Exposed Exposed (Dom Nation #1) - E. Davies Page 0,80

I grabbed for the elastic of his waistband and hauled his underwear down. Slate kicked the fabric aside himself, then spread his legs. The muscles in his back rippled, his spine straightening and then arching. In front of him, his erect manhood pointed up toward his stomach, bobbing heavily up and down with every move.

“Better,” I decided and pulled back my hand, delivering a single swat to the left side of his precious, spankable bottom.

Slate’s cry was loud and sharp, ripped from him. “Ahhh!” He looked startled, his eyes flying open as his head snapped back. “Jesus!”

I smiled, dancing my fingertips over the spot. “Different without clothes in the way, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Slate whimpered. “Good, though. Very good.”

“I don’t care if you find it good,” I told him, letting harshness bleed into my voice again. I pulled back my hand for a harder slap on the other cheek, emphasizing the last word.

“Oh! Fuck!” Slate’s ass contracted under my hand as red blossomed across the pale skin. His whole body shuddered.

There would be other chances to fall into a rhythm, spanking him over my knee, pushing my fingers into him, pumping hard before pulling out to spank him again. Torturing him sweetly until he squirmed and gasped and finally came, his body on fire and cries falling from his lips.

Tonight, though, I just wanted him to get a taste of the punishments that lay ahead of him. I was satisfied with how he reacted. He was very spankable—responsive to me and obedient, yet not whining. Nor did he hide his reactions or play tough.

Perfect.

“Stand up,” I told him, my tongue loosened by the fire running through me. I was in my element now, fully dressed and powerful as I stood behind the shivering, naked boy. I’d never felt stronger, and my shaft swelled in answer. “Face me.”

Slate gulped, his eyes wide and hazy. He swayed, standing and staring at me. His hands folded in front of his boner like he was shy all of a sudden, his gaze sliding downward. “Yes, Daddy?” His voice was barely a whisper, his toes curling into the floor.

Fuck, he was adorable. His very energy was so precious that I wanted to absorb it into mine—wrap myself around him and be his shield, yet turn my claws on him to draw out the painful release he so desperately wanted, yet feared right now.

“Look at you,” I taunted, folding my hands behind my back and tilting my chin up. It was a power stance, the authority radiating from me like a fucking sun. Slate reacted like any natural sub, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor. Trembling. Waiting.

Good. Very good.

“Y-Yes?” Slate whispered.

I grinned. To the untrained ear, he wanted to hear that he was beautiful, but I knew better. “Hard already. Trying to hide it. What a desperate little slut you are.”

Slate trembled, but he couldn’t quite hide the twitch of his cock behind his palms without touching it—and he knew that was forbidden. “N-No—”

“Hands to your sides,” I ordered, cutting him off.

Slate whimpered softly, hesitating as heat crept down his neck and up his cheeks. His face flaming red, he finally unfolded his hands and let his hands fall, his fingertips twitching nervously through the air. His breathing came in short, shallow bursts.

“See?” I whispered. God, I wished I had a crop or a whip in my hand. Something to touch his throbbing erection, draw along the length…

Wait. I was in the kitchen. Perfect.

My eyes roved the countertop, and then I found it—the dark wooden spatula. I reached for it, and his eyes darted up. Then he gasped, the sound harsh in the kitchen.

“Did I say you can look up?” Quick as lightning, I slapped his thigh with the implement, and I wasn’t gentle. The red mark appeared instantly, and his cry rang across the walls of the kitchen.

He clutched at the counter to stay upright, but his cock pulsed in front of my eyes, desperately twitching in midair. “N-No, sir,” Slate whimpered, fixing his gaze on his own aching dick again.

I grinned, drawing the tip of the spatula along his balls, up the center of his shaft toward the tip. “Look at this,” I hissed, pausing to ever so gently touch the corner of the tip of the spatula against the leaking slit, picking up his precum. “Do you think you can hide it? I know how much you’re enjoying this. Pretending not to want it. What a horny little slut.” My lip curled