you that you had a lot to learn. And I think this lesson is long overdue.” While still watching me, he raises his arm ever so slightly and gives a firm flick of the wrist, causing the belt in his hand to snap against itself and make a loud cracking sound. I resist the urge to flinch.
“Fine.” I cross my arms and stand my ground but I can feel my stomach flip-flopping.
“Still feeling bold?” He unbuttons his pants and lets them fall to the floor before kicking them away. He’s now clad only in boxer-briefs, allowing me to clearly see his muscular physique, tensed and ready for action.
Without another word, he steps forward swiftly, bends down slightly, and slings me over his shoulder.
“What the fuck?” I squeal, surprised by the fast action.
He doesn’t answer and simply carries me upstairs, his steps heavy. Once in the master bedroom, he puts me down.
“Go stand under that painting. Put your hands against the wall. Back to me.” He gestures towards one side of the room. The vast expanse of wall here has just a single, small painting in the middle. It’s nothing noteworthy, just an abstract image of some geometric shapes and lines.
I’m still seething but I do as he says, placing my hands against the wall. The painting is just a bit above eye level.
“Good. Spread your legs.” He nudges my feet apart with his foot, so I’m standing splayed, exposed to him. “Now I don’t want you to take your hands off that wall. No matter what. Okay?”
“Okay,” I mutter.
He runs a hand over my head and down along my back, sending a chill down my spine. At my butt, he stops briefly, caressing me gently. Suddenly, he pulls his hand back and slaps me sharply with his palm.
I bite my lip and resist the urge to shout out. I can’t stop my body from reacting though, and my feet jump slightly.
“I said don’t move.” His voice is like ice. He moves his hand between my legs. I realize with surprise that I’m wet as he rubs his fingers over me, slipping one inside. “You really do enjoy a spanking, don’t you?”
Annoyed, I maintain my silence.
SMACK! He lets another firm slap loose on my ass. I grit my teeth but manage to avoid jumping or making a noise.
“Not bad. So then we can try the belt.”
I instinctively tense my entire body.
“Do you know how many times I had to ask you to leave the room tonight before calling Marco to haul you out?” His voice is calm but I can hear the edge in it.
I shake my head.
“Answer me.”
“No.”
“I had to ask you three times. So I think it’s fair that you get three strokes,” he goes on calmly.
I shrug my shoulders, still defiant. I have the scent of leather in my nose. I remember the first night, when he had me bite on this same belt. I couldn’t have imagine then…what was still to come.
“Okay then.” He again runs his hand through my hair, gently touching the side of my face, before continuing down my back. He gives my ass a brief squeeze. And then he lifts his other hand. From the corner of my eye, I realize he’s folded the belt in half, giving him more control over it. The buckled part is in his hand and the small leather loop where the belt has been folded doesn’t look like it’s going to hurt that badly. But then…
CRACK! The noise the leather makes as it hits my skin is like a gunshot. The pain is something I’ve never experienced before. It’s like a blast of fire across my skin, a surge of heat followed by an intense burning that lingers.
All thoughts of staying still and quiet leave my mind as I yelp and jump away from the wall, bent over in pain. Then, realizing what I’ve done, I look at David in fear. But he’s not paying any attention to me. I watch, confused, as he throws the belt down in irritation. He goes to the painting hanging on the wall and lifts it down. Behind the small canvas, there’s a tiny door with a keypad. A safe, I realize with a start.
He punches in a code and the door opens. I forget the pain searing across my backside for a moment as I watch, wondering what’s inside. Cash? Passports? Drugs?
No. He pulls out a pair of handcuffs and then shuts the safe again. He secures the cuffs to