Page 22 of Punish Me, Daddy (Boston Kings #8)

S loane

I didn’t move.

I just stood there—completely naked, my ass still burning from the sting of his hand, my bottom hole sore and plugged, mouth dry, pulse pounding so loud I couldn’t even hear myself think.

He had gone still, maybe five feet away now, watching me with the calm of a man who had just rewritten the rules of my life and expected me to thank him for it.

I should have lunged at him, scratched his face, cursed him out, something . But I didn’t. I just kept standing there like a fool, like a girl who had wandered into the wrong room of the castle and found the dragon waiting.

My chest was rising and falling like I had just run a mile. My skin was prickling all over. I thought I might throw up or cry or explode or… I don’t know.

You’re going to be my bride.

The audacity of it. The way he said it like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t the single most insane thing anyone had ever said to me in my entire life. Like I was not a human woman with choices and a voice and rights . Like I was just a prize, a piece of property.

Like I was already his.

And worse?

My father agreed to it.

I felt the betrayal hit me like a blade between my ribs.

My own father. The man who always said no one would ever control me.

That no one would ever touch me unless I wanted it.

That I’d have choices, a future, freedom .

He had sold me off like I was some complicated political inconvenience that needed to be handed over to the one man insane enough to try to tame me.

Now here I was, standing in the middle of a skyscraper penthouse with the city sparkling behind me like a stage I never auditioned for, naked and utterly punished.

I balled my hands into fists at my sides.

I was not crying. I would not cry.

I was furious.

More than that, I was turned on, and I hated that more than anything else.

That was the worst part, the most humiliating, soul-crushing part of it all; he had touched me, and my body had liked it.

He had punished me and my pussy had dripped with arousal.

He had called me ‘baby girl’ and every inch of me had fucking listened .

I hated him for it.

I hated me for it.

Like a predator, he moved.

He closed the distance between us with the slow confidence of a man who knew exactly how far he could push me before I broke. Maybe that was what he was going to do now. Maybe that’s what this was.

My breath caught as he stepped in front of me, silent, unwavering. His blue eyes didn’t ask. They took.

Before I could open my mouth to tell him to go to hell—before I could claw at him, scream, shove him away, or really do anything at all—he kissed me.

Rough. Deep. With tongue and intention.

It wasn’t romantic.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was claiming .

His hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back just enough to let his mouth devour mine, and I gasped into it. Instinctively, I grabbed at his shirt, not sure if I was trying to pull him closer or push him away.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t stop.

His tongue slid against mine like he owned the right to be there, like he was staking a flag and daring me to rip it down. I wanted to. I wanted to burn it all to the ground, but my knees went weak.

My body leaned into his like it remembered what he did to me only a short while ago and wanted it all over again. My mouth opened under his, and God help me, I kissed him back.

Harder.

Hotter.

Like if I could just kiss him hard enough, I could take the power back.

But that was the joke, wasn’t it? I already gave it away.

Or maybe he just took it.

When he finally pulled back, I was breathing hard, lips wet, heart hammering.

He smiled, like he’d fucking won. It wasn’t smug and it wasn’t arrogant either.

Just a slow, quiet curve of his mouth that told me everything I needed to know.

I kissed him back, and I was standing here naked and wrecked. He owned me now, and we both knew it.

My pride screamed. My body hummed.

I barely got the chance to blink before his hand tangled in my hair again: firm, controlled, intentional . He tugged, not hard, just enough to remind me that I was going where he wanted me now.

“Come.”

It was not a request.

He turned and walked, taking me with him, barefoot and naked and burning all over, down the long, dark hallway of his penthouse.

And fuck , what a penthouse it was.

It was the entire top floor of the skyscraper, stretching like a glass-walled kingdom in the clouds. Black marble floors, industrial steel beams overhead. Everything in this place screamed power, the kind that didn’t need to announce itself.

He led me past walls of black glass that reflected our silhouettes: me, nude and blushing, him towering behind me, fully clothed, ruthless and relentless.

We passed an open-plan kitchen with slabs of matte stone counters, a living room sunken into the floor, massive steel-framed windows that made the skyline feel close enough to touch.

He didn’t stop there, though, not until we reached the farthest room. It jutted out from the rest of the penthouse like the bow of a ship, surrounded on three sides by floor-to-ceiling glass.

He opened the door and stepped aside, gently guiding me in. The walls were soft gray, the furniture minimalist. The bed was massive, low to the floor, draped in dark gray sheets and fur throws. The windows curved around the room in a way that made me feel like I was floating over the city.

But it was the bathroom that truly made me gasp.

Glass. All of it. From the shower wall to the steam-fogged divider to the damn floor, with inset lighting that made the white tub glow like it was carved from moonlight.

The bathtub sat in the corner, wrapped in glass, windows stretching above it.

If I stepped into it, I’d be naked and visible to the stars—completely exposed…

He walked me to it slowly, still holding me by the hair, and when we stopped in front of it, he let go.

I didn’t move.

I couldn’t.

He walked in front of me, his chest rising and falling, his hand dropping to his belt like it was nothing. I glanced down and saw that he was hard.

So hard.

“Go on,” he growled, voice deep, seductive, dark. “You’re going to ask Daddy for a bath now.”

I swallowed, straightening my spine.

“And if I don’t?” I asked quietly.

He leaned down, his lips just grazing the shell of my ear.

“Then Daddy will take out that plug and fuck that tight little hole until his cum drips from that defiant little ass.”

Fuck.

He reached out, running his fingertips down my side.

I could feel the heated flush creeping up my neck to my face. I knew he could feel the goosebumps rising beneath his touch. His fingers continued down the curve of my waist, lower, until they found the base of the plug, and he grasped it gently.

Pulled.

Pushed.

A slow, steady pump that left me gasping for air as pain and pleasure sizzled through my limbs like a lick of fire to kindling.

My breath hitched.

He chuckled softly and pressed a gentle kiss against my neck.

His other hand reached down, cupping the bare flesh between my thighs, his fingers sliding through the mess there, gathering it up to circle my clit. My legs very nearly collapsed beneath me, but he let go of the plug and wrapped his arm around my waist to steady me.

“Ask Daddy for your bath, baby girl, or you’re going to get a punishment ass fucking that is going to make you scream so loud they’ll hear it on the first floor.”

Damn .

Why did that turn me on so much?

Why did this whole thing make me wet and needy and desperate for his hands on my body again?

“Do you need your bottom hole punished, naughty girl? Do you need Daddy’s cock in your virgin ass?”

No.

Yes.

Fuck.

“Ask me, baby girl,” he growled. “Or it happens now.”

He grabbed the plug again and started roughly fucking my bottom with it, leaving me helpless to imagine his big cock sinking inside me, punishing me, possessing me.

“This is your last warning. I won’t be gentle, baby girl. I’ll fuck that sore red ass so hard there will be pretty little tears dripping down your beautiful face as you come for me, over and over again, until you can’t come for me anymore.”

His words made my body shudder.

“Please,” I whispered.

“Please what?”

“Please give me a bath… Daddy.”

He groaned, and his fingers were suddenly on my clit, circling, teasing, stroking, and I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped me.

“Good girl.”

His hands moved from between my legs, and he found the base of the plug once more. My knees trembled, and my stomach lurched. I didn’t know what he was going to do next and that made me nervous.

“Relax,” he whispered, his voice soothing and calm.

But it was impossible. It was so big, and my bottom hole was so sore. My heart pounded like a drum in my chest, my breath was shaky, and my entire body still hummed from the orgasms he forced out of me earlier.

He gave the plug a tug, and I hissed, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls. His ensuing laugh was low, rough, and wicked.

“You’re a very naughty little girl, aren’t you? Your poor little bottom hole is so sore and yet you’re still so greedy. Maybe you want a punishment fucking, hmm?”

“No, please, Dadddddyyyy ,” I whimpered.

“Maybe you’d like me to keep fucking this naughty little hole with the plug,” he murmured, pumping the toy into my asshole and driving me out of my fucking mind.

His free hand wound around my throat, fingers pressing lightly against the side, and a shudder rippled through me.

“Don’t worry, little girl. Daddy will decide for you. Now, be a good girl and spread your legs for me.”

My pulse hammered and I swore it must have been loud enough to echo throughout the room.

But I obeyed.

“Wider,” he commanded, his voice like gravel.

I spread my legs and moaned as the plug was roughly fucked in and out of my ass, and I couldn’t help the way my hips rocked back, meeting his every thrust.

“Does that hurt, little girl?”

I nodded.