As if induced into a trance, I do as asked. His hard muscular thighs press against my abdomen and I can feel his gigantic rock-hard erection against my pulsing sex. My arms are folded on a cushion, my head buried between them.
“Perfect,” he growls as he shoves my tight dress up above my ass, leaving my thong, a mere piece of butt floss, intact. I can feel his eyes on my bottom.
“You have a gorgeous ass, Zoey. It’s a shame you don’t have a real boyfriend to appreciate it.”
I’m too entranced to say a word.
“This is going to hurt. I want you to choose a safe word and use it if it becomes too much for you.”
Shit. I can’t get my mind to work. Or my mouth to move. Think, Zoey, Think.
“Well, Zoey…”
“Please,” I murmur. Mama’s magic word.
“Any word but that.”
“Mama,” I say without overthinking it.
“Excellent. Now, tell me, Zoey, you’ll never lie to me again.”
Before I can I get my mouth to move, a firm hand crashes down on my right cheek. I feel the sting as the sharp sound echoes in my ears. A moan escapes my mouth.
He hits me again, this time harder. “Zoey…”
“I’ll never lie to you again.”
Slap! “Zoey, show a little respect. Say: ‘Sir, I’ll never lie to you again.’”
My voice a tremor, I do what he asks.
“Now, apologize for lying to me.”
Slap! I wince. “I’m sorry.”
“Not good enough.” Another swat of his hand. “You’re missing a word.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Apology accepted. But you need something more as a reminder to NEVER lie to me again.”
Without warning, his large hand crashes down on me again. I scream out. And then again. And again and again. Tears sting my eyes and I whimper. He picks ups his pace and spanks me yet harder, faster. Always in the same spot. Over and over. My ass is on fire. My whimpers morph into sobs. Loud, soulful wails like the cries of an animal in heat. Scorching tears sear my face and forearms. My sobbing intensifies, washing out the harsh crackle of his hand upon contact with my raw burning flesh, deafening me, arousing me, setting every ounce of me ablaze.
“Zoey, no more playing games. No more testing me. Do you understand?”
I nod like a bobblehead doll, unable to get a single word out.
“Zoey, I need words.”
“I understand, sir.” I manage, my voice a mere croak.
And then suddenly, I feel his powerful knees press hard against me. They bounce me into a standing position, but as I rise, my knees buckle beneath my legs. Clasping my waist, he catches me before I collapse onto the floor. Heaving, I let him hold my limp body in his arms.
“Shh, baby.” Still holding me firmly in one arm, he lifts his other hand and smooths my hair. “Why didn’t you use your safe word?”
“I’m sorry,” I sob out from my quivering lips. Hot tears continue to stream from my eyes.
“No, I’m sorry.” His voice is soft and compassionate. “Did I hurt you?”
“A little,” I lie. Yes, it hurt like hell, but I loved every erotically charged minute. My safe word was nowhere near the tip of my tongue.
“Come here.” Wordlessly, he draws me in closer until my breasts graze his chest. My sensitized nipples pucker beneath my dress, sending another rush of wetness to my sex. His rock-hard cock presses against me as he caresses my sore butt. His tender touch is so soothing. The pain mixes with pleasure. Still in stilettos, I rest my head against his pecs. My eyes clamp shut as his heartbeat drums in my ear like a sweet lullaby. My crying subsides.
I don’t know how long we stay in this position until his sultry voice awakens me from my state of nirvana. I gaze up at him. His eyes are hooded and a faint smile plays on his lips. With one hand, he brushes away my remaining tears. Thank God, I wore waterproof mascara. One hot wet mess is enough.
“C’mon, let’s get you back to your party. And let’s forget this ever happened.”
I nod, knowing I will never forget this moment. This experience. Commiting it to memory, I catch my breath.
Five minutes later, we’re back in his sports car. This time he drives down the twisting, hilly roads slowly, meandering as if he never wants our journey to end. And truthfully, neither do I. “All of Me” plays on the radio. The lyrics fill my head and my heart.
The painful truth hits me like a rockslide. I turn my head toward him, glimpsing his intensely beautiful profile. A runaway tear trickles down my face. Yes, all of me loves all of him.
“Go,” he says stoically as he drops me off.
The elegant dining room of Fig & Olive is still filled and bustling. Adjusting my dress, I stumble back to my table. Jeffrey and his friends are in the middle of eating dinner. Everything looks and smells delicious, but I’m not hungry.
“Zoester, where’d you go?” asks Jeffrey as I take my seat.