Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75317 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
I want to fight him. I need to fight someone.
So I don’t give in. I scream until I’m hoarse. I fight against him until my muscles ache. And he withstands it all. He holds me, over his lap, on the bed of that small room on a private jet forty thousand miles up in the air, and calmly, slowly, deliberately, gives me the spanking of my life.
There comes a point when anyone’s raging, screaming tears of agony or anger, that it all comes to a stop. The human body can only fight so long. Extreme emotion only lasts as long as the spark of a match, and I can’t take the pain anymore. If I’m honest, for the first half of the spanking I barely felt a thing I was so angry, and for the second half I welcomed the pain.
Dammit, it was something predictable, centering. Made me feel fucking human. But then something just… quits in me.
I feel my body slump over his. A deep sigh goes through me, and a dry sob escapes my lips before I can stop it. He instinctively knows that he’s won, but he’s done exactly what he said he would do. Because his large, strong palm that was an implement of punishment only seconds ago begins to slide over my skin in a soothing caress.
We don’t talk. I don’t want to. I don’t even know what I would say if I could speak right now. My brain has come to a screeching halt, and I can’t process the torrent of emotions within me. He rubs the pain out of my fiery skin, over and over again, crooning to me with soft words in Italian that I don’t understand, but which sound like poetry. I once thought if he read poetry to me, I would fall in love with him.
I imagine he’s saying sweet, soothing things. I imagine he’s telling me that it’s going to be okay, that he’s not going to let my world erupt into chaos, that somehow, magically, he can read my mind and he knows that I need predictability, structure, the certainty of who I am and where I’m going. And I imagine that he tells me he’s giving me all of that. Not as a benevolent king, but as my partner. My friend. My lover.
Then I stop thinking, because his hand parts my legs, and I am so wet I’m sopping. All I can do now is feel the expert way he manipulates my body. How aroused I’ve become at being completely, physically dominated by him. How badly I want the escape of ecstasy, almost as much as I crave the escape of being brought to submission.
Somehow, as if by magic, my clothes and his are on the floor. Somehow, he’s lying on his back staring up at me with something so luminous in his eyes it makes me feel like I’m staring at the sun. Somehow, my legs are spread while I straddle him, and I am so wet that he slides into me with effortless ease. He fits in me as if we were molded to be together.
I’m already panting, sweating, and he is too from the exertion of what we just did. My heated skin rubs up against the softness of his flank, and I welcome the pain of it. It grounds me. I throw my head back when he impales me. He lifts my hips and drags me down the length of his cock with such perfection I can’t imagine being anywhere else or doing anything else right now. It feels like heaven. It feels like forgiveness. It feels like a second chance.
When the tip of his cock hits me deep inside, I throw my head back with the first spasm of pleasure. I never felt anything like this in my life before. He groans in ecstasy as I scream myself hoarse until we’re both lying on each other’s chest, exhausted, with no words left between us.
We land in Tuscany at midnight.
I’m exhausted, both physically and mentally. Everything he told me sits on my chest like an anchor, but I’m too tired to move. I go through the motions with him, vaguely aware that Tuscany is beautiful even at night. Maybe especially at night. Starlight twinkles in the sky above us, like a velvet blanket studded with diamonds, no skyscrapers or clouds or anything at all to distract from the beauty.
A car was waiting for us when we landed. Mario speaks to the driver in Italian, and I wish I understood the language. He guides me to the car as if I’m his, keeping one hand on my lower back. He even puts his hand on my head so I don’t whack it when I get into the car and slide onto the seat. I’m so drowsy, I doze off a little on the way to wherever he’s taking me.