Just A Woman (Marina: Part Two: Naughty Nookie Series) by Serena Akeroyd Page B

Molten.  My clit wants attention.  It’s on the brink of
demanding it, because each time he spanks, I want to beg him to touch me. 
Only by digging my teeth down into my bottom lip between spanks, am I not
saying a word.  It’s a point of pride.  He might want me to beg, but
I won’t.  Not yet, at any rate, I concede with a roll of my eyes at my own
failings.
    But even as I
acknowledge my own arousal, tears start to sting my eyes.  I flutter them
away, refusing to cry, but the need to sob out my confusion and arousal is even
harder than remaining in place.  In a way, it’s like denying an
orgasm.  I need the release, a release of the emotional kind.
    “Ten!” I squeal
and hiss.  Every single time, his hand returns to smooth over the spanked
flesh of my butt, adding to the hypersensitivity in a way that has every tiny
hair on my body standing to attention. 
    Every part of me
relaxes into the armrest for a second, knowing the next hit won’t be for a
little while longer. 
    The tension
running around my muscles makes me feel like I’ve been on a ten mile run and
considering I’m breathing like I’ve been doing just that, I can honestly say,
I’m tired.  As well as horny.
    Dammit.
    Knowing that soon
he’ll spank me, I tense a little, preparing myself for the next one and then he
shocks me.  The flat of his hand moves down over the apple of my butt and
slides over the crack.  Down, down until his fingers curl inward and touch
wet, hot flesh.
    A cry escapes
me.  No amount of lip biting can stop it.  I sag once more into the
armrest, my sweaty forehead rubbing against the cotton fabric.  His
fingers dip inside my cunt, spreading the entrance to my body before sliding
down to rub my clit.  Another cry and my hips start to wiggle.  The
instant they do, he pulls away.
    “No!” I shout,
unable to help myself.
    “No?” he
questions, his voice dangerously low and the instant I hear it, register the
tone, it’s like a bucket of cold water has been thrown over me.
    “No, Nate. 
Please.  Please, keep on touching me.”
    “Feel good, does
it?” he asks.
    “Yes, Nate.”
    Out of nowhere,
the next spank comes.  I forget to shriek out the number in shock at the
hit.  “I decide when and if you can have pleasure.  And you’re turned
on, Marina.  You can’t hide it.  This...” He runs his hand over the
sore flesh of my butt.  “...you like it.  You need it and that’s your
lesson for today.  As is the fact if you forget to count a spank, it’s
null and void.”
    Shit.  Not
only is the lower half of my body on fire from need, it’s also stinging and I
just added to the number.
    “Eleven,” I squeak
as his hand returns bringing more discomfort than ever with the force.  I
start to wriggle on his lap, I can’t help it.  The ache has returned,
intensifying with the admission of my arousal to Nate. 
    He grips a hold of
my hip and says, “Keep still.  Or I’ll hurt you more than I mean to.”
    Ha!  More
than he means to?  That means this isn’t Nate hitting at his full
potential?  Good God!
    “Twelve!” I
shriek.
    “Thirteen,” I
stutter, pressing my forehead into the armrest. 
    The strength
behind each spank is astonishing.  This is no faint tap.  A slight
smack or pat on the behind.  He’s hitting me, literally hitting me with
the flat of his hand.  And it fucking hurts, especially when he hits the
same goddamn place over and over.
    More tears arrive,
but I force them away, knowing this is the last one and I welcome it like a
starving man welcomes a feast.  
    “Fourteen.” 
    Relief swims
through me, knowing it’s over for today is bliss in itself.  I sag down
into his lap and once again, go through the discomfort of his fingers prodding
sore flesh with their delicate butterfly-brush over the curve of my behind.
    “Good girl,
Marina.  Get back on your knees.”
    His direction is
gentle and he helps me stand even though I know it must tug and pull at his
wounds.