Take the Heat

Just fucking do this, Alyson. You’ve got no choice.

She lowered herself once more, grasping the far edge of the desktop in a death grip, holding her breath.

“Good,” he said, pleasure in his voice.

With two snaps, the last strokes whipped in, every bit as painful as the previous eight. She tensed against the desk, grunting as the pain bloomed, white-hot, then fading to a dull, persistent burning suffusing every inch of her ass. The heat had spread to more than just her buttocks, though, the realization a shock to her.

Yes, she’d fantasized about being spanked, whipped, dominated.

But that’s all they were—fantasies.

The reality was much more painful than she’d imagined…though to a certain part of her body, that pain didn’t seem to matter. She tightened her thighs together, clenching her stinging buttocks. With luck he wouldn’t be able to see the evidence of her body’s betrayal.

His low laughter made her want to turn around and slap him.

“You did well, Ms. Hart.” A hand rucked up the thin fabric of her shirt, the warm palm stroking her bare skin. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually go through with it. A thief you may be, but you’re a courageous one too.”

That big hand moved lower, stroking over the inflamed, throbbing weals, and she yelped, clenching her teeth. Fingers whispered at the lips of her sex.

She whimpered, pressing her face deeper into her arms as his fingers splayed her labia apart, exposing the sticky wetness within to the cool air.

“I thought so,” he murmured.

Why was this happening? How was it even possible her body had betrayed her like this?

His palm patted her swollen pussy with surprising gentleness, and his hands moved back up to her buttocks, caressing the curves of her hips.

“You need something for these. Stay there.”

Moving around the desk once more, he slipped the cane back into its drawer. Incredibly, he began a soft whistling as he searched another drawer. The man was perfectly at ease! As if this were a mere afternoon’s diversion.

“There we are,” he said, pulling a round, silver tin from a drawer, then moving back behind her.

“Oh God,” she gasped as the freezing cream was spread over her welts, his strong

fingers kneading it into her aching buttocks, awakening yet more throbbing. “That hurts! Stop, please!”

“You’re going to thank me for this later on tonight.” He sat down on the desk next to her, his hand giving her ass a gentle pat. She moved to rise, but his hand fisted in her hair, pushing her head back down, her tear-soaked cheek pressed to her arms. “Stay where you are; the cream needs time to absorb. And there’s something you need to hear.”

Alyson tried not to think about how she must look, bent over a desk as if she were inviting him to fuck her, bare ass crisscrossed with swollen, aching weals.

Better this than a prison jumpsuit.

“Are you listening to me, Ms. Hart?” His hand clasped her hip, squeezing.

“Sorry, sir.”

“This isn’t over. You did well today, but you haven’t satisfied your obligation to me. You owe me a month for what? Every thousand dollars you stole?”

Seven months of this? Oh God…

He continued, his thumb stroking possessive circles on her hip. “As of today, I own this very pretty ass of yours—and I intend to enjoy it. Whenever I call for you, you’ll come to me. Whatever you’re told to do, you’ll do. Very simple, yet so very hard for a girl like you. Remember this, and you’ll avoid a jail cell.”

“Sir, I…”

“I’ll allow you one question, Ms. Hart; then I want you to get your things and go home.”

“What happens, at the end of this?”