Six Signs of Submission (Desire Island 6)

“Then we’ll stop. It’s that simple. As we discussed, this is an exploration, and it’s on your terms. I would just caution you—don’t let fear dictate your reactions. Try to just feel what you feel, without analyzing or censoring it. Do you think you can do that?”

She swallowed visibly. “I’ll try.”

“Good girl.”

He led her to the couch. “Stand in front of me a moment,” he directed as he sat down. “I want to look at you.”

Again, a blush moved over her cheeks. She was so adorable with her shyness. A part of him just wanted to pull her down onto his lap and make love to her. But another part, the sadist in him, wanted to make her suffer—that particular exquisite suffering that fed a true masochist’s soul.

“Hands on your head again,” he directed as she stood uncertainly before him.

With a deep breath, she did as he commanded. He let his eyes move slowly over her lovely body, from the high, firm breasts down the flat, muscled abdomen to the smooth cleft between her strong legs.

“Turn around,” he said. “Stand with your back to me.”

Her back was straight, the skin smooth and tanned. Her ass was small and nicely rounded, slight muscular indentations at either hip. Her calf muscles were well-defined beneath supple skin. She was powerfully built while still maintaining every bit of her femininity, like a Greek sculpture.

She was breathtaking.

His palms itched to stroke and smack that sweet little bottom. He wanted to feel skin on skin. On an impulse, he rose to his feet while pulling his T-shirt over his head. He stripped off his bathing trunks and tossed both items beside the couch.

“Turn around,” he commanded.

Lainey obeyed, hands still on her head. Her eyes flickered over his naked body to his cock, which bobbed between them, fully erect. She drew in a breath, her gaze coming back to his face. “You’re naked,” she stated. He couldn’t tell from her tone or her expression if that was a good thing or not.

He grinned. “I figured it was only fair. Plus, I want to feel skin on skin while I’m spanking you. If you’re not comfortable with that, I can get dressed again.”

“No,” she said quickly, her gaze again darting to his erection. “That’s okay. You’re fine. I—I like it. Evens up the playing field,” she added with a saucy grin that pleased him. She might be submissive, but she was strong and confident—the very best kind of sub.

“Great,” he said, settling again onto the couch. “Come here. I want you to lie over my lap. We’ll start nice and slow, and build up from there. Don’t anticipate, don’t resist. Just let it happen, and feel what you feel.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

He could see she was still nervous, but curious as well—even eager.

She draped herself over his knees. He helped her position herself until she was how he wanted her—her groin against his thighs, the upper half of her body resting on the sofa. Her legs hung down near his, and he caught them, trapping them between his thighs.

“This will help you stay in position,” he explained. “I want you to fold your hands under your head. Rest your cheek on them and relax.”

He waited until she obeyed. Then he placed his hand lightly on her lower back.

She instantly tensed, drawing in a sharp breath.

“Shh,” he soothed. “Relax, Lainey. You’re safe here.”

He stroked her back and ass, running his hands lightly and soothingly over her skin until some of her tension eased away. He shifted his touch solely to her bottom, which he lightly kneaded and patted for a while.

“You’re doing great,” he told her. “I’m going to start now. As the skin gets used to the stroke, I’ll intensify it. If you can, keep your body loose and your muscles relaxed. Embrace the erotic pain and take it into yourself. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said breathlessly. “I think.”

He chuckled. “Don’t think. Just be.”

He started lightly, gently smacking each cheek in turn in a steady rhythm. He was pleased she didn’t resist or tense up. After a minute or two, he hit her harder, hard enough to sting.

She stiffened, no doubt startled by the sudden impact, but she didn’t protest or try to move away.

Pleased, he continued at that level for a while, enjoying the sight of her jiggling flesh slowly turning from creamy white to a rosy pink. He alternated smacks with soothing strokes with the tips of his fingers, praising her as he did so.

When he thought she was ready, he said, “I’m going to smack you properly now. You’re ready. It’s okay to cry out. It’s even okay to cry.” He paused, half expecting her to protest, or worse, to roll away from him in outright refusal.

She was breathing hard, but she didn’t speak or move. She was trembling ever so slightly, though whether it was from fear or desire, he wasn’t quite sure.