“Now, Grace. I’m waiting.” Impatience flares briefly in Henry’s features, and then disappears behind the stranger’s mask. This is my husband, and yet somehow it’s not.
My instinct is to immediately bend down and grab my ankles; let him do whatever he wants. The wet slickness that coats the seam between my legs is testament to how much I want to comply. My mind has yet to catch up with my body, though, and for some reason it won’t release the fear that is still holding me captive.
So I play for time and challenge him instead. “Why are you talking like that?” I know why. Of course I do, and yet these stupid questions spill out of my mouth. “Since when is that your thing?” I nod toward the paddle he’s cradling. It’s a style I would have bought myself, if I’d had the nerve. It’s quite large—a good beginner tool, because the larger head diffuses the impact. It’s made of wood, and I can see one side is cushioned with a padded leather cover. Henry is stroking that side on his palm. Clearly he loves the feel of it against his skin, and I have to confess, the thought of that leather caressing my body sends a signal straight to my sex. A breath catches in my throat as my long-dormant clit awakes with a throb.
This weekend might be just what we need, after all.
A slap echoes through the room in a loud staccato and I jump, but he’s struck his own palm, not me. I catch a sudden glitter in his eyes before it’s gone, equally fast. That glimpse shows me just how much Henry really wants this, and I shiver at the realization that I’m going to get a proper spanking tonight.
He smacks the paddle against his palm a second time, and then starts to circle around me, pacing slowly as if studying my form. He pauses when he reaches my back, and a caress meanders down my spine. It’s too rigid to be his fingers. It feels firm and yet somehow slightly squishy. Perhaps he has the paddle on its edge, angled more toward the padded leather side? Goose bumps form along the wandering trail he creates, and when he reaches my butt cheeks he keeps going, sliding the implement into my crevice and continuing the forward swipe.
I look down and see the edge poking out from my mound, and then it swivels slightly until the flat side rests against my pussy.
“Time to do what you’re told, Gracie.” His voice sounds much closer than I expect. A puff of breath warms my skin in that sensitive crick between shoulder and neck, and I arch my head almost involuntarily to one side, willing him to kiss me there. He doesn’t, but his mouth is so close my nerve endings react as if he has. Somehow, he has branded me without a single touch of his lips.
From First Time in Not Vanilla (Spanking). Copyright Jennifer Lynne
Not Vanilla (Spanking) is currently unavailable.