Page 46 of Submissive Lies

Steve’s murmurs of appreciation were a balm. Counterpoint to the subtle agony of suspense as his fingers played against my skin, confirmation of the pleasure he had in what he was doing. After the fourth pass, the bed shifted under his weight as he moved further up, leaning on an elbow to speak into my ear while his other hand continued caressing me.

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you, Jen?” His voice was throaty, a low, smooth tone that came from deep within his chest. The sound had my pulse increasing, even though I suspected something hidden behind it.

“Yes, sir.” My answer was stifled, barely above a whisper.

“However…”

That word brought me up. I gulped in air, eager for what was coming next, and yet with tension ratcheting up as muscles stiffened in response. Oh, there was pain incoming. Sweet, scrumptious pain that had my stomach clenching, calf muscles drawing tight as toes curled. None of this was out of fear on my part, but rather exquisite anticipation of what that word promised.

“I am reminded that earlier tonight at dinner I had to ask you to trust me. I had to say ‘please.’ You wouldn’t accept that I am capable of deciding how I spend my money, where I spend it, and on whom I spend it. You questioned me, and my decision. Is that something a good girl does?” He leaned in closer, breath warm against my skin. “Should a good girl be rewarded for that kind of behavior?”

“No, sir.”

He gave an approving chuckle, the tiniest of nods indicating his agreement. “I thought as much. Are you ready, Jen?”

“Yes, sir.” My answer was thick with need, the two words melded almost into one as I rushed to get my answer out. Nerves jittery and eager to feel the first taste of what Steve offered. Yes, I was ready. I was absolutely fucking ready.

He shifted back down to the edge of the bed. The hand that he’d been tracing a lazy pattern over my ass with hadn’t stopped during our conversation, and even now it continued to glide over my skin. His other hand came to my hip, and I felt his fingers grip me, digging in and holding me in place. The hand that had been moving over me stopped.

And then they came. Four sharp, stinging swats.

They were nowhere near as hard as he could have inflicted. This wasn’t my first rodeo, and I knew Steve could have gone much further. But as he’d said, he was being careful. Taking it easy. Though none were hard enough to make me cry out, each one drew an audible gasp out of me. The skin on my ass stung from the smacks, and the warmth left in their aftermath was delicious. I fully expected—wanted—cries to be drawn out of me later. If I was a good girl and deserved them.

His hand returned to my flesh, soothing over where he had just struck. The touch of his fingers over the warmed, tingling skin sent little electrical currents running up my spine. My body began to move. I willed it to be still, and then changed my mind. Maybe just a bit more fuel to the fire. I gave a small wiggle, letting my hips shift back and forth. The hand on my hip gripped me hard as the other stopped in its path.

“Did I not tell you to be still?”

“Yes, sir.” I let out a small whimper of frustration as the hand on my ass pulled away.

“Then be still.”

Four more smacks. Harder this time. Not excessively so, but each with increased intensity. Steve knew what he was doing, and the strength of these new strikes had intensified perfectly compared to the previous ones. My ass flared with fire, burning pain radiating outwards from the epicenter of where each blow landed. Each one overlapped the other, and this time I gritted my teeth, biting back cries rather than gasps. My hands dug into the covers, twisting the fabric within my fingers. What had been little electrical tingles flitting across my skin now became a piece of heated iron, leaving my skin seared with pain, aching, throbbing. My back arched with tension, and though I had intentionally moved after the first set of strikes, this time I had no control, my body scooting up towards the head of the bed as the last smack fell.

“You just can’t be good.” Mock frustration lilted Steve’s voice, a pronounced fake sigh closing up the end. “Can you?”

I made a frustrated whimper in response.

“Oh, well…”

Four more. This time the fire blossomed into an inferno. The pain was sweet oblivion. Oh, fuck yes it was good. Pure, delicious, scorching pain that bent my back into an arc. I held myself shakily on my elbows, teetering because of the binding at my wrists, my hands knotting the bedcover into a ball. I squirmed at each strike, and this time I did cry out. Didn’t even try to grit my teeth or hold back. It just felt so fucking good.

As the fourth strike landed Steve’s hand stopped in place, melded to my ass. His breathing had risen in tempo with every blow, the noise of it overlapping the fading sound of my last cry. It was thick with excitement, a pant that belied his own arousal. He didn’t move, the fingers of one hand dug sharply into my hip while the others splayed where they’d landed. After a moment of stillness, he began to caress me, same as when we’d first started. I lay there basking in the exquisiteness of what he’d done. My breathing started to slow, and he shifted again, arranging himself to where he could speak into my ear.

“Checking in,” he asked softly, tenderly. “Good? Green? Yellow?”

I puddled at his words. Good? Good? It was fucking perfect.

“Good. Green. Green.” I knew my words were broken, hoarse, but I was still wallowing in the bliss that was cocooning my body like a blanket. I wanted to say more, give him all the words rattling around in my head, but the three I got out were the best I could do.

“Okay.” He leaned into me, placing a kiss on my head.

I gave a soft moan at the feeling of the kiss. Steve slid further up the bed, pulling one of the pillows down until he had it positioned near my head. I looked at it with confusion, not entirely sure why he done it. I didn’t dwell on it, letting its presence slip away as he moved back down to the foot of the bed. His hand went back to massaging my enflamed butt in slow, gentle swirls. The pass of his fingers stung, and yet at the same time heightened the sensations the strikes had created.

“You know, as much as I love the feeling of my hand smacking your ass, I can’t help but notice that despite spanking you harder each time for not obeying me, it doesn’t appear to be having the proper effect. If anything, it just seems to be making you move even more.” His voice dropped an octave, taking on a disapproving tone. “I don’t think I’m going about this the right way. I think I should try something different.”

I collapsed against the covers, trying to get my breathing under some semblance of control. My body was a shuddery, limp pool, and I sank into the bed, a giddy wilted mess.

Until I heard the sound of him removing his belt.

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