I feel tiny enough to blow away in the hurricane that he is. My chest tightens and my mind goes blank.
I still wasn’t sure if butt whipped meant actually whipping my butt, or he was using the term metaphorically. There’s no way he could actually spank me, right? Talk about the biggest HR nightmare in history. I’d walk out of this rich in cash, but maybe what I really wanted to be rich in was this experience he was promising.
“When you were a child, were you a good girl or a bad girl?”
“A good girl,” I say shyly.
“And did you get spanked?”
“No, sir.”
“And why is that?”
“Because good girls don’t get spanked.”
“That’s right. Everyone likes a good girl. But bad girls? Well, bad girls need reminding why they need to be good. Isn’t that right?”
“I. I’m not sure,” the words escape my lips so softly they are barely audible. His logic is sound so I can’t say no, but I’m not really going to agree with him.
“The correct answer is ‘yes, sir,’” he says, leaning even closer to me, the heat from his breath somehow turning up the temperature on my already red hot skin.
I can’t speak.
Mr. Steele rises out of his seat, the frame creaking as all that is now in his chair is the deep horseshoe indent from where his massive body had been sitting.
He moves in behind me, not saying a word, not touching me, and it makes me even hotter, both in temperature and in desire.
My eyes darted every which way as I try to latch onto something, anything, that can help me understand my feelings right now.
“Bend over,” he commands, the order rolling off his lips which are now just a hairsbreadth behind my ear.
Before I can even move he adds, “And spread your legs.”
Oh. My. God.
I can sense his body backing away, giving me room so that when I bend my ass doesn't make contact with his groin.
My palms find the top of his desk and then I hear the unmistakable sound of a belt buckle unclasping followed by the whoosh of leather through loops.
I turn just as he’s finished folding the belt in half, yanking it tight. The snapping sound it makes causes me to flinch and blink at the same time.
“Wider,” he says, the outside of his heel touching the inside of mine.
I assume the position, bending my body more and sticking my ass up in the air.
“Take your hands off the top of the desk and grab the edge real tight, unless you want a busted lip. I don’t want you face-planting into hundred-year-old hardened oak.”
I do as I’m told, facing forward and bracing myself for his hand. I’ve never done anything with a boy before, ever, and here I am my ass in the air ready to be spanked for my transgressions by a man, and one helluva real one at that.
“Tell me you can’t handle it and it doesn’t go any further.”
“Would it really matter? Would it actually stop you?”
“Sassy to the very end. At least you’re consistent.” He pauses before continuing. “Three minutes late. Three spanks.”
I can smell my own arousal, feel the moisture dripping from me, as I swallow hard.
“You’re my naughty girl, aren’t you, little one?”
I whimper, but say nothing, just brace myself for the impending blow.
“Say it. Say you’re my naughty little girl…” His words trail off as if there’s something else on his mind. A way to punctuate the end of the sentence with one more word that gives it the full stop it needs. “Say it,” he grunts.
“Uh huh.”
“Words, not noises,” he counters, his words laced with a kind of verbal need I don’t recognize.
“I’m your naughty little girl…” I get caught on the end of the sentence myself, but before I can figure out what else it needs I hear his belt jingle as he throws it into his empty chair and then feel the full weight and authority of his palm as it connects with my cheeks.
My body lurches forward and I find that word I was looking for, almost as if he’s knocked it out of me.
“Daddy!”
Just as I’m expecting a second slap the room completely silences.
“What did you say?”
“I’m your naughty little girl,” I repeat, as my stomach does somersaults and the release of that one final word feels like the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders, even though the weight of a gigantic man has been transferred through torque and via his hand directly against my bottom.
“The last part. The final word. Say it again.”
“Daddy.”
“What did you call me?”
“Daddy,” I say, this time with more authority.
He growls, and I feel his other hand knife into my hair, yanking my head back just before his hand comes crashing down on my backside for a second time, causing what looks like a very expensive lamp to fall from his desk and crash to a million pieces.
I yelp, and he leans in, biting my earlobe and pressing his rock hard erection against the side of my hip as I catch myself actually sticking my ass out farther, demanding his touch, just as he obliges and the third spank finds my ass.
And with that he releases me entirely, and my body collapses onto his desk knowing one more would have sent me over the edge.
“Sir! Is everything all right in there?” I hear a female voice cry out accompanied at the same time by three quick knocks on his door.
“Don’t make a sound,” he says softly enough that only I can hear.
“Go away,” he bellows, and there are no further interruptions.
“I love how you squirm for me.”
I want to deny it, to spit right in his eye, but I can’t. We both know it would be a lie. I was thrusting my hips
