Page 75 of Merciless Desires

He slides a chair over next to the bed, and with seemingly no effort, I'm hauled up and draped face down over his lap. It happens too fast for me to even put up a fight, and the next thing I know my sleep shorts are yanked down to my calves bearing my ass to him.

I start to wiggle, but his arm wraps over my hip, pinning me in place. “What do you think you're doing?” I yell, as I thrash and twist attempting to get away from him.

His hold is like a steel vice, and it's clear I won't be going anywhere until he decides to let me go. "You tried to run from me. Twice. I warned you the first time, now you must be punished."

His hand strokes over my naked ass cheek tenderly, and to my mortification, it triggers a rush of moisture between my legs. “Don't you dare,” I grind out through my teeth.

Then I try a different tactic—pleading.

“Please, I won't do it again. I promise I won't try to run again. Or hit you with anything.” I'm lying through my teeth but I'll say anything right now. Anything to get him to let me go.

He squeezes my ass and I almost moan. Good god, what is wrong with me? I shiver, feeling his skin on mine. His touch is warm and rough and a small measure of desire flickers to life in me.

“What are you doing?” I demand, my heart racing in my chest.

“Teaching you a lesson.”

What the fuck?

His hand lifts off of my ass and then slams down onto my left cheek. The sound of his palm cracking against my bare skin echoes off the walls, and searing pain explodes across my backside. The pain only has a second to register before he lands another on the right side.

I jerk against his hold, a ragged gasp escaping my lips as the assault continues.

"Fucking...bastard..."

I've never been spanked before. My mother was strict, but never resorted to physical discipline. And my sexual experience is very limited. As in, I've had sex twice and both times were nothing to write home about.

His hand slides up and over my cheeks and then down the backs of my thighs.

My jaw clenches hard enough to ache as I process what's going on.

Another blistering smack, then two more in quick succession—one on each cheek. I keep my teeth gritted, trying hard to swallow any sounds. Mostly because I'm not sure what will come out. I'm not sure how I'm feeling. Compared to all the ways he can hurt me—things he can do to me while I'm at his mercy—this doesn't rate super high on the vicious brutality scale. It stings like a bitch, but it kind of feels...something else. I wouldn't say good. Not exactly.

He leans over slightly and I flinch instinctively, anticipating another blow. Instead, his hand fists in my hair, wrenching my head back. His lips graze my ear.

"Do not call me bastard. "You will address me as 'Sir'." He speaks casually as if we're simply making pleasant conversation rather than him assaulting the naked ass of a bound woman draped over his knee.

He unleashes a flurry of spanks, each one harder and more painful than the last. My entire body jolts with every slap, my bottom on fire from the relentless onslaught. His palm comes down on my inflamed skin over and over. I can feel every single slap deep in my core, radiating out into trembling feelings of helplessness and...pleasure.

What is wrong with me that I feel pleasure from this?

Every time he drives his open palm down upon my sensitive flesh with a sharp, stinging smack, an explosion of red-hot pain shoots through my body and ends with a tingling between my legs. He is unrelenting, leaving no part of my bottom untouched. I wince and whimper as the heat from every hard slap penetrates my core like wildfire, leaving scorching desire in its wake. Every agonizing strike sears through me as I try to arch and twist away from him to no avail. He punishes my exposed bottom until it glows ruby red beneath his fiery touch.

I'm too dazed to summon any real defiance.

With each strike, I become increasingly aware of his dominance and power. His absolute control over me.

"Say it," he orders.

Say what?

"I..uh..." What is it he wants me to say?

"How will you address me?" His hand rests right on the spot where the curve of my ass meets my thighs.

"Dickhead?"

His hand comes down hard, several times in succession, brutal stings, and I struggle to hold back tears. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Unfortunately, I'm completely at his mercy, and there's nothing I can do about it. He has all the power in this situation.

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