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S arah

Two live podcasts in the same day.

It’s not a new record, but it’s keeping my podcast at the top of the charts. I’m still trending. My email is full of sponsors who want to work with me.

All it takes is a little bit of information nobody else has until they hear it on your podcast to keep the listeners tuning in.

After an exhausting day of researching and podcasting, I’m feeling pretty weary.

It’s been a long time since I’ve heard from Boyd.

I’m trying my best not to pester him for new information when I know he’s busy.

Still, it’s pretty exciting having someone directly involved in the manhunt as close as a text message.

“If Boyd finds him, I’ll be the first one to know,” I say, taking a few hits of my vape before putting it on the nightstand and lying back on the bed. “I’ll break the story before Vegas News or CNN. I’ll have his name before it becomes public!”

Excitement courses through me as I imagine it.

Sarah Parker, the true-crime-junkie-slash-true-crime-podcaster, breaking news about the Mafia Prince Killer before anyone else.

I’ve already felt that adrenaline. It’s an incredible rush.

It almost makes me feel like a real reporter, instead of a podcaster.

“The top story in true crime right now—hell, the top story everywhere after he struck again,” I say, smiling from ear to ear. “And I’m right in the middle of the action. Well, Boyd is in the middle of it, but I’m pretty close.”

I doze off and dream about getting every podcast award imaginable for the year. Being called a revolutionary. Being asked how I got all the information before anyone else. Even in my dreams, I don’t betray Big Boyd. I keep my source a secret, just like a real journalist would.

Then I get rewarded.

I’m dreaming about those sweet rewards when my bed shakes and my eyes fly open. My second time being woken up by Big Boyd is less startling than the first, but I still sit up in a panic. It immediately passes when I see his emerald-gold gaze.

“Boyd!” I say, hopping out of bed. “I wasn’t sure if I would see you tonight!”

“Told you we were going to talk about how you accidentally read my text message,” he says ominously, narrowing his eyes at me. “Care to explain yourself? Or should I just take off my belt?”

I swallow hard and tense up. My eyes nervously flick to the thick leather belt around his waist. That will hurt a lot more than his hand.

But I can’t lie to him. I tried to get by with a half-truth, and it didn’t work.

Time to face the consequences of my actions.

I’m going to have to face them like a bad little girl, which is exactly what I feel like right now.

“I was snooping,” I mumble, looking down at the floor. “I saw the message flash and I caught a glimpse of Lloyd Brennan’s name, so I wanted to read it.”

“So you could put it on your podcast?” he growls.

“To see if it was something I could put on my podcast,” I admit. “But I would have still asked you first.”

“Take off your robe,” he says, reaching down to unfasten his belt. “Then bend over the bed.”

“You’re not really going to whip me with your belt, are you?” I feel tears welling up in my eyes. “I’m sorry for reading it, but…”

“You’re getting ten,” he says casually. “That’s a lot less than you should get for something like this. You knew it was wrong to read my text messages, didn’t you? Admit it, and I might go easy on you.”

“Yes,” I whimper. “I knew it was wrong.”

“Then take your punishment like a good girl so we can put this behind us,” he says, motioning to the bed and folding his belt in his hand.

I knew I had a spanking coming, but I didn’t realize it would be his belt. I’m terrified of being whipped. I want to protest—beg—do anything to make him change his mind. But the look in his eyes reflects determination, and I don’t want to make it worse.

I tremble as I pull the cord holding my robe around my waist and let it fall to the floor. Boyd drinks in the sight of me before motioning to the bed again. I turn, put my palms against it, and brace myself for what is sure to hurt.

“Bend over further,” Boyd instructs, putting a hand on my back and pressing until my face is against the bed and my arms are flat. “That’s it. Stick your ass out like a naughty little girl who knows she deserves this.”

I do as he says, close my eyes, and tremble as I wait for the first lash from the thick leather in Boyd’s hand. It whistles in the air before the pain explodes across the surface of my ass. I gasp, groan, and kick the floor with my toes.

“Ow! Ow! That fucking hurts!” I whimper.

“Count it,” he commands. “Then ask for the next one.”

I close my eyes and shake my head, but the words are already leaving my lips.

“One,” I say. “Can I have the next one?”

The leather whistles again and lands right below the stinging spot where the first lashed my skin. I groan, clutch the bedspread in my hands, and process the pain.

“Two,” I whimper, squeezing my eyes tighter. “C-can I have the next one?”

The belt comes for my bare ass the third time and I take it with a louder groan. As soon as I count it, I feel the traitorous arousal between my legs. My body is reacting to this, just like it reacted when I was over his knee. It hurts—but it still turns me on.

“Four!” I squeal when the next one catches me by surprise. I pause for a moment to let the pain settle before I ask for the next one.

The next eruption of pain brings me to the halfway mark. Ten isn’t as bad as I feared. I can take this. Boyd clearly isn’t putting much strength into the swings as he could. If he did that, I’d probably hit the wall.

The belt lands again and again while I keep count and ask for the next one. Tears trickle down my cheeks through the last few, but I make it.

“Ten!” I cry out.

“You took your punishment well,” Boyd says, dropping the belt and rubbing my ass. “Now stay right where you are because I’ve got something else for you, too.”

I hear Boyd’s zipper and don’t have to ask what else he has planned. I’m so wet from the belt spanking that he’s inside me in an instant and I let out a sigh.

I’ve missed this. Feeling this fullness. Feeling his rough hands on my hips while he claims me. His cock makes me forget all about the Mafia Prince Killer. The only thing I can focus on is the pleasure that rushes from my core until I get a stinging slap on my ass.

“Don’t go through my text messages, Sarah.

I mean that,” he orders, slamming his cock deep into my depths and throbbing against my g-spot.

“I forgive you and I gave you a light punishment for it because I know how damn curious you are. Do it again and I won’t be so gentle.

Now thank me for not wearing your naughty ass out and beg me to fuck your tight little pussy until you scream. ”

“Oh, sweet mercy,” I whimper, already feeling the pressure build. “Thank you for not wearing my naughty ass out. Please fuck my tight little pussy until I scream!”

“Good girl,” he praises, tightening his grip on my hips and speeding up his thrusts. “I bet I can make you scream Big Boyd so loud the entire fucking city hears you.”

I have no reason to doubt him, especially when his thick, hard cock is pounding into me.

I whimper, groan, and take it until I’m panting.

The pressure is so tight, it feels like I’m going to erupt at any second.

Boyd has the perfect angle to hit my g-spot.

The perfect amount of beautiful friction to make it feel incredible.

And it’s hard and fast, which I’m starting to like.

“Do I have a permission to come?” I gasp, my body trembling as the pleasure shoots through me.

“Since you asked,” he says. “You have my permission.”

“Thank you!” I squeal, muttering his name several times as the bliss radiates from my core while my walls spasm on his length.

“I want to hear you scream that,” he growls, slapping my ass hard enough to send me forward only to get yanked back onto his throbbing erection.

I do as I’m told because it’s the only thing I want to do. Scream his name. Beg for him to take me harder, faster, and not stop until I’m a crumbled mess of bliss and spent orgasms. A crumbled mess with Boyd’s seed inside me. But I have to earn that, and he’s far from done.

“You go through my text messages again, and not only will you get my belt, but you won’t come for a week,” he threatens. “You’ll get your mouth fucked every time I want you, but you’ll still go to bed wet and needy. Is that what you want, Sarah?”

“No!” I cry out. “No, please. I won’t do it again!”

That sounds so much worse than a spanking.

Way worse than his belt. To be deprived of this?

Deprived of him? I’d go mad. I’ve gotten used to the fullness.

Used to the pleasure. I don’t just crave it, I need it.

I’ll do anything to have it again, even if it means keeping my eyes away from things I shouldn’t see, no matter how curious I get.

The sting still radiates from my bottom where Boyd’s belt corrected my behavior.

I might have a welt or two tomorrow, where the belt landed several times.

I’ll wear them underneath my clothes with pride.

A lesson learned. Forgiveness earned. Is that how my life with Boyd will always be?

My core clenches hard, just thinking about it.

“Don’t stop!” I cry out.

“You’re going to make me come so fucking hard,” he groans, squeezing my hips as he forces another orgasm out of me.

The orgasms keep coming. I’m all his, for as long as he wants me. As long as he can stand to fuck me without filling me with his seed. Even that won’t stop him. It’ll just fuel his frenzy and make him want more.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck!” he roars, then I feel the first tremors of his release.

Boyd erupts inside me, which causes me to welcome his lust with another orgasm of my own. His hot, sticky release fills me and when he doesn’t slow down, it mixes with my arousal and runs down my inner thighs.

As expected, it does nothing to deter Boyd. He throbs into me until he’s drained, pauses for a couple of seconds, then the thrusts resume. He builds back up to a steady rhythm and his thickness goes deep inside me.

Except I feel the need for something else. Something I previously begged for and ache to feel again.

“Please fuck my ass,” I moan. “Please, I need it…”

“You’ve turned into quite the needy girl,” he rasps, his thrusts slowing. “Just the way you should be.”

Boyd pulls out of my pussy and lines his dick up with my bottom hole. I tense up as he pushes in, but I’m so turned on and craving it that I push back against him to force his cock deeper.

I’m going to get exactly what I begged for.