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Billionaires in Paris Cynthia Dane 2022/8/3 13:56:18

My negligee bunches up my back and dangles from my stomach. My bare toes wiggle against the floor. A tender yet firm touch rounds my ass, playing with my thong. Ian knows how hard to pull so the fabric rubs against my slit, pushing past my folds and discovering my swelling clit. The only thing keeping me from gasping is the fact my Dom hasn’t told me I can make sounds.

“Do you want to confess?”

Tears threaten to appear. I’m not scared, or sad. I’m bitterly relieved that I don’t have to initiate this. By now Ian can read me so well that he knows what I desire from the way I move and speak. Did he latch on to my mood from my text earlier? Or did it take until he entered the room, already determined to dominate me tonight? He often makes the decision to have a scene sooner rather than later. Yet I’m the one who decides what kind of scene we have. As my Dom, it is his responsibility to respect my needs and, well, deliver.

Do you know how long it took me to realize that? To accept that it’s okay to love it?

See? Even now I have to come to terms that this is something I want. Isn’t that why he’s asking me?

“I do.” My fingers dig into the bed. It’s as much me grabbing purchase as it is me channeling my sudden, coursing energy. “Can I?”

“Of course.” So much can be read into his touch. The way he massages my skin. The way he strokes my thighs. The way he almost bruises my flesh. He’s itching to spank me, and I’m itching to let him. However, we don’t spank around here unless we have a damn good reason. If I’m being the impish brat, it’s to keep me in line. If I’m acting na?ve and innocent, it’s to, well, keep me in line!

When I’ve got a lot that I need to unload, it’s to spank the negativity out of me.

Is that a weird way to put it? I don’t know how else to explain it. When I confess to what’s bringing me down, the strike of his hand against my flesh doesn’t feel dangerous or hateful at all. It rarely even feels like it’s coming from him. I confess, and he banishes the thought from my head until I’m blissfully unaware of anything bothering me.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, my love. I’m here to help, and to make you feel good.”

I say the first thing to appear in my mind. “I’m so tired.”

We both know I don’t mean physically.

To anyone who has never been spanked the way a Dom spanks you, let me say that there is no bracing for it, although you may know that it’s coming. It’s not just a spank. It’s a carefully timed and practiced strike that is meant to make you bite down on your lip and lurch forward. Except, if you’re like Ian, you don’t want me to lurch forward. Part of my discipline is taking what he bestows upon me and using it to become stronger.

I can’t stop the sound flying from my mouth, but I can withstand the sting exploding in my middle. It’s screaming through every neuron. It’s terrifying my ears. It’s reddening my skin and making me wet. When I am done confessing and Ian is satisfied with how I’ve taken this, he’ll reward me.

That’s what I tell myself to stay patient. You cannot truly have any idea how much I want to skip right to the reward!

His voice echoes in the back of my head. Strong. Protective. Self-assured. Everything I need him to be right now. “My mother.”

That’s all I need to say. Smack! Every thought of my mother escapes my brain, replaced by my growing need for the man caressing my pinking skin. He rubs his erection against my ass. A quick reminder of what I get when this is over.

“These things come in threes. What’s the last thing you want to confess?”

I hadn’t planned on anything else. The stress of my mother is enough to make me need this scene. (If she knew that, she would never speak to me again.)

An image of Martin appears in my head. Not the one you’re thinking of. I’m not thinking of him in the café this morning. I’m thinking of a very, very different time.

It was our one month anniversary. He knelt in my bedroom, rubbing his cheek against my leg and begging me to get him hard. Martin had an amazing ability to hold back an erection until told to have one. I’ve never met another man like that.

I’ll spare you the details of the whips and cock rings we used that night. Of the way he licked my skin and feasted upon my pussy with a glint in his eye that pleaded to have his talents recognized. We ended up not being in love, but he knew how to be exactly what I wanted in the bedroom. In another life. When the only way I could relate to men was how they served me.

Ian hesitates. When he spanks me a final time, it’s so hard, so intense that I cry out in nothing but exquisite pain. A flash of light erupts in front of me. Gone. You’re gone, Martin. Take your fantasies of being treated like a sex toy and spending hours earning your reward at my feet. I don’t need them anymore.