Sometimes I’m not very nice, but I think it will be good for you.
He pulls my skirt up handfuls at a time and then traces a finger over my underwear, his touch delicate. “You look so pretty today, Lacey.”
I open my mouth to say thank you but then remember my promise not to speak and shut it again. Mr. Blomqvist laughs softly. The first strike of his hand is vicious, and I have to clap a hand over my mouth to keep from crying out. The stinging goes on and on, and I shift around on my toes. He waits, and then wraps my ponytail around his hand again, though not so tightly I couldn’t get up if I wanted to.
I don’t want to.
He spanks me again, and then again, pinching my flesh hard in between, making tears start into my eyes. I whimper, but I don’t speak. Not orange or red or anything else. I just stop fighting. I haven’t given up in a long, long time, but it finally feels safe to let go now. It’s not even the pain that makes me cry. The pain just makes it easier. I pull a cushion over and press my face into it, and soon I’m sobbing. For once I’m not afraid of the tears, because nothing terrible is waiting to sink its teeth and claws into me. Mr. Blomqvist is the only beast in this room.
Sometime later, I’m not even sure how long, my ass is burning, and he gathers me up against him. His hands are gentle now. We sit down on the sofa, and he pulls me close to him. He wipes the tears from my cheeks, speaking softly in Swedish. I don’t know what he’s saying, but it sounds so good, how you might talk to a skittish horse or a frightened child. The tears keep coming, but this time I don’t try and stop them. It’s a relief not to be forcing myself away from my emotions for a change. I put my head down on his shoulder and let the tears run down my face.
A few minutes later, I begin to sniffle my way back to normality.
Mr. Blomqvist passes me a tissue and smooths my hair as I mop my face. Then he kisses the top of my head and murmurs, “You can speak when you’re ready. Do you feel better?”
I do feel better, strangely. I look up at him shyly. I want to thank him for what just happened, but I’m not sure what I want to say. Instead, I ask, “Can I kiss you?”
He smiles, and it’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen. “Of course, käraste.” He pulls me closer and kisses me with such tenderness. My arms slip around his neck, and I lose myself in the kiss. A slow kiss. A vivid kiss. A kiss that says so much and feels even more intimate than his tongue on my clit. His body is so warm and strong against my own and he holds me lightly but firmly in his arms.
I think I like this Viking very much.
Mr. Blomqvist breaks the kiss and glances up at the clock. “Meeting’s over already. How are you feeling?”
Tired. Weak. But happy. “A whole hour and I didn’t think one bad thought.”
He kisses me again. “That’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever heard. What do you think, shall we go on with our meetings? I won’t make you cry every time, I promise.”
“Just sometimes?” I ask teasingly.
Blue fire lights in his eyes. “Oh, yes. Sometimes I will. You’re just so pretty when you cry.”
He stands and helps me up. Before he opens the office door, he takes my face in his hands and kisses my forehead. “Thank you, käraste. Text me if you need anything, all right?”
I go up on tiptoe and plant a kiss on his lips, smiling. “Thank you, daddy.”
I’m rewarded with a small growl, and his hand briefly gripping my throat. “Off with you. Before I change my mind.”
The next day it’s the same routine. We work together innocently throughout the day. At six I go into his office and kneel on the floor in the middle of the room. I listen to the sound of Mr. Blomqvist typing at his computer and relax into my surroundings. There’s nothing I need to do or decide for the next hour. The freedom is luxurious.
A short while later Mr. Blomqvist stands up and comes toward me. Today he’s smiling, but it’s not exactly a friendly smile. My heart skips like a stone across water as he reaches down and pulls me to my feet. He lovingly cups my chin, and his mouth is close to mine as if he’s going to kiss me.
But he doesn’t. He turns me around, draws my back tight against his chest and wraps a hand around my throat.