“Now tell me why you went carousing last night,” he said.
“Because I wanted to try and forget about you,” she admitted. “Sir,” she added, catching her lapse just in the nick of time.
There was a long silence after she said that. “You should have told me your plans,” he said in a low voice. “You should always alert me when you’re getting tempted to do something reckless and self-destructive. I’ll never let you endanger yourself,” he told her. “But you didn’t think about the consequences of your actions and you ended up drunk, with men trying to take advantage of you. What would’ve happened to you had I not been there to save you?”
“It would’ve been a problem Mister Sharpe,” she told him. “I never should have drank and danced in front of those men, Sir.”
He spanked her bare ass again and then yet another time for good measure. She felt her buttocks quivering afterwards, and the flood of heat from his precise blows enveloped her slit with tingling warmth.
She moaned as she was flooded by a wave of adrenaline and sexual gratification.
“If you knew it was wrong, then you shouldn’t have done it. But you wanted to upset me, didn’t you?” he demanded.
“Yes,” she said.
And it was true that part of her had wanted him to be jealous when she’d let that douchebag guy grind on her backside at the bar. But it was also true that she wanted to tell him how bad and wrong she’d been because she liked the way it felt when Cullen Sharpe spanked her bottom.
Did he know she was enjoying this?
He must. He’s not a fool.
As if on cue, his palm crashed into her bare buttocks, sending her forward, making her grunt.
He slapped her again. Now he was alternating his spanking from one sensitive, sore ass cheek to the other, and then back again.
His spanking had become rhythmic and profoundly sexual, as she felt his desire growing, and his excitement.
He’d stopped talking. His breathing was audible in the near silence and stillness of the room.
The only sounds were the sounds of flesh on quivering flesh, of his palm as it struck her increasingly sore and excited butt, and the little grunts and groans that escaped Ivy’s mouth and throat as each strike excited her more and more.
Her pussy was throbbing wet. She felt as though she might even come from what he was doing to her.
“You disappointed me greatly,” he whispered, grabbing her fleshy hips with his hands, roughly massaging the skin as he drove his hips into her.
She moaned, feeling his hard bulge against her bare, slickly glazed cunt.
“I was very bad, Sir,” she responded.
“You have no idea,” he told her. “You think this is a game?”
“No, Mister Sharpe.”
“Yes, you do.” He spanked her again and again and again.
She cried out loudly, partly in pain, partly in ecstasy. She didn’t even know which was which anymore. Her body was bathed in glowing sweat. She was totally bare and naked and this powerful man was doing anything he wanted to her.
“Cullen,” she whispered, just barely mouthing the word.
“Would you still think it was a game if I fucked you like the bad girl you are?” he asked, slapping her flesh yet again. And then his hand spread out, his fingers gripping her skin, sliding down towards her upturned pussy, the mound trembling, her slit open, juicy.
His middle finger slowly slid against her folds, and she cried out in desperation. He slowly, slowly inserted his finger inside her. “Your little pussy is so fucking tight,” he said, “and you think I’d ever let another man have it?”
“No, Sir,” she moaned. “I’m, I’m going to—“
“Don’t you dare come right now,” he told her, as he began fucking her pussy with his one finger. “Look at how wet you are,” he said.
She felt her belly rippling with suppressed pleasure. She’d never had a man’s fingers inside her, never had to battle against her own climax. How could she stop this unstoppable force?
And in the end, she stopped it by just holding her breath, and exerting sheer willpower over her body. As she trembled and groaned while Cullen’s finger mercilessly fucked her dripping wet slit, Ivy closed her eyes tightly and held her breath. Sweat dripped down her forehead, down her legs.
He was slowly fucking her with his long finger, and with each full entry, he would clasp her buttocks with his entire palm. By the end, he was finger-fucking her and slapping her with his palm at the same time.
She bit her lip so hard that she tasted copper and metal on her tongue.
“You can let go of your ankles now,” Cullen said, withdrawing his hand from her.
She stood up, feeling the sore aching in her thighs and the raw redness of her butt cheeks. And then she faced him, as he spun her slowly with his hand on her hip.
Now they were looking directly at one another, face to face.
“You’ve got me worked up, Ivy,” he said, and his nostrils flared as those icy eyes melted her with the heat he was somehow giving off.