Page 8

CHAPTER 8

L ea

I’m not going to die a horrible death.

I’m not going to be sold as some kind of slave—some kind of sex slave.

But I’m going to get a spanking. And it’s going to hurt.

Massimo shuffles on the couch until he’s in the middle and unbuttons his right sleeve, rolling it to his elbow and revealing more of his ink than I saw on the boat. He’s getting ready to punish me. Getting ready to put me over his knee and spank my bare bottom like I’m a naughty little girl. The worst part is that I know I deserve it. What I did tonight was stupid. Foolish. I played a dangerous game, and there are consequences for losing.

“Are you ready, bambina ?” he asks gently. Too gently, considering what is about to happen.

“Yes, sir,” I whisper. I don’t know why I’m calling him sir . It slipped out once and now it’s just part of my vocabulary.

“Then lie across my lap,” he says firmly, patting his thigh.

I down what is left of my wine for courage, but my knees still wobble when I stand up. I glance at the lap waiting for me and feel a tremor of something else. Arousal? Fearful arousal? This is definitely not the time for that. I’ve never fantasized about being put over someone’s knee for a spanking. But the moisture is there, and I feel it as I shuffle toward Massimo. I take a deep breath before leaning forward. He takes my arm and guides me the rest of the way until I’m stretched across his thick, muscular thighs. They’re almost like steel beneath my trembling frame.

“You’re doing good, bambina ,” Massimo says, his voice still gentle. “I know you’re scared, but just try to relax. It’ll go a lot smoother if you do.”

I’m not sure which one of us it will be smoother for. I have no doubt he could hold me down and punish me if he wanted. I’d be powerless to stop him. I almost wish he’d done that. I feel like I should be kicking and screaming, instead of submitting to my punishment. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. I squirm on his lap and feel something hard press against my belly.

“Oh, god,” I whimper. “Is that…”

“I never said I wasn’t going to enjoy it, Lea,” he chuckles.

More arousal heats my core. I shudder and try to mentally force it to go away, but it just keeps getting hotter. It’s fearful and shameful arousal, blending into something that makes me squirm. The more I squirm, the more I feel him . He puts a hand above my hip and squeezes, pulling me closer until I’m pressed against his erection. Then I feel his hand on the back of my thigh. It goes lower, tracing and making me tingle until his fingers brush against my bare skin. Goosebumps rise in response.

His fingers tighten around the fabric of my dress and he starts pulling it up. Slowly. Like he’s savoring every inch of bare skin he exposes, and I feel the reaction against my belly as he does. I gasp and struggle as his fingers continue to graze skin no man has ever touched before. The back of my thighs. A lingering trace along the sensitive skin between them. Then the cool air caresses my lower cheeks as my panties are exposed. He grips my dress with the hand holding my hip and bunches it there, which leaves my panties and everything below them completely exposed to his gaze.

“Please don’t pull my panties down,” I whimper, feeling the moisture that dampens them as I squirm. “I’ll accept my punishment, but please don’t pull them down.”

“What makes you think I would even consider that request, bambina ?” he questions, his fingers trailing along the curve of my ass right below my panties. “Why would I deprive myself of such a beautiful sight, hmm?”

“B-because it’s embarrassing!” I whine.

“I’m not embarrassed,” he chuckles.

“Embarrassing for me!” I whimper. “Please, Massimo…”

“A little embarrassment can be a good thing,” he says, moving his hand to the waistband of my panties and wrapping it around his fingers, which pulls them tight against my skin. I shudder and shake my head, but it doesn’t stop him. He abruptly yanks them to my knees, causing me to gasp and stiffen on his lap. “Embarrassment will linger long after the sting of the spanking fades.”

I groan and squirm. I can feel his piercing gaze on my skin. He can see everything now. I squeeze my legs shut, praying he doesn’t notice my arousal, but I can tell from the way his cock throbs against my stomach that he’s already seen it. My face is so hot it’s burning. My core is tight and engulfed in flames.

“If you hadn’t been such a naughty bambina , you could be on your back right now, getting your wet pussy devoured,” he growls, tracing my inner thigh where a trickle of wetness has formed a drop. “I’d much rather taste you than punish you.”

“No, don’t say that,” I whine, shaking my head.

“Why? Does it embarrass you to know that a man wants to taste you?” he questions, his fingers teasing my inner thighs so much I’m unable to stop myself from getting wetter—unable to stop my body from squirming against his thick erection.

“Y-yes,” I confirm with a groan.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that tonight, bambina ,” he assures me. “The only thing you’re getting is a spanking.”

He pulls his hand away and before I realize what is happening, it comes down hard on my bare ass. I hear the sound a split second before I feel the sting radiate from the spot he spanked. Then his hand lands again, this time on the opposite cheek. I can feel the pinkness, like the shape of his hand is branded on my bottom. The third stinging slap lands across the first one, making it sting even more.

“Ow!” I whimper.

His hand keeps coming. One slap after another, and each one makes my butt sting. I’m a fully grown woman getting spanked like a disobedient child. Like a naughty little girl that danced so close to the flames, I set myself on fire. I whimper, groan, and squirm as the sting amplifies into a burn that really does feel like fire. A fire he started on my ass, and every slap just stokes the flames higher. My legs involuntarily twitch. The fingernails on my right hand dig into the couch while my left grips his pants so tight I’m sure I’ll tear his chinos. But I can’t help it. This really hurts!

“P-please, Massimo!” I cry out, tears of pain replacing the ones I cried from fear and humiliation. “I’m sorry!”

“You’ve said that plenty of times tonight, bambina ,” he says, his hand not slowing down at all. “I believe you, but you’re still getting the spanking you deserve.”

“Ah! Ow! Ah!” I cry, the tears streaming in earnest with each painful slap.

My tears just seem to encourage him. The slaps come harder and faster. I’m humiliated. Sobbing like a baby. Yet the pulsations of arousal still linger between my legs, my clit throbbing in unison with the hard cock pressed against my belly. This shouldn’t turn me on. Pain shouldn’t turn me on. But I’ve never been wetter. Never been more aroused. Never craved— everything I’m craving right now.

A hard smack lands on my upper thigh, right where the curve of my ass meets my leg, and it burns so much I kick my feet. Then another and another, before he moves to the other thigh and leaves the same burning sensation there as well. But something else lingers below the sting. The way I feel the impact of his hand. The way it makes my body vibrate so much it teases my untouched walls. The way my squirming makes me grind against him. It’s too much. Too intense.

“Stop!” I cry out, my hips bucking against him.

“Oh, we’re not even close to being finished, bambina ,” he says firmly, his hand peppering my bare bottom with stinging slaps that make the fire burn hotter. “But if you admit you were a naughty little girl, and deserve this spanking, I might show some mercy if you mean it.”

His hard, callused hand forces a few more sobs out of my throat. Beg for mercy? That’s what he wants? I’ll do anything if it’ll make him stop. I don’t care how small or embarrassed I feel. I just want the spanking to be over.

“Please, Massimo! Mercy!” I wail, kicking my feet and squirming frantically against his erection. “I-I was a naughty little girl! I deserve this spanking! Please stop!”

“If you deserve it, why should I stop?” he growls, his hand smacking my thighs and bottom, making both of them burn.

“Because I’m sorry! Because I know I screwed up!” I cry, my body shaking with a mixture of pain and throbbing arousal. “Because I’ll never do it again!”

“Are you going to be a good girl for the rest of the week?” he asks, slapping dangerously close to my pussy. “Are you going to do everything I say, without questioning me?”

“Yes!” I howl miserably.

“I liked it better when you were saying yes, sir ,” he muses, smacking my sit spots so hard my body jerks with each one.

“Yes, sir! Yes, sir!” I squeal. “I’ll be a good girl!”

His hand comes down several more times, then he stops, and rubs the last burning spot he spanked. I whimper as my sobs turn into sniffles. My bottom feels like it’s still on fire, but his callused hand is somewhat soothing now. I tremble from the mixture of pain and arousal. I’m so turned on I could probably come if I rub myself against him now that the spanking is over. He’s still hard as a rock, and he throbs when he squeezes my ass enough for me to feel cool air wafting between my legs.

“Ah!” I protest, trying to squeeze my legs together as tightly as possible, but his grip keeps my pussy exposed.

“Don’t be embarrassed, bambina ,” he says. “Your reaction is normal. I’ll let you go in a moment. I just want a peek at what I’m going to be dreaming about tonight.”

A peek? At what he’s probably been staring at the entire time he’s been spanking me? I’m not sure which is redder: my butt or my face. Feeling his gaze just seems to make me wetter. I squirm, but it doesn’t make him release me. All it does is make me feel his thickness. Am I going to be dreaming about that ? My core trembles as I imagine it—his rough hands providing pleasure instead of pain. His hardness, stretching me for the first time. I whimper softly until his hand finally releases the grip on my thigh.

“Why don’t you go to your room and take some time to get yourself together?” He pats my reddened bottom dismissively. “Then you can come back, thank me properly for punishing you, and have another glass of wine.”

“Y-yes, sir,” I whisper, letting him help me up from his lap.

I stand in front of him, feeling small, vulnerable, and exposed. My dress cascades down my legs, covering some of my skin. I reach for my panties and tug them back around my hips, grimacing when they slide across my seared flesh. I sniffle, wipe my eyes, and shuffle toward my bedroom. I don’t let out a sigh of relief until the door is closed and locked.

“What is happening to me?” I question, feeling fresh tears spill down my saturated cheeks. “This reaction is normal? It doesn’t feel normal.”

I stagger to the mirror and stare at my reflection. My face is a mess. I’ve cried all my mascara off and my makeup is a disaster. Even my lipstick is smeared around my lips like a clown. No wonder Massimo sent me to clean myself up. I wouldn’t want to look at this either. I grab my purse and retreat into the bathroom that adjoins the bedroom. This would be easier if I had my bathroom bag, but what is in my purse will have to do.

Then I have to thank him.

Properly.

Whatever that means.