Two Billionaires in Vegas (Love by Numbers 1)

He noticed what I was attempting to do and grabbed my hips, stilling them.

“You don’t have permission to do that,” he said, voice low and laced with menace. “You need to be punished.”

I didn’t realize I was nodding until I was already doing it. Yes, I thought, please punish me! Please!

Swallowing, I said, “I accept my punishment.”

“Damn right you do,” Caleb replied, bringing his hand back and spanking me.

A groan left my lips. This actually hurt, my skin tender and stinging, but it also felt good. He smacked my ass again, a third time, a fourth, and my skin screamed at the assault. I threw my head back and moaned before I grew weak and slumped forward onto Caleb.

His arms wrapped around me, folding me into a hug, before he suddenly stood. Caleb’s arms were like a vice around my own and my feet didn’t touch the ground as he walked across the room. He thrust me away from him and I bumped into Jackson.

Caleb panted as he said, “Your client sought grievances against you for your poor performance at court. I’ve awarded them.”

“Hey sweetheart,” Jackson said, smirking down at me. He pressed a hard kiss to my lips and spun me around. He gently pulled both of my arms behind my back and began to wrap my wrists in rope.

I let out a deep breath and closed my eyes. I expected to be scared of getting tied up because, in the past, I’ve always associated it with being hurt. But I wasn’t. I felt calm, ready.

When Jackson was finished, I felt as if my wrists were bound in some sort of handcuffs made from rope. I tested it, feeling a little slack around my wrists. For safety, I recalled from my research. To prevent injury.

Jackson stepped close to my back and laid his hands on my shoulders. “How are you going, sweetheart?” he whispered.

“I’m good,” I rasped.

“Water?” he asked.

“Please.”

Caleb walked over and held a straw to my lips. Greedily, I drank. I had to force myself to stop so I didn’t have too much water in my stomach.

“Alright,” Jackson said when I was done drinking, “I’m going to bend you over the spanking bench next.”

I barely had time to process what he’d said before he maneuvered me over to a black piece of furniture I recognized from my research. He pushed my waist up to the bench and bent me over.

I’ve had sex doggy style before and have had sex over the arm of a couch or table, but I’d never felt as exposed as I bent over the spanking bench. I even still had my panties on, but I may as well have been naked. There was something so vulnerable about being tied up and not able to see what was going to happen to me next.

I heard rustling behind me and my anticipation grew. I wanted to turn around to see what was going on, but couldn’t. It killed me not to see what Jackson was about to do. Yet it was so thrilling being forced to wait.

Something light traced down my spine and I shivered. It felt soft like feathers, the barest caress. My back arched as much as it could with the spanking bench beneath me, unconsciously moving away from the touch of feathers on my skin. It didn’t help. I couldn’t get away from the tickling sensation. Just when it became too much, I heard a crack.

I didn’t realize the sound was from something hitting my skin until a sharp sting spread across one of my cheeks. Almost unable to believe how much I liked the sensation, I gasped. My underwear were damp and I could feel the cold air against the wet spot.

I had just enough time to catch my breath when I felt a smack against my other cheek. This time I threw my head back and cry out. I was forced to clench my inner thighs, needing the friction to abate my arousal.

“Now, now,” Jackson said, obviously noticing what I was doing. I stopped, holding as still as possible until I felt his hand cup me between the legs. His hand was hot against my skin, hot like fire. I was unable to stop myself from grinding my pussy down on his hand, though he didn’t stop me this time. In fact, Jackson seemed to encourage it, slowly moving his hand over me, stroking me until I felt as if I’ll lose my mind.

Abruptly, he stopped and pulled his hand away. I cried out in frustration. If he’d just kept it up, just kept touching me twenty more seconds, I would have cum.

“Is something wrong, Erin?” he asked.

I knew this was part of the game. Yes, I wanted to cum, but I also wanted this to last. “It’s perfect,” I managed to say.