Theirs to Use: A Punishment Reverse Harem Romance(38)
“It’s time for you to go over my knee, slut,” he said. “You ran away, and even when I gave you another chance at an independent life you spent your first paycheck in a way that suggests you will need help for some time keeping yourself from another stay in a detention facility. You masturbated two days ago…”
Karen cried out at these words, and tried to twist away, but Singleton held her steady.
“Yes, of course I know about that, slut. I watched it on the security camera I had installed to make sure you didn’t try to run away even from that apartment. I’m not going to punish you for playing with yourself, but you need to know that from now on you may not touch my property without permission, or you’ll end up over my knee again, just the way you’re about to experience.”
She turned her eyes downward then, her face blazing red.
“Look at me, slut,” Singleton said, shaking her chin slightly for emphasis. She obeyed, tears filling her eyes. “After I spank you, I’m going to use your mouth, your cunt, and your anus. You will beg me to enter each one, and to use it exactly as I please. After I’ve come in your ass, if you have been a good girl for me, I may teach you to respond to my touch and let you climax, but if you come before then, I will take my belt to your backside until you can’t sit down for a week—and when my friends, your former owners, enjoy your ass tomorrow, you’ll feel like they’re whipping you all over again.”
Karen’s lips had parted, and her breath came in little gasps. Singleton stooped and thrust his left hand between her thighs, probing, caressing, demonstrating his mastery. Karen whimpered, and the abundant wetness with which her cunt had greeted his hand grew as he taught her again about what her body needed.
Still wanking her roughly, making her writhe between his two hands, he said in a low voice, “Do you understand, slut?”
“Yes, sir,” Karen sobbed.
Chapter Nineteen
Mr. Singleton’s hands left her abruptly, and Karen fell to the side, onto the dark blue carpet of his elegant bedroom with the big bed where it seemed she would now serve him every night. She watched his feet, in black Italian leather, cross the distance to the bed.
His rough hand on her pussy, his firm hand on her chin. In mere seconds Mr. Singleton had shown Karen that her shameful cravings hadn’t diminished at all in the time since the last dominant man, enormous Mr. Jefferson, had used her. No, they had grown even more overwhelming: she had clenched down there as never before, while Mr. Singleton held her fast, and her wetness had gushed onto his hand so immediately, so abundantly that she heard again Niagara Falls in her head—and the degradation of the phrase made her even hotter, even wetter.
Was it because after having her shameful desires awakened so thoroughly by the ten men who had bought her, the two weeks without it had left her in need so dire that even the shame of masturbation in bed, of trying to spank herself, could do nothing to satisfy it?
Or—her heart quailed as the thought came to her, just as Mr. Singleton turned and sat on his bed, thighs spread wide enough for a girl to stand between them, before he toppled her over his knee—had his roughness, his calling her slut, aroused her so much because of the embrace that had preceded it? Did she feel this aching need for all the awful things these men—this man—wanted to do to her because now she felt something different from Mr. Singleton, too: a tenderness it seemed he had no wish to conceal any longer?
Love? No, surely not love. Not… yet.
He had told her she could look him in the eye, but now the idea of lifting her gaze from the left thigh he patted now, in order to see what expression he wore—in hope of seeing a particular emotion there—frightened Karen almost as much as knowing she would now have to go naked over his knee and endure the terrible spanking her owner meant to give her.
“Come here, slut,” Mr. Singleton said. “It’s time for your punishment.”
She had run away, even though she knew that the law, the contract, was on his and Mr. Green’s side. Even though she knew they didn’t mean to harm her—that they had chosen her because she needed exactly what they meant to give her, shameful as it might be in the eyes of the world. She had run away, and this man had given her a second chance she didn’t deserve.
And then she had bought a stupid ice-cream maker. In the way of things, the way of the world, of the cosmos, it might not be a big deal, but Karen simply couldn’t deny that she had earned a trip across a man’s knee, a firm hand on her bare bottom.
And she had… played with herself, because of the cop show. And he had seen. He had seen her spank herself. His left hand, patting his thigh; his right arm with the sleeve rolled up… he only meant to give Karen Hunter exactly what she had coming.
Her lower lip quivering, her nose twitching, she crawled toward the big spread legs.
“Stand up, Karen,” Mr. Singleton said. “Come stand between my legs.”
She could hardly get to her feet, her knees felt so wobbly, but she only had to take three steps and then he had her, closing his thighs a little, his hands on her waist. She had looked down at his belt buckle, thanking heaven that he hadn’t taken it off—yet. He would, even if he didn’t whip her with it. He would lower his pants when the time had come to use her with his cock. Karen swallowed hard.
“Look at me,” Mr. Singleton commanded. Karen whimpered, bit her lip, and obeyed. His expression made her draw a gasping breath through her nose: so hard and yet so… knowing, concerned, intelligent. “I’m going to spank you very hard, now, and for a very long time.”