His girl appeared to be very upset, the sobs tugging at his emotions. He stayed strong, not succumbing to his natural tendency to pamper. He delved into his other side, the one that was a bit more sadistic, and watched her, wondering if it was self-pity that had her crying, or genuine remorse. And, part of him took delight in her tears, reveled in them.

  He enjoyed directing people, teaching them, and part of that teaching meant difficult life lessons, teaching children or adults the consequences of their actions, getting them to see the brevity of life and the depth of their sin and how it could change the course of their lives—and those around them—for a lifetime. Tears accompanied lessons like that. The resultant tears were the reward.

  Admitting that to himself, let alone anyone else, was startling. But true nonetheless. Many people—men and women alike—cringed when tears appeared, feeling responsible and guilty. But when tears emerged, he internally smiled knowing that the lesson had been learned. He’d been successful in his technique and with his words, and maybe, just maybe, an unruly and rebellious soul had been put on the straight and narrow again and that when the situation arose in the future, his words would be whispered in the background, cautioning them to keep with what is right.

  On a deeper level, those same tears, because they brought satisfaction and relief, they also aroused him. He loved nothing more than staring into Chelsea’s—or someone else’s—eyes, the huge drops welling and catching on their damp lashes, the red nose and quivering chin. His cock stirred behind his pants. His girl.

  He ignored the erection growing exponentially with every moment that passed and every tear that dripped from her chin to her tightly pressed thighs. Tilting her chin up with a finger, he whispered, “Take your hands away from your face.”

  Slowly she pulled them down, looking up at him. He swore he saw her as a child—a sad, repentant child. But she wasn’t. She was a weeping, gorgeous woman, her beauty somehow heightened, amplified by those sweet tears. Her adorable nose was red from her crying. The wet tracks running down the length of her cheeks had him wanting to do nothing more than throw her to the floor, fucking her senseless before he beat the shit out of her disobedient ass.

  God, help me.

  The feelings warring within him were more than he had anticipated this evening—elation, relief, anger, pity, and arousal.

  “Tell me what you felt when you left the restaurant.”

  She looked at him, the vertical creases showing between her brows indicating that she was confused. Her gaze skittered to the left, remembering the events. “I was happy; we’d been laughing and eating. You know…talking girl stuff.” She smiled bashfully at him. “I wanted to get home, and I knew it wouldn’t take long to tell you I was on my way, so I put the car in drive while I dialed your number.”

  “So you thought about not doing it that way?”

  She paused. Smart girl. “Well…yes, but again, I knew it wouldn’t take long.”

  And there it was.

  He shook his head at her. “That’s not the point. Tell me…when you thought about not doing it, what ran through your mind?”

  She took a deep breath, obviously knowing that her answer to this question was the most important. “I knew it was against the law, but more than that, I knew you’d be livid if you knew I’d done it.”

  “So you assumed that I wouldn’t know, and that it would negate all the other dangers because you wouldn’t be caught?” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, his irritation rising.

  “Yes, Sir”

  “Which means you’ve done it before—probably several times before, maybe countless times before and, indeed, were not caught, right?”

  Her throat visibly worked trying to swallow. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Bad girl!” He was too angry to sit still, jumping up from his chair, seeing her stiffen and twitch as he moved around her to pace around the room. She’d purposely put her life in danger knowing his disdain for it, but deciding to risk it anyway.

  Her sobs were the only sound in the room. He looked at her drooped shoulder, her hair shrouding her face, and the adorable crack between her buttocks peeping above the heels of her feet. He loved this woman, adored her, and couldn’t imagine life without her.

  Emerson tossed his head back, regaining his composure and regulating his breathing. He slipped back into his chair, placing his feet on either side of her kneeling form.

  She chanced a quick glance at him, and before she could drop her head again, he said, “So tell me, once you realized that I knew—that you’d been caught in the act of disobedience—what did you think?”

  “Uhm…I was afraid.” Her voice barely squeaked out; another tell was that she couldn’t make eye contact, which either meant she was truly fearful, something he didn’t want her to ever feel, or she wasn’t telling the truth.

  “Why were you afraid?”

  “I knew I’d be punished and that you were going to be pissed as fuck.” She nervously picked at the skin around her fingernails.

  “You are. And I am. Anything else?” His teeth were gritting—she wasn’t giving the answers he’d hoped for.

  “N-no, Sir. I’m just sorry.” Her lip quivered, her eyes pleading with him.

  He leaned forward, getting almost nose-to-nose with her. “Tell me in one word why you did it.”

  She stared blankly at him.

  “Just one word—no excuses, no rationale. Just one word. Why did you decided to call me and talk to me on your cell phone while driving?”

  She quietly stared at him, biting her lip, her teeth pulling at dry skin there, obviously contemplating the best word…and he had no doubt she was trying to find a word that would save her ass even a little bit tonight.

  “Secret.”

  What did she say?

  It was his turn to blink at her. He hoped she didn’t mean what he was thinking.

  “Explain, please.” He leaned back in the chair, resting his face on his hand again.

  “Well…I did it because I knew you wouldn’t find out. I knew it was going to be a short call and that it wouldn’t matter. It was something you knew nothing about.”

  She paused, but her eyes widened at his obviously apparent disapproval; he’d never been known to have a poker face. She immediately started talking fast, slurring her words to get them all out before he could respond.

  “I mean, I’m sorry, really, really sorry. If I thought you were going to know, I’d have done different, but I didn’t. So I’ll do my research paper, and you’ll punish me, not letting me drive, and I’ll never do it again, ever, I promise.”

  “In the corner. Now!”

  She quickly rose, scampering off, a choked sob her only response.

  How could she? His chest tightened. She’d been doing this all along, keeping it secret. He’d asked her to answer, not expecting the brutal honesty. Knowing his girl like he did, he assumed she’d be worried about being late, worried about delaying his treat for her and rushing, not wanting to take the time to sit in the parking lot.

  But to hear her admit that he’d been duped, that she’d been doing it all along. He shook his head.

  I may need a shot of whiskey for this.

  Emerson eased out of the chair, stretching his back—he had too damn much tension, all knotting in the base of his spine. He stood with his arms folded across his chest staring at her.

  Chelsea had the greatest ass he’d ever seen. Each globe heavy and firm, the sides of each pillowing, giving her a pear shape from behind; she did every exercise on the internet it seemed, trying to reduce them, while he countered it by feeding her every treat they ran across in Amsterdam—and they had plenty there. The biking and walking kept their women fit and trim—there was no need to worry about the decadent desserts and wealth of pasta, pastry and breads there.

  She had faint marks from the hair brushing she’d received three days ago, and they paled with the rosy cheeks she had from his hand spanking in the foyer.

  Dammit.

  And now, he’d be adding a belting—thankfully, she’d proven that she could handle a strapping after their foray with one a few weeks earlier. He’d be damned he do anything less, and if he were to change his mind, it would be to up the severity of a switch, but he wasn’t familiar with those and was worried about cutting her skin. Although she deserved something serious, he couldn’t stand the thought of hurting his girl.

  He picked up the belt he’d left on the dresser, sauntering slowly toward her, pressing his groin against those still warm, pink cheeks, his cock fitting perfectly along the crack of her ass.

  Whispering in her ear, a faint whiff of her perfume greeted his nostrils, his balls tightening at the smell. Breathing deeply, he closed his eyes. He’d always be thankful for this woman.

  “I want you to feel the belt before it’s used on you.” He placed the leather at the under curve of her bottom, threading the tail through the buckle, securing it tightly at her mound. Gripping each buttock separately, he tugged upward leaving the bulbous flesh to rest on the shelf of his strap.

  She whined deep in her throat, closing her eyes.

  “Yes, your ass is prominently displayed, almost in the same fashion as a corset for breasts. I wish you could see how fucking amazing it looks like this. Fuck…I may have this be a form of dress when we’re alone.”

  Narrowing her gaze, she glared at him.

  He cracked the palm of his hand on her backside, the flesh pleasantly wobbling. “I’d adjust my attitude, girl. You have five more minutes in this corner to get yourself straight or you’ll be receiving two spankings.”

  Her eyes widened, nodding her head agreeably before resting her nose into the seam just the way he liked.

  And just as he’d told himself minutes earlier, he left the room for the kitchen to retrieve his whiskey, drinking a shot to soothe his nerves. He needed a cool head and no emotions for the task ahead, and this would do the job.

  Chapter 11

  Chelsea hated how the belt felt pushing her backside up, her cheeks feeling swollen from the spanking in the foyer. She didn’t even know how she’d look those neighbors in the eyes ever again. Luca and Naomi were quiet, good people who waved hello but basically kept to themselves. She groaned out loud, they’d seen her getting spanked—a bare bottom spanking at that. The humiliation was beyond anything she’d ever been through.

  But for now, that seemed minor. Yes, he’d used his belt on her before—and recently—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still afraid of it. And although he’d been angry when she tried to snatch it from his hand the last time, and had whipped her pretty hard for that bit of disobedience, her body couldn’t stop shaking with worry about how upset he was tonight too.

  In hindsight, she shouldn’t have told him that her one word to describe her infraction was secret. But he’d told her time and time again that honesty and truthfulness were the most important parts of their dynamic. She trusted him when he said it, and now she couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a mistake.

  Emerson had always been a calming source to her—when her world felt upside down, or she couldn’t come to a resolution, or was too anxious to think straight—he would be the person she’d contact. And with his rational thinking, organizational skills, and empathetic nature, he’d assist her in coming to a plan of action that made everything in the world right again.

  Her clit had been throbbing through most of this interrogation—she was sure it was nerves, but the slickness of her pussy belied that theory. It really didn’t matter how her body had been reacting because very soon, the pain of punishment would be cancelling out any arousal that had occurred in the meantime.

  “Come here.”

  She moved like a penguin, her thighs tightly restrained by the belt.

  Emerson’s focus was on her breasts, his cock jerking in response to their movement. Once she stood directly in front of him, he pulled her closer, nodding toward the belt buckle at her mound.

  “Undo the belt and hand it to me.”

  Her hands shook, the butterflies increasing in her belly. She fumbled releasing the tail and pushing it through the buckle. The belt had been tightened so snugly on her hips she could barely disengage the tooth, but once she did, the weight of the buckle had the belt swinging from her body, dangling down the length of her leg. She held it up like a lethal snake, wanting nothing more than to drop it in his lap, but she suspected that he wanted her to prepare the strap, handing it to him just the way he liked it.

  She carefully folded it over, the tinkling of the buckle and tooth making her clench her bottom hole. Her nerves felt raw and she hated that he was so disappointed.

  Before she turned it over to him, dropping gracefully to her knees, she looked up at him. “Father, I’m heartily sorry for my sins; not only because of your punishments, but because they have offended thee, Emerson. Thou art good and deserving of my love, and I resolve with your grace to confess my sins, do my penance, and sin no more.” She reverently held his wide brown belt on the palms of both hands, holding it above her head, offering up to him.

  Emerson’s cock dripped with his come, and before she could restrain herself, she licked it off, laving the top with her tongue.

  “Yes, little one, your first penance will be to suck my cock, taking in every single drop, and then we’ll commence with your whipping. Continue.” His hand adjusted his collar, making sure the white strip was centered above the hollow of his neck.

  Her hips thrust involuntarily, her sex clenching, and her cream gushing from her, pooling along the seam of her sex. She shifted the lips of her pussy, slippery, sliding with every move she made. Grasping his cock firmly, she stroked it, squeezing harder than she should, abating his arousal while slowly pulling his balls into her mouth, lolling them along her moist tongue, his wiry hair tickling the roof of her mouth. Slipping them out, the sac shiny with her saliva, she blew on the sensitive flesh, watching his thighs tremble.

  Emerson hissed through his teeth, “Jesus!”

  The veins bulged on the length of him and she ran her tongue along it, pressing hard enough to feel the blood coursing vein dip under the pressure. Once again at the tip, she flattened her tongue on the head, swirling it slowly around, then flicking the sensitive bulb. His salty come coated her tongue, the taste of him spurring her sex to thrum, heat coursing through her.

  She fought the urge to dip her fingers into her slick labia, circling her clit, knowing it would only bring further punishment. Emerson decided when she could come. And with the sins of her evening, he’d more than likely revoke any pleasure.

  Sucking the length of him into her, she pushed him in with one shove, breathing through her nose to stay any gag reflex, and when his full length had been enveloped and he bumped the back of her throat, the veins in his neck bulged and his teeth grit holding back his ejaculation.

  She cupped and squeezed his balls firmly, his reaction just as she anticipated—a small gasp, and he held his breath until she released them, giving her more time to draw out his release, knowing that he’d enjoy it much more with the forced delay.

  With her mouth tightly sealed over his girth, she bobbed her head, working every bit of him. Then, hollowing her cheeks, she sucked on him, pulling and milking him.

  “Oh God. I’m coming, girl.” She reached a hand around to grasp his ass, a firm, solid cheek filling the whole of her hand, and she pulled him toward her, pressing him further down her throat until he shouted with his release.

  He spurted rope after rope of semen into her.

  He relaxed, easing himself from her depths, resting his still erect cock on her tongue, the last drips of salty semen coating her. She sucked him gently, his cock sensitive now, and lightly licked him clean, including his balls.

  Sitting on her heels, she waited for further instruction, not daring to move until he commanded it. Tonight would be hard enough, she didn’t want to step a toe out of line with him.

  “Stack both our pillows near the end of the bed and then center yourself over them.”

  Even though she’d suspected it from how he’d directed her, when he voiced the preparation for her discipline, tears came unbidden to her eyes. She knew he wouldn’t really hurt her, but she also knew that she wouldn’t be sure of that once in the throes of her spanking.

  Stacking the pillows, she briefly wondered how to climb up onto them, the height more than she could master. She finally decided upon pressing her knees into the bed just in front of the pillows, and flopping onto them, she shimmied until centered, her feet dangling in the air.

  His cool hands pressed on the inside of her thighs, spreading them wide. “Keep them spread, turn your toes inward.”

  She hated when he instructed that. It hindered her movement and kept her from clenching freely.

  “Why am I whipping your ass today, girl?”

  “Because I used my cell phone while driving. Because I lied to you and did it previously. Because I wasn’t honest. And because I put my life in danger.”

  “You’re going to be a very sorry girl. But I want you to know your honesty makes me proud. It wasn’t difficult to trust me with your secret misbehavior, and I want you to know that because of that, I’m not going to use a switch or a harsher instrument on you. Obedience and trust are rewarded.”

  Her heart swelled; even in her fear, his praise meant so much to her. “Thank you, Sir. Bless me, Father.”

  She didn’t have to wait. The lash struck her bottom, repeatedly cracking against her inflamed backside. Her legs bounced and kicked in the air behind her, the lines of fire causing her to clench her buttocks tightly.

  He paused the belt to bark at her. “Feet turned in.”

  Relief flooded her when the belt stopped; she turned her feet in as requested and loudly exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She relaxed into the pillows, confused when she felt his bare leg bracing her own, wondering why until the whoosh of the belt sliced the air and the stinging stripe across both buttocks alerted her that the punishment had commenced yet again.