Theirs to Use: A Punishment Reverse Harem Romance(39)
A sobbing whimper rose in Karen’s chest.
“It will help you to accept that from the beginning. You’re going to have a very sore bottom when I’m done, and then I’m going to use you with my cock until I’ve enjoyed myself thoroughly. You don’t have a choice in the matter: this is the consequence of your misbehavior.”
Karen’s lips had parted and she had started to breathe very hard. She could feel the wetness trickling down onto her thighs now. Mr. Singleton fell silent, his hazel eyes continuing to look deeply into hers. She realized he must be waiting for something, and then her pussy clenched as at the same moment she knew what it must be and without even willing it she yielded it up.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
He turned her, with the hands at her waist. She felt his left arm move to go over the small of her back, and she couldn’t keep from crying out, imploring him wordlessly to wait, to remember that Karen had never been over a man’s knee before. But he didn’t hesitate: that left arm in the crisp broadcloth effortlessly bent her over, upended her so that her chest rested on the dark blue comforter on his bed, while his right thigh closed over her knees.
“Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no,” she heard herself saying, sobbing, though she hadn’t meant to say anything. He had said she should accept it, but how could she, when he had just… when he had…
She felt a puff of air, felt his weight shift slightly, and then his big hand came down hard right in the middle of her little bottom, almost covering both cheeks, and then it came down again, and it hurt so much that Karen started to struggle and writhe over his thigh, over the bed, from the very beginning. She heard herself screaming now, as if she were someone else. She felt her hands fly back and felt her wrists grasped and twisted so that she couldn’t move at all—any more than she could move when they had whipped her on the coffee table.
Mr. Singleton just kept spanking her and spanking her, no matter how wildly she thrashed her head back and forth or kicked her feet. Her head and her feet didn’t matter at all, because he had her blazing bottom, her agonized thighs, exactly how and where he wanted them, and his hand, raised so terribly high and brought down so very hard, could discipline her as he saw fit.
She wailed and sobbed. She begged for mercy, for just a few seconds without the hand flashing down to give her this terrible lesson.
“Sir! Sir! It hurts… please… please…” she heard herself sobbing.
He said nothing: he simply kept punishing her, until at last, weeping quietly, she felt herself go limp. To her astonishment, and despite the horrid agony in her bottom and thighs that had driven even the thought of arousal and wetness from her mind, she understood that she had in fact accepted it.
When he stopped, only a few moments later, she realized that she had misunderstood what acceptance could mean for her. She had thought he meant she had to like it, but Karen knew suddenly that she didn’t have to like it at all. Maybe she would like it one day, but even if she never did, accepting that she needed it lay in a different realm, a much more attainable one.
For a long time, to Karen’s surprise, Mr. Singleton held her over his knee. When he finally began to rub her bottom, the mixture of pain and arousal that flooded her whole body made her cry out and struggle anew, but only for a moment, as she realized with a hot blush that the struggle had involved a shameful bucking of her hips over his thigh.
“Please,” she begged.
“Please touch your clit, you mean, slut?” Mr. Singleton asked softly, the teasing in his voice very gentle. “Not yet.”
“Please?” Karen whined. She realized with a mingling of joy and anxiety that part of her felt like she wanted to do… whatever this was. She wanted to play, though before this moment she would never have called it that.
“Karen, sweetheart, you’re going to beg me to fuck you now, just as you’re going to beg all your former owners, one by one, tomorrow night. And Pete. And Joe.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered, feeling herself flow onto his thigh even as the feeling of play seemed to dissipate into the same needy fear she remembered from Pete and Joe’s visit to her cell in the CDF.
He kept rubbing her bottom, and as the pain faded into a tingling and an ache, the craving grew.
“If I don’t fuck you now—and I’m not going to fuck you unless you beg me, because I have better things to do, really—you’re not going to come tonight, or tomorrow night. Your poor needy clit is never going to get touched.”
“Oh, God… oh, no, sir. Please… you… you…”
The rubbing got firmer; the pain flared for just a moment.
Karen’s voice sounded low, breathy, like a new voice from a new person.
“Please fuck me, sir. Please use me. Please… please… enjoy me.” Had she really said it? The words, the new voice… they paled in comparison to the way it had felt: the flash of true desire—the true desire that Mr. Singleton, yes, enjoy himself as he did to her whatever he wanted.
He picked her up off his thigh and put her on her knees in front of him. Again she saw his silver belt buckle, but now he was unfastening it, and then he had his trousers and black briefs down, his blue shirt open, and his cock rose hard and thick from a tangle of wiry yellow hair.
Karen thought there would be a pause, that he would give her a command, but Mr. Singleton simply put his hand around the back of her head, twined it in her hair, and pulled her toward his lap. She found she had opened her mouth, and he had fed his penis into it, before she even knew that she meant to yield to him that way, and then he was holding her in place while he moved his hips, fucking her face, probing with his cock for the back of her throat, grunting with pleasure.