Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“You’re in my Wonderland. My rules,” I say with a raise of an eyebrow and a devilish grin. “I’ll count down from ten, and, Lyriope, if your ass isn’t bare and bent over before I get to zero, you won’t be sitting tomorrow.”
I make it to five with our gazes locked on each other before she even dares breathe. But at the count of four, she gives a cry, takes the two steps necessary to reach the table, seemingly unable to decide whether to look at it or at me. Finally, she turns to me, her eyes huge.
“Seriously? You are expecting to… really spank me? Come on, this is a joke, right?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
“Fine,” she says, crossing her arms against her chest. “But this isn’t what I had in mind when I suggested we have a little fun.”
“Dress up and ass out, over the table. Do it now,” I say and then recommence my count.
She barely makes it, but by the time I hit zero, her dress is bunched at her waist, and she’s thrown herself over the sturdy wooden table.
God, what a vision she makes. The black of her dress and the dimness of the room only seems to contribute to making her ass shine with the dance floor lights shimmering over her, her muscles clenched tightly. Her hair has strands falling down her back. I consider yanking them for good measure to show my dominance, but the belt weighs heavy in my hand and I’m anxious to play… my way.
Stepping up to her, I wrap an arm around her waist, tugging her back from where she’s attempting to become one with the table.
“Spread your feet apart and lift your ass up. Tits to the table, arms in front of you, hands gripping the edge.”
“You don’t need to do this,” she says, her voice trembling. “This is just… I can’t believe you’re doing this. I think you are taking the whole unbirthday theme a bit too far.”
“You’re wrong. This is part of the unbirthday fun.”
She stares at me in disbelief. Finally, with a sigh, she turns her head away, pressing her forehead against her hands, accepting the fact that she and she alone has brought us to this position. She tempted the beast, and I’m simply following my animalistic instinct. You can’t control the beast and Lyriope knows this.
“Hands gripping the far edge,” I remind her. “And keep them there. Believe me, you don’t want to discover what a belt across a palm feels like.”
At least she’s smart. Once my mind is set on something, there is no changing it. Whether she can see it in my expression or chiseled into my jawline, she stops pleading and trying to talk her way out of the inevitable. She reaches her arms out, curling her fingers around the table’s edge. The distance requires her to stretch, the position causing her bottom to lift.
“Keep your ass cheeks loose. I’m going to give you six strokes to begin. Can you tell me how many I should give you?”
When she doesn’t immediately answer, I snap the belt against my thigh. She startles but answers. “Hell if I know!”
“You asked for it. You saw that woman being flogged and hungered for the bite of pain. I saw it in your eyes. You wanted a Dom tonight? Well, you’re about to fully get one. Understand?”
She stiffens, and finally manages a nod, but I’m not having that.
“I can’t hear you.”
“Yes,” she says.
“Lyriope…”
“What do you want me to say?” she asks, looking over her shoulder at me with mischief in her eyes.
“I expect to hear ‘sir.’”
“What? Are you kidding me?”
I give a look I know I’ve mastered. A look that announces I’m a man to take seriously even when I have a smile on my face—especially then. If I smile… run. I know I have a look that would have any one of my enemies cowering. Even a stubborn woman who doesn’t know better or understand the true extent of how much she should fear me.
“Yes, sir,” she finally says as if she has just swallowed a lemon. I don’t know what it is about addressing me respectfully that is so hard for her, but she answered. For now, that’s enough.
“All right,” I say, stepping to the side. “Let each of these remind you that you better be careful of what you wish for.”
Lecture over, I swing my arm back and bring the belt down against the very center of her ass. She screeches, releasing the table, standing, and dancing from foot to foot, her hands furiously rubbing her ass.
“Position,” I say.
“It fucking hurts!”
“Yes, and keep cussing and I’ll start over. Get up again, release the table, rub your ass, and I’ll start over.”
“You’re enjoying this!” she accuses.
“I am,” I admit, running the leather through my hand. “Now, back over and stick your ass out or—”