Page 76 of Merciless Desires

I attempt to keep my emotions at bay by squeezing my eyelids shut, but he increases the force of his slaps until involuntary tears flow down my cheeks.

"S-sir," I manage to squeak out.

"Good girl."

My body trembles uncontrollably, but I feel an odd fluttering in my chest at his praise.

“I am the boss. You will do as I say.” He rubs his calloused palm over my burning cheeks. "Do you understand?"

“Y-yes.” His hand freezes, and then I remember myself. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he answers.

Softly he caresses my hips, my lower back, the curve of my ass, and that tender spot at the top of my thighs.

My ass is sore and achy and burns like fire.

He glides his fingers up and down my ravaged skin. His touch is comforting and soothing, and I can't help but crave more.

"Good girls get rewarded.” His murmur causes a strange sense of pride to rise in me as if his approval is important to me. My tears start to dry and I sniffle, trying to normalize my breathing and soothe both my emotional turmoil and the frenzied thudding of my heart against my rib cage.

As the pain of my punishment fades, something else takes its place. A sensation that's different yet similar. Arousal.

I feel the moisture coating my inner thighs.

Oh my god. I'm turned on by lying bare-assed over a serial killer's thighs while he blisters my butt, yet both of the nice boys I had perfectly sweet, very vanilla sex with left me cold and unsatisfied? How defective am I?

His fingers drift closer to my pussy, sending a tingle of anticipation up my spine. I inhale sharply, my teeth lightly biting down on my bottom lip.

He’s gonna know. He's gonna know I'm drenched.

Do I care?

I squeeze my legs together attempting to keep him from finding out.

His fingertips are so soothing, though, my muscles loosen, and without realizing it, my legs spread slightly. His finger lightly brushes my inner thigh, gliding over the wetness there.

I stiffen. His fingers journey deeper, probing between my legs, over my inner folds where I’m soaked.

He chuckles a low, rumbling sound and my face heats in mortification.

I have no words.

His fingers move along the crease of my pussy, grazing my clit ever so slightly before receding. He repeats this over and over again until I'm lost in the blissful sensation.

It's a tease though. And before long, my clit is aching with need, throbbing in a way I’ve never experienced before. I didn’t know such a heightened sense of awareness existed.

My craving is nearly unbearable. My nipples are so sensitive that the fabric of my tank top rubbing against them feels like a caress, which only increases the intensity of my desire.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, it dawns on me that I'm no longer fighting, no longer struggling, but I push that thought aside to examine later.

What is wrong with me? Why am I so worked up like this?

I'm entranced by his gentle strokes back and forth. His roughened fingertip sends sparks through me every time it grazes my clit.

The walls of my pussy clench and I release a series of keening little whimpers.

I need to come. I need it more than air, more than I need to breathe right now. His calloused fingertip begins circling my clit, still very gently.

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