What She's Looking For (24 page)

It didn’t have to be,
shouldn’t
have to be, but somehow he knew. If she balked now, it would never be the same.
This really was the last chance. Whether this was truly the end or merely the
end of the beginning, hung on Ashley’s decision.

A stronger gust galloped across the
snowy field, blowing up from the road below, the tick tack sound of ice
crystals spraying against the house the only counterpoint to the moan of the
wind.

Ashley glanced up at Parker, then
squinted against the breeze, every second feeling like an eon, his need for her
almost too much to bear. Then she rose, looking away but laying her small hand
on his forearm.

Don’t go. Christ, don’t go,
Ashley.

The words were on his lips, the
breath to speak them nearly exhaled, when she turned slowly and walked up the
stairs, the door creaking closed behind her.

Parker turned his face into the
wind, wincing a smile against the frigid needles stabbing his skin.

Finally, it could begin.

* * *

He smiled as he walked through the
door. She’d remembered the proper way to display her body. He’d never get tired
of that ass, its broad pleasing curves spread upon her bare heels, the dusky
wetness of her sex just visible below the join of her cheeks. As the door shut,
the dark whorl of her anus clenched, and a muffled murmur could be heard
against the cushions.

“Put your hands up on the couch,”
he said, pacing behind her. “Rest your head on your arms. I don’t want to hear
a
sound
from you.”

She complied slowly, her rib cage
moving as she brought her arms up, Parker longing to run his fingers along
those delicate ridges, feel the softness of her skin.

“Stay where you are, Ashley. I’ve
got something for you.”

Strolling down the hallway, he
suppressed a sigh of relief, contentment and anticipation swelling within him.
This was how things should be; her under his thumb, naked, obedient, anxiously
waiting for her sentence to be pronounced.

All was right with the world when
Ashley was his.

Opening the closet door, he found
it. He’d had it made for her several weeks ago, but it hadn’t been shipped to
him until the day before she’d fled. He’d sat on the bed last night, turning it
over in his hands, unexpectedly hurt that he’d probably never get the chance to
use it. That pain had angered him, and he’d thrown it in the closet, determined
to never look at it again.

Until she returned.

As he walked back out to the living
room, he stripped off the sweat-soaked t-shirt, the warmth of the house making
it feel clammy against his skin. He didn’t care if he smelled, if she found him
dirty. She was about to experience just what it meant to be owned by him. By
both of them.

Her surprised jerk made him smile
as he placed the black leather of the tawse against her bottom. “What are you
being punished for?”

“I … I don’t know, Sir.”

The leather smacked her ass, not
hard, but the blow was enough for a sharp intake of breath. The tension in the
room excited him, the anticipation of hearing her cries, watching that creamy
flesh flush red, then crimson, made him want to rush into it. But there was
pleasure to be found in each stage of a punishment — including the wait.

“Try again, Ashley.”

“For running?”

“That’s right.” He stroked the
menacing length of stiff rawhide across the pale expanse of one ass cheek. “And
do you feel that’s wrong or unfair? Should you be punished for making me worry,
for making me wonder if we’d ever see you again?”

“I’m sorry, Sir. I had to.” Her
voice broke on the last syllable, and he let her sniffle, knowing she needed
this as much as the punishment. “I was afraid. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Running from us is the exact
wrong
thing to do.” He pressed the leather to her ass again. “How can we protect you,
if we don’t even know where you are?”

“I — I don’t think you can protect
me from this, Sir.”

His voice lowered to a growl. “And
what makes you think that?”

She hid her head in her arms, her
ribcage expanding with a great, hitching breath.

The leather whipped down on her
soft bottom again, and she yelped. “I’m waiting, girl. I expect an answer.”

“Please, Sir!”

“Are you still afraid of me? Is
that what you can’t be protected from? What’s so wrong about that? You
need
to be afraid of me, at least a little, yes?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

“Then what’s wrong? You know I’d
never really hurt you, girl. Tell me what it is.”

“It’s me, Sir. I’m afraid of what I
want, of what I think I need.” She sniffled again, and the urge to cradle her
in his arms and taste her tears on his lips was overwhelming. But he knew she
did
need this. She needed consequences, she needed the tree that wouldn’t bend, the
cause and effect. More than anything though, she needed to know that he would
always hold her accountable. They’d never talked about it in so many words, but
Parker knew her well enough to see the truth of it.

And he would give her exactly what
she needed.

Dropping to one knee, he laid the
length of leather down on the cushions beside her, his hand stroking the sable
fall of her hair, those locks that he’d feared he’d never get to run his
fingers through again. “You never need to be afraid of your desires, Ashley.
That’s why you’re here. Give them over, surrender them — just like you’ve
surrendered your body.”

His lips moved against the plane of
her shoulder blade as he talked. “Nothing you could ever tell me, no need, no
urge, no matter how dark you think it is, would
ever
make me not want
you. Nothing you could say would make me less determined to make you mine.”

“Sir, I’m so confused. You have no
idea.” She was weeping now, a quiet, heart-rending sound.

“There’s nothing to be confused
about, Ashley. Things are very clear to me.” He kissed the bumps of her spine,
his lips lingering a moment against her skin as he spoke. “You’ve done
something wrong, and you need to be punished for it. That’s what I’m going to
do, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me, so you might as well give in.
Let it go, relax — accept it.”

Her breath hitched as she inhaled,
her voice watery. “What then? How do we … how do I know what to do?”

Parker stood, untying the string at
the front of his warm-ups. “What then, Ashley? I’ll tell you
exactly
what. I’m going to strap you, then I’m going to fuck you. You’ll stay kneeling
against that couch, silent, obedient, as I slide my cock into your pussy. I’ll
fuck you as long and as hard as I like, then you’ll take my seed quietly,
gratefully. Then we’ll have a little talk about how things are going to go from
now on.”

The jet leather lay like a serpent
over the snowy softness of Ashley’s bottom, threatening, promising. Her body
grew still. “Do you agree to this, girl? Is this what you need?”

Her nod made his heart soar, even
as his cock ached in the constriction of his warm-ups. “Then we’ll begin. Take
this like a good girl, and we’ll start with a clean slate. All forgiven.”

The first stroke smacked diagonally
across the broadest expanse of her buttocks, the lush flesh rippling with the
blow. A sharp exhale was her only response, a pinkening bar of hurt blooming
across her skin.

Two more blows, sounding like
pistol shots, cracked across her ass, her mewing louder with each one, her hips
swaying as the pain sank in. This really was for her, unlike any punishment
he’d ever given her. Even though he was turned on — fuck was he ever turned on —
it wasn’t because he was strapping her. It was because he really
was
giving her what she needed. He knew she felt bad for leaving, for the loose ends
— for potentially squandering a chance at something so good.

But he’d help her wash it all away.

The leather smacked down in a
steady rhythm, Parker making sure no part of her ass went untouched. When he’d
laid down a good dozen strokes, he paused to run a hand over the warm,
pinkening flesh. “A good start.”

She sighed as his hand moved
between the swelling cheeks, fingertips testing the tight anus, stroking down
the perineum to the wet, soft heat of her sex. Two fingers slid between the
lips, seeking her core, and she clenched upon them. He pistoned those fingers
slowly, but deliberately, delighting in the wet sounds her pussy made as he
worked her.

“Just a taste for now, girl.” He
withdrew his questing digits to a disappointed murmur. “You aren’t done by a
long shot. Stick that ass out for me”

He tapped the leather under her
buttocks, the tip brushing the bare sole of her foot. “Up. Higher. Hollow that
back. I want to see that cunt.”

Her luscious bottom rose off her
heels, its broad, heart-shaped glory making his mouth dry up and his cock ache.
He was so glad she’s come back, that body his possession now. He was partial to
a wide variety of body types, and saw the different beauty in each one, but he
always came back to what was right, what called to him most. The lush curves of
a woman, the round, pale bottom, the dramatic sweep of the wide hips, the nip
of the waist, the soft, generous breasts. Ashley had everything he’d ever
wanted in the feminine form.

That she also happened to be the
submissive yin to his dominant yang was almost … cosmic. For the millionth time
since he’d first laid eyes on her dazzling form, Parker thanked the God he
still wasn’t sure watched over him. He knew things could still fall apart, that
there was so much that lay ahead, so many trials that might yet undo them.

But now, with her gorgeous ass
waving in the air, waiting, wanting, laid bare for anything he chose to do to
it, none of that mattered. There was only her, and him. Lust and pleasure.
Reunited, just when all seemed lost.

He would worry about tomorrow when
he had to. Right now, his woman needed a spanking, and her cunt needed a
fucking. And he was just the man for the job.

She yelped as the tawse snapped
down, harder this time, her hips shaking as the sting sunk in. He made sure to
lay the full length of the leather methodically across both cheeks, her lush
buttocks shaking at the impact, the tip of the lash digging into the far hip.
Once, twice, three times he smacked the tawse down, drawing a cry from her by
the last one. He knew she’d have some marks on that far hip, and he smiled
imagining the glassy-eyed fascination he’d see in her gaze as she stared at the
bruises in the mirror tomorrow morning.

“Do you think that’s enough, girl?”
He swung the leather lazily against her cringing ass, watching her chest expand
with her labored breathing. Individual darker lash marks were beginning to
stand out from the flushed, pink background of her burning bottom. “Have I
gotten through to you yet?”

“If — If you think so, Sir.” Her voice
was so muffled against her arms, he strained to make out her words. “Please, no
more.”

“There’s only one thing that’ll
make it stop. Otherwise, you’ve got more coming, bad girl.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Her watery whimper made him smile,
melting him for a moment. He leaned over, placing a soft kiss against her
exposed ear. “Be strong for me, Ashley. First the fire, then the forgiveness.”

She moved her cheek against him,
and he kissed her there too, the trails of her tears glistening in the warm
light of the room. Then he rose once more, tapping the leather against the
swollen sex peeking from between her legs. “This wants more, I think. It’s
never enough for it, is it?”

“God no,” she moaned, her hips
rotating against the tawse. “
Please
.”

He wasn’t sure if she was agreeing
with him, or entreating him to stop, but as the lash fell once more against her
vulnerable bottom, those thoughts fled from his mind. Now, there was only his
duty, his incredibly erotic duty to punish those snowy, soft cheeks until they
flushed scarlet, until he’d ensured she felt as keenly in her flesh the hurt
his heart had felt at her absence.

Again and again he strapped her,
even varying the strokes, some forehand, some backhand. Soon enough she was
crying out at each blow, her weeping evident now, her sore bottom weaving in
the air. He gave it a respite, pausing to stroke its heated, hurting curves
with a palm, squeezing one or two of the more swollen weals with his fingers,
only to take up the tawse once more, slashing it lengthwise down either leg,
scoring the tender thighs with punishing strokes, vivid red marks rising on the
vulnerable flesh immediately amid her keening groans. It was then that she
pleaded with him, told him she’d do anything, that she’d learned her lesson.

“I believe you, my girl,” he
whispered, draping the body-warmed tawse over her upper back, his fingertips
playing through the beads of sweat pooling between her shoulder blades.

Her tension melted into the couch
then, and she wept fresh tears, her sweat-sodden hair clinging to her scalp. He
pulled its weight back from her face, twisting it into a single thick braid,
and laid it over a shoulder, exposing her nape to his kisses, the tip of his
tongue tasting the salt of the sweat on her skin.

“Please, Sir! Please, no more.” Her
voice hitched with a sob. “I’m sorry. I was so afraid.”

“I know, Ashley. It’s over.” He
kissed her back, tasted the tender flesh at the join of shoulder and neck. He
worked the waistband of his warm-ups over the jut of his erection, snatching
them down his legs. She moaned as the head of his cock touched the blazing heat
of her bottom, the tip trailing moisture across her burning flesh.

He clasped her waist in his hands,
the rightness of it stunning him.
This
was where he belonged, claiming
her, making sure she knew who owned her, who would never,
ever
let her
go again. Her place was with him, under him, subject to his rules, to his
demands, to his lusts. He would make her his own in every way, in ways she
couldn’t yet understand. Soon she wouldn’t know where he began and she ended.
They would be only one — body, heart and soul.

But first he needed this, she
needed this, this affirmation that she was alive, that she was desired, that
she was a woman wanting to be taken by her man.

He slid into her in a long,
achingly slow stroke, her cunt rippling, clamping upon him as he sank into her
heat. When he was as deep as a man could go, he held himself within her as she
gasped, her hands clawing for purchase into the cushions.

“This. This is right, Ashley. This
body is mine.” He pulled out, then slammed back fully within her, making her
groan. “This cunt is mine. Don’t ever doubt it again, girl.”

“Oh yes. Yes!” Her voice was
strained, lust rendering it almost rough. “Fuck me.
Please
, God!”

He growled as he took up a punishing
rhythm, his hips shaking her body with each plunge, her whimper accompanying
each retreat. The scent of her sex filled the room, and Parker’s lust fired
higher as he stared down at her gorgeous round ass, his marks swelling upon its
curves, the soreness of her ass, the knowledge that he’d given her that pain
turning him on even more. She’d know for the next few days who owned her, who
made sure she was never let off.