Blossom in Winter (Blossom in Winter #1)(113)

“Do you like it?” she asks in the sweetest and meekest voice I’ve ever heard.

Wow. I blink twice to be sure I’m not dreaming. “Very much so,” I reply, barely containing my excitement.

“Take off your clothes.”

I obey immediately and prompt myself to undress as fast as possible. She’s not mad at me anymore—she wants me!

“I believe you forgot something, Mr. Van Dieren.”

I smile again and remove my boxers, revealing my cock, already long and hard, ready to pound her again.

She doesn’t look down, doesn’t blush, just wets her lips. “Come closer.”

I move forward excitedly, ready to lie down on top of her.

“I said ‘closer.’ Not ‘over.’” She presses her heel against my chest, moving me backward.

I stand right in front of her, perplexed, confused. What does she have in mind?

“Now sit on your knees.”

I raise both eyebrows. “What?”

“I said ‘sit on your knees,’” she repeats, emphasizing every word.

I want to protest, but I’m too damn curious and excited to see what she’ll do next. Therefore, I obey and sit on the floor on my knees. Fortunately, there is a carpet underneath.

“Head down.”

I smile and look at the floor.

She stands up, walks around me, and stops right behind me. “Now bend over, forearms on the bed.”

Fuck. This is too much! Who does she think she is? “Petra…”

She brutally brings her heel down on my back, forcing me to bend.

I whine.

“Do not contest my orders,” she yells like a general.

I grudgingly obey again and brace my body and forearms on the edge of the bed.

“Head down,” she repeats louder.

I shake my head, displeased with her childish behavior, but I find myself putting my head down between my arms. Is she crazy or what?

At that moment, I feel a light caress on my back. But it doesn’t come from her fingertips, it feels like leather. Leather? Wait—

“I let you have me the way you wanted. Now it’s my turn.”

And with all the strength and rage boiling in her, she violently strikes me with my riding crop.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I snarl.

“Shut the fuck up! Or I’ll do it harder!” She hits me again with even more strength. I try to endure it, but my body twists instinctively and my back starts burning. She hits me again, again, and again… I bet she loves hearing the sound of the strong leather violently hitting my flesh. It’s probably drenching her little pussy… Damn! I’m trying hard to handle the strikes, but I whimper at the last one. I feel my back growing hot as hell—it’s probably marked. Her breath quickens as she beats me even more enthusiastically.

I can’t stand it any longer and start whining. “Petra! Fuck! Stop!”

She finally shows some mercy and stops, while observing me—more precisely, while enjoying my pain and my reddened back. She violently grabs my neck and bends down to my ear. “Look, there’ll be times I might just want to whip you without foreplay, without tenderness, without cuddling, without being gentle…” My body shivers instantly at my words repeated back to me. “Do you feel comfortable with that?”

My heart skips a beat. I’m not sure if I love or hate her behavior. “Does punishing me like that turn you on?” I ask, my voice broken.

She smiles, triumphant. “Very much so.”

Damn. I sigh loudly. “Then yes. Let me turn you on.”

I hear only silence.

“As you wish,” she snaps icily, before letting out a breath of annoyance. Wasn’t that the correct answer?

Fuck! Another stroke. Looks like she’s decided to grant herself as much pleasure as possible by flogging me even further.

I whimper louder and louder, then swear and snarl at every hit.

But she ignores me. After all, I didn’t beg her to stop yet. My pride tries to endure every flog. I bet my back is in terrible condition by now, covered with wounds.

Thankfully, she finally stops, and I hear the riding crop fall to the floor beside me.





Petra Van Gatt





He whines as I press the cotton with the antiseptic cream against his bright red marks. He then sighs loudly but hasn’t said a single word the whole time I’ve been taking care of his back. His silence is unbearable. I know he wants to say something. I feel it…

“I’ve never let any woman flog me before,” he finally snaps, his tone cold as ice.

While I feel pity for his poor back, I have no intentions of apologizing. I actually feel quite relieved, the pain in my chest gone. Margaret was right: taming him was the perfect antidote. “I see.” I tremble thinking about the question stuck in my throat. “Have you ever flogged a woman with that kind of strength?”

“What strength?” he teases.

I press the cotton firmly against his worst bruise.

“Ouch!” He stays silent for a moment, pondering, then lets out a sigh. “Yes… Many.”

My heart drops, hearing the truth. I get goose bumps picturing him being so violent.

“But I won’t do it to you. Even if you beg me to.”