Personal Geography by Tamsen Parker Page B

you’re mine to do with as I please?”
    He’s stepped in close behind me, and the hardness of his erection presses through his jeans against the newly sensitized flesh of my ass. His hands wander to grip my hipbones, and he pulls me back against him hard. The minor impact forces the air from my chest and I’m left breathless, sucking in a lungful of air before I can say, “No, sir.”
    Hunter used to have at me whenever he felt like it, earned or no. At first, it piqued the part of me that demands fairness, but once I gave in, I enjoyed it and could appreciate the logic. I don’t require justification anymore, an excuse to be punished. Punish me for being alive; for being in front of you; for knowing that, at some point, I earned the abuse you’re going to ply my flesh with. But most of all, do it because it pleases you to color my skin, to hear my whimpers or cries. Know that when you sink your fingers inside me, my body will confirm I’ve enjoyed it, too.
    Cris grasps my arm above the elbow and steers me to the cross, pressing my abdomen into the wood. The cool surface is a mild shock that dulls as the wood absorbs my body heat, and I quickly sink back into that easy pliancy he inspires as he affixes cuffs to my wrists and ankles. When my arms have been stretched high and the cuffs attached to chains dangling from the frame, I wrap my fingers around the cool metal links, enjoying the heft of them. He urges my feet apart enough that it doesn’t feel natural, and I’m immediately conscious of how badly I’d like him inside of me.
    When I’m firmly tethered, he stands close, touching me everywhere except where I want him to the most. He finally cradles my breasts and squeezes but quickly withdraws. Though I shouldn’t, I tense and wait for the first blow to fall. But all I get is the gentle pressure of his hand on my lower back and a tut.
    “Relax, pet. You know better.”
    I do. Being trained out of that particular impulse had been unpleasant, and it’s a mark of how long it’s been since I’ve been with someone this good that I’ve sunk into such a bad habit. I take a deep breath, let loose, and that’s when he hits me, warming me up with a hand spanking. The intensity is automatically higher because of the bruises, and he works up slowly until he’s got my behind glowing hot with the impacts.
    There’s a pause and his hand is at my lower back again, warning me, and then, a second later, there’s the welcome feel of what I’d guess is a leather-covered wood paddle. He’s not reluctant now. No, he’s forced a sound and keeps it up until my ass is throbbing and hot, my whole bottom half swollen with want. He’s hit me hard and long enough to have me squirming, genuinely dreading the next strike, without drawing tears. Damn near perfect.
    When I think I can’t take it anymore, the paddle clatters to the floor, and Cris’s hands are cool on my heated behind, fingering the marks he’s made.
    “The way you color is textbook. I couldn’t dream a more perfect shade of red.”
    It’s not as if I can control it, but his compliment pleases me. It’s not the kind of praise I get every day. Then he grips my hips and thrusts hard against me, making me mewl. “That’s what you’ve done to me. That’s what’s going to be inside of you. Would you like that?”
    “Yes, sir.” More than anything.
    The sound of clothing being removed and dropped to the floor makes me smile. Soon he’s behind me, letting out the chains attached to my wrists and ankles to give them more play. When he’s satisfied, he drags my hips back a few paces until the bonds are taut again and angles them to give him access. I think he’s going to fuck me and I’m primed for him, but he drops to his knees and suddenly his tongue is lapping hot at the apex of my thighs, toying with and teasing my clit, his fingers digging into my hips.
    The sensations drag moans from me, and with each one, he pinches or tweaks one of the marks he’s