Page 22 of Compelled Obedience

He didn’t waste any time, bringing his huge palm down against my bottom. The cracking sound made me jump, the brush of intoxicating pain like nothing I’d ever felt before. When he brought his hand down three more times, it finally settled into my brain what he was doing.

And I was furious.

Seething.

Thinking of ways to rip out his eyeballs and feed them to the birds or maybe crush his fingers in a door. Both horrible things but no one had ever done anything like this to me. Panting, I struggled, flailing my arms, driving one behind me to try to cover my bottom. When I almost slipped off his lap, he grumbled under his breath and grabbed my wrist, pinning it against my back.

“Nope. You’re going to take this like a good girl, or I’ll need to start over. If I’m forced to do that, then I’ll take the time to pull off my belt. Is that understood?”

“I hate you.” My God, what was I, twelve? I hated him? I was an educated woman, and I couldn’t think of anything better to say to the man? What was wrong with me?

He issued four smacks that brought blinding pain, several shocking jolts electrifying my system and my eyes watered.

His chuckle was dark. “You also need to learn respect.”

Respect? Was he actually kidding me? I could have no respect for the man. Not even a little bit. He was obviously enjoying what he was doing. The way he brought his hand down in methodical motions, one strike coming immediately after the other heightening my senses.

Panting, I couldn’t stop wiggling, seconds later realizing his cock was rock hard. Sweet Jesus. The man was getting off on this. What about his girlfriend? I was sick to my stomach that amidst the agony, I was turned on, so much so I was certain I’d leave a stain on his jeans. I could feel the heat building on my buttocks at the same rapid rate as across my jaw, climbing both cheeks. I would never be able to look the man in the eyes again.

After a couple of minutes, I stopped fighting him. It was no use. I lost count of how many strikes he issued, but I knew one thing for certain.

I was wet, my pussy clenching several times. That sent another wave of embarrassment. I couldn’t breathe, my mind a foggy blur of indecent thoughts that were totally inappropriate but hot as Hades.

Every crack of his hand sent a jarring sound into my ears, my moans becoming deeper. Did he know how aroused I’d become?

When he ceased the spanking, caressing my bruised bottom, I was strangely comforted.

“There you go. That’s being a very good girl.”

Perhaps it was because he was at least twelve to fourteen years old than me, but his praise was strangely acceptable, sending a thrill through me.

“Let’s see if you can continue being that way.” Even the melodic sound of his voice was soothing, pushing me to a strange sense of euphoria. Nothing like this had ever happened to me. I didn’t know my birth father and my stepfather’s method of punishment was entirely different. I shuddered as another memory settled in.

No, I couldn’t do that.

Grant continued the spanking for another two or three minutes, ending with another intimate caress of my skin. When his fingers lingered, sliding briefly between my legs, I moaned audibly and shifted again.

This couldn’t happen.

I sensed he had difficulty pulling away, his breathing as irregular as mine.

He gently helped me to my feet, holding both arms by my sides. I’d never felt so much like a bad girl in my life with my panties still encasing my knees and my stiff skirt barely falling to my hips.

“Now. Can we have an adult discussion about your thoughts on how I can help not only this school but others as well?”

The amusement in his eyes continued, which I hated, but this might be the single time I had an opportunity to get in front of someone who could make a difference in the lives of so many bright, talented kids.

“Absolutely.”

“Good, because you’re also going to learn that I never take no for an answer. You’re spending the afternoon with me.”

“I have additional classes.”

“Lying to me isn’t in your best interest, little girl.”

Why did the two words create butterflies in my stomach? And how did he know I was lying? “What if I say no?”

He narrowed his eyes until I could swear he was undressing me with his eyes. “Then I’ll be forced to resort to different tactics.”

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