Page 27 of Rockland

With trembling fingers, I reach behind me, unzipping my red dress. I used to have to shimmy a bit to get it over my hips, but now, it falls to the floor. I stand before him in my cream camisole and full cut lace panties.

His voice is husky as he says, “All of it.”

Painfully aware of how visible my ribcage has become, I lift the cami, tossing it to the floor. Tug at the hooks of my bra. Free my breasts, heavy with peaked nipples. I pull my panties down over jutted hipbones and they too slide to the floor.

His gaze is cloudy. I can’t quite read the look in his eyes but it somewhere between anger and sorrow. His jaw clenches as he takes in the changes to my body since we were last together. He murmurs so quietly I can barely hear his strained voice as he says, “I should have gotten here sooner. They should have called me sooner.” As quickly as it came, the softness washes away from his features. He nods to the couch. “Over you go. I see you’ve still got an ass on you.”

No amount of skipped meals could get rid of that thing.

I scurry to the couch, eager to bend over because though I’m exposing my bottom fully, keeping my legs tight together, I’m able to hide my glistening pussy from his view.

My belly presses against the buttery soft leather. I fit perfectly, standing flat-footed and bent at the waist. My hands press into the cushions of the seat. My hair hangs down and spills over. Fiery red against milky white.

Goosebumps rise on my flesh as I feel him near. He murmurs one word, and it strikes me in my heart.

Beautiful.

His hand lightly brushes over my naked back. I can’t help but let out a low sigh. His touch sends tingles down my spine. Little pulses of electricity warm my skin where his fingertips trail.

This tiny touch… this light stroke of my back… with me in such a vulnerable position, my clothing stripped from me… his touch… it makes me lose my breath.

This touch. This feather-light touch from him… dominating, no apologies, ripped as hell, tattooed bad boy—it’s awakened me.

It’s as if every fiber in my being is turned on. A long-forgotten need rises up deep from within. Warming my core, melting my insides. Heightening my senses. Now the touch of the smooth leather of the couch pressed against my palms is a soft caress. My hair falling around my face a waterfall of delicious tingles around my shoulders.

And the bare skin where he touches me…

I release a moan from the depths of my soul.

And it’s rewarded with a sharp smack of his hand on the fullest part of my right butt cheek. The stinging pain is delicious, biting my tender skin and further waking my senses. His husky voice invades my thoughts, saying, “You’ve been a naughty, naughty girl. And I know exactly how to handle the naughty ones. Don’t I?”

My breath catches in my throat. My palms dampen against the leather. Is he expecting me to answer him? My question is answered with a matching smack on the center of my left butt cheek. The pain spreads quickly.

Then the sound of leather swishing through belt loops. I bite my bottom lip. Despite the nervous clenching in my stomach, a tiny smile warms in my heart.

My muscles tense, my bottom clenching as I anticipate the familiar sting of leather. He swishes it through the air, then it comes down. The strap strikes right across the center of my bottom. A whine rises from my throat as the sting, the burn dances across my skin. My toes curl into the carpet.

The pain is absolutely delicious.

My mind becomes a warm stream, flowing where he takes me. I’m nothing but feel, touch, sound. He says, “I expect an answer, young lady. Do I or don’t I know how to handle the naughty ones?”

Oh, he does. He. SO. Does.

Despite the devilish spell he’s got me under, I’m still Tess. Instead of a merciful oh, yes, big strong man, you know just how to punish us bad girls, I say, “I wouldn’t know. Do you think you know how to handle us?”

A dark chuckle rises from behind me. I’m thinking of how clever I am.

Then the belt strikes me, for real. Harder than the smacks he gave me last year, or the one just now.

A loud crack bursts through the quiet room. A fire is lit across my rear where the stripe has landed just above the first. My breath sucks in between my teeth. Tears prick in my eyes. I’m shocked by the pain. The burn is all consuming, and it frees me from the prison of my mind. I focus on the punishment, taking it in.

He says, “No need for your opinion. I’ll show you just how capable I am.” The belt comes down, lower this time, punishing the full curve of the bottom of my ass. I’m whimpering. My fingertips dig into the couch cushion.

Arousal pools between my thighs.

Now the belt rests on my ass. Slowly, inch by inch, he drags the soft leather across my burning skin. My muscles tense, waiting for it to rise and lower. It doesn’t.

I hear the belt drop to the floor. A mixture of disappointment and relief washes through me.