in the living room,” he said, “while I finish preparing the meal.”

She stood. “I’ll go outside.” She pointed at the door. “Get some fresh air.”

He glanced at the patio area. “Stay where I can see you.”

“You don’t really think I’m going to run off, do you? I’m in the middle of bloody nowhere.”

“I didn’t think you’d nearly break your neck trying to reach your purse but you did.”

She mashed her lips together, flicked her hair over her shoulders, and stepped, barefoot, onto the patio.

It was gritty on her soles, but she didn’t care. She strolled into a shard of golden evening sunshine, closed her eyes, and breathed deep.

The air was heavy with the fragrance of petals. She caught the familiar smell of roses and opened her eyes. They were winding over the sad-looking bench, but originated from a jagged bit of broken trellis. Small baby pink buds with yellow stamens bobbed their heads at her. But they were unkempt, had been left to run rack and ruin and it was almost as if they knew that, mocked her because of it. What they needed was a good prune, to be brought down to ground level and start again. That way they’d grow straight with strength in their stems. All they needed was a bit of cruelty but ultimately that was being kind to them.

Ava folded her arms around her chest, hugging herself. She glanced into the kitchen at Griff.

He was humming and stirring a steaming pot with a wooden spoon.

Was that what he was doing with her? Being cruel to be kind?

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