Page 7

S arah

From having a really good dream about Boyd to waking up to the sight of him staring at me from the foot of my bed.

What a surprise!

Now that I’ve calmed down, had some coffee, and done my makeup, I’m ready to spend another day with him. Totally professional, of course. He promised to help fill in some gaps and take me around Las Vegas. Hopefully, there will be a few more stories to go with the tour.

I step out of the bathroom, take a puff of my vape, and notice Boyd has a scowl on his face. He looks up at me and the intensity in his stare makes me tremble a little. Why? I’m not sure. It just feels like I’m in trouble for some reason.

“Is there a problem with my notes?” I ask nervously.

“I said no names, didn’t I?” he snaps, closing my notebook.

“You did,” I confirm. “And I didn’t use any! I was very careful!”

“You call Mr. L and Mr. P being very careful?” he questions. “Like nobody will know who that is if they know anything about the groups that operate in Las Vegas? Were you planning to refer to them like that on your podcast?”

“Well, yeah,” I admit. “But not everyone. I was going to be extremely vague!”

“You were late. You made me worry. You didn’t follow my fucking instructions,” he growls. “That’s three strikes already today, little girl, and you haven’t even finished your damn coffee yet.”

Three strikes? That doesn’t sound good. I want to argue that I’m not a little girl, but I kind of feel like one right now. A bad little girl in trouble. I twist my toes against the carpet apprehensively.

“I’m sorry, Boyd,” I sigh, looking down. “I thought the abbreviations were good enough. I can just use initials. No Mr. or Ms.”

“It’s still not good enough,” he says, shaking his head.

“No names. No initials. Nothing. Vague stories are fine, but you can’t link anyone to the stuff you talk about.

This is dangerous, Sarah. I don’t like the idea to begin with, but you cashed in your personal favor for this.

I’m trying to make sure you don’t get killed over it. ”

The weight of it begins to feel heavy on my shoulders. I know I’m playing with fire, but I don’t know what else to do. This is my chance to save my podcast and turn things around. But I don’t want to die over it. Some of the guys at Rafferty’s might not have the same boundaries as Boyd.

“Okay, I messed up,” I admit. “I’ll redo my notes. I’ll be more careful. No names. No initials. I’ll just be extremely vague—so vague nobody knows who it is.”

“Better,” he says, then he rips out of the first page of my notes, sparks his lighter, and starts burning the paper.

I swallow hard as I watch it go up in smoke.

“But you already got three strikes today, so after I finish burning everything you’ve written down so far, I’m going to give you a choice that will determine whether or not you get to write anything else down. ”

A tremble shoots through my body. A choice? I’m not sure I like the sound of that. Boyd’s scaring me again.

“What kind of choice?” I ask apprehensively, taking a nervous hit from my vape.

“First option is you forget all about this trip to Las Vegas, your personal favor, and getting content from the Morandi family for your podcast,” he says, ripping out my next page of notes and igniting it.

I’m glad I got a room you’re allowed to smoke in because I wanted to be able to vape. The smoke detector would already be going off if I hadn’t.

“And the other option?” I ask, feeling another tremble.

“Second option is you go over my knee for being late, making me worry, and not following my directions,” he replies. “Then we try again—with closer supervision.”

Another tremble, but this one makes my core clench. My thoughts immediately go back to my dirty fantasy. The one I had right before I fell asleep. But this is no fantasy. He’s talking about a spanking. A real one. And I have no doubt in my mind that it will hurt.

My throat gets dry. I swallow hard again, trying to ease it with some saliva.

“You’re serious?” I ask, even though the look on his face already says it. “You’re going to spank me?”

“If that’s what you choose,” he says, shrugging one shoulder. “I’d recommend you get in your car, drive home, and forget all about this nonsense. You clearly aren’t cut out for it if you can’t even follow basic instructions.”

That really would be the smart thing to do. I don’t want a spanking. Especially from a giant of a man with big— really big—hands. I’d be completely at his mercy. If I let him bend me over his knee, I won’t be going anywhere until he’s finished.

But I’m too stubborn to do the smart thing.

I messed up. I treated this too much like a game and Boyd isn’t playing around.

I should have been more careful. Now I have to face the consequences.

Otherwise, I’m leaving with nothing except the money I won in the casino, and that isn’t enough. I need content.

“I’ll take the spanking,” I whisper, putting my vape down. “I’m sorry for not being more careful.”

Boyd nods, peels off his suit jacket, and puts it on the bed beside him. His gaze meets mine and he starts rolling up his sleeve, revealing some ink that wasn’t visible before. I nervously shuffle toward him, my heart thundering in my chest.

“I’ve never been spanked before,” I admit, feeling smaller than ever in front of the giant sitting on the bed.

“Doesn’t matter,” he growls. “You chose this. Unbutton your shorts.”

I look down at my shorts and my eyes get wide. “Why?” I whisper.

“Because they’re coming down,” he answers. “So are your panties. Three strikes. That means you’re getting your bare ass spanked.”

My face pales and I shake my head. I’ve never been exposed like that. Never taken my clothes off in front of a man.

“Please, no,” I whimper. “I’ve never done anything like that. With anyone.”

“We’re not having sex, Sarah,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes. “I’m damn sure going to enjoy making you squirm on my lap while I spank your naughty little ass, but this is punishment. Nothing more.”

My core clenches again. Punishment. Punishment I deserve. I never thought I’d admit something like that, even to myself, but I can’t deny it. I earned all three of my strikes today.

“Please,” I whimper again, my breath hitching in my throat. A single tear rolls down my cheek. “Isn’t there another way? I don’t want to go home, but…”

“No,” he answers. “And it’s too early for tears. You’ll have a reason to cry soon enough.”

A second tear streams down my face, this time from my other eye.

My fingers nervously move to the front of my shorts. They tremble as I fumble with the button, but it eventually pops free. My terrified breathing pushes my shorts open even more, forcing the zipper down a couple of notches, and exposing the black panties I’m wearing underneath.

I was imagining myself wearing these shorts last night. Catching Boyd’s eye. Making him see me as more than some little girl. But now they’re coming down. And so are my panties.

“Ready?” Boyd asks, his thick fingers wrapping around my slender arm and pulling me over his lap. His thighs feel like steel underneath me.

“No,” I whimper.

“Right,” he says, his fingers digging into the waistband of my shorts. “These have to come down before you’re ready.”

I gasp when my shorts get tugged down to my knees.

Boyd’s fingers graze the back of my thighs as he drags his hand back to my panties.

I close my eyes tight and hold my breath as they get bunched around my knees.

I squeeze my legs together as tight as they will go, but then I notice something else—I’m getting wet .

“Now you’re ready,” Boyd says, adjusting me on his lap until I feel his hardness. I’m not the only one who’s aroused. He said he was going to enjoy making me squirm. I didn’t realize it was going to enjoy it this much. “Right?”

Boyd places his heavy, callused hand on my bare skin. My eyes open and I shudder.

“Yes, sir,” I whisper, doing my best not to move. “I’m ready.”

Ready for the pain? Ready to get my ass spanked like a bad little girl? I’m not ready for either of those things, but this is the only way to stay in Las Vegas and get the content I need for my podcast.

I gasp when Boyd pulls his hand away, then I get the first stinging slap on my exposed skin.

His hand is so big it practically covers my entire bottom.

Another slap lands. Then another. I grit my teeth and try to endure it, feeling the sting more pronounced on my left or right cheek, depending on where he targets, but after a few more, the entire surface of my ass stings.

“Ow!” I cry out, tears welling up in my eyes.

“Do you know what kind of horrible things were going through my head while I waited for you downstairs?” he scolds, his hand not slowing down. “Every fucking minute, Sarah. For almost an hour!”

“I’m sorry!” I howl, kicking my feet in response to the pain. “I shouldn’t have made you wait! I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“How hard is it to set a fucking alarm?” he asks, slapping the back of my thighs before spanking my ass several times. “How hard is to follow basic instructions?”

“It was a mistake, Boyd!” I squeal, the stinging sensation starting to burn.

“Mistakes get people killed!” he says angrily, punishing me with stinging slaps while he scolds me. “Even little mistakes! Being late may not do that, and making me sick with worry certainly won’t, but those notes damn sure could!”

“Ow, ow, ow! I’m sorry!” I wail, squirming against his hardness.

Arousal trickles down my thigh as the spanking continues. Why is my body betraying me like this? This spanking fucking hurts. I’m not enjoying it. Am I?

“I have to do more than show you around Las Vegas and tell you stories. I have to keep you safe, and I do my job well,” Boyd lectures while he peppers my ass with hard smacks that echo as loud as my cries.

“I have to make sure you don’t say something on your fucking podcast that gets both of us in trouble! ”

“I understand!” I cry, blinking away the tears and choking on my next breath. “I understand, Boyd! Please stop!”

But even as I plead for mercy that doesn’t come, another drop of traitorous arousal runs down my inner thigh. It trickles until it soaks into his pants where I’m frantically squirming against his hard cock.

My cries turn into sobs. Boyd’s heavy hand continues to punish me while regret streams down my hot cheeks.

It feels like my ass is on fire. Just when it feels like I might combust from the heat, his hand slows, delivers a few stinging slaps to my thighs, two more on my ass, and finally comes to a rest.

“Ow, ow, it hurts,” I sob, gasping for air now that I can finally breathe.

“I know,” he says, helping me up from his lap and holding onto me until I’m steady on my feet. “Go clean yourself up and then we’ll work on your notes.”

And just like that, it’s over. Back to business. I swallow a couple of sobs and look down at his pants. I can see the wetness. I’m not sure if he notices or not. I certainly won’t be the one to point it out.

Once my legs stop wobbling enough for me to walk, I hurry to the bathroom and close the door. I rest my palms against the sink and have a good old-fashioned crying fit. Just like I used to do when I really was a little girl.

It takes me a while to get myself together. I reach for my panties and whimper as I pull them over my well-spanked bottom. My shorts are too tight. I kick them off, look through the clothes in the bathroom, and grab my baggiest pair of jeans.

After I’m dressed, I wash my face, clean up, and put more makeup on. My eyes are red-rimmed now, which hides some of the puffiness underneath them. I look like I’ve spent more time crying than worrying about a good night’s sleep.

I take a deep breath, then step out of the bathroom. Boyd is still sitting on the other bed and my notebook is on his lap. It’s covering the spot where my arousal seeped into his pants. I can’t tell if he’s still hard, but it doesn’t matter.

It was punishment, not foreplay.