Naia and the Professor Part 12

He smiled. "Nice try. Ten"

"Three." No way on the ten.

"Eight."

"Four."

"Seven," he said, smiling.

She knew he enjoyed these bartering sessions since he always had the last word anyway.

"Five," she said, and then added, "Professor," she turned wide eyes to him. "I want to do this but I don't know if I can. Please."

He nodded. "We'll meet in the middle at six. Remember, you have your safe word and I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't think you were ready. I've been watching you at the club-I've noticed your reactions."

She trusted him. There was no question about that. He took care of her, it was all there was to it. He'd never hurt her and had never pushed her too far. She'd never had to use her safe words.

Looking up at him, she felt no fear when she answered. "Okay. I agree to six strokes," she said. She wondered if he felt it too, this shift in their relationship.

Liam smiled and brushed his lips over her cheek. He was the only man who made her go weak with just a kiss.

"Turn around and clasp the footboard. I won't bind you unless you need me to."

She didn't want to be bound; she wanted to give this to him. Casting one last glance at the cane, she turned and a.s.sumed the position, knowing to take enough s.p.a.ce from the bed so her bottom would be presented most appropriately for him. She spread her legs wide and arched her back, thrusting her backside up and, keeping her back flat, looked forward. She imagined the picture they made-him behind her, cane in hand-her ready, willing, and waiting for punishment. Heat radiated through her, starting at her center and spreading, scorching her already wet p.u.s.s.y.

She swallowed. "I'm ready, Sir."

"Count," was all he said before the cane whistled through the air and the first stroke landed at the center of her a.s.s.

She sucked in a breath and gripped the footboard tighter while the sensation settled. It was different than anything she'd ever felt. It was an incredibly intense, hot pain that seemed to spread beneath her skin.

"One," she said.

She closed her eyes when she heard the hiss and the second one landed just below the first. This time, she bit her lip but some sound escaped her. She shifted her feet and tensed her b.u.t.tocks once, twice.

"Two," she said, her voice just a little higher. It hurt. It hurt worse than anything she'd felt before. But it somehow also satisfied.

At the third one, she called out. He hadn't hit the same spot yet but she knew he would and when he did, it would take all she had not to crumble to her knees.

"Three," she said once she was ready for the next one.

There was a pause then the fourth struck over top of the first stroke.

"Ah!" Tears now fell from her eyes but she didn't wait, instead quickly called out "Four."

"You're doing very well, Naia. You're almost there, just two to go."

His encouragement was followed by another stroke just where her a.s.s met her thighs. She whimpered and moaned in pain, shifting her bottom from side to side. One more, she could do this.

"Five."

She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched the footboard.

"Last one. This will be the worst," he said.

She wished he hadn't said it.

"I'll wait until you relax your muscles."

She'd been clenching and hadn't realized it. Exhaling a breath, she wiped away her tears, and repositioned herself. She took two deep, slow breaths and concentrated not on the pain the cane caused, but on the moisture that slicked her thighs. She took her legs just a little wider. "Ready," she said, bracing herself.

Her knees buckled when the final stroke came across the backs of her thighs and stung like nothing she'd ever felt. It took all she had not to reach back and try to rub away the pain, but she didn't. She held her position and waited even as tears poured from her eyes.

"You did so well," he said, taking her into his arms. He held her, one arm covering her shoulders, the other hand caressing her hair, kissing the top of her head. "I'm proud of you, Naia."

He held her for a while before walking her to the bed to lay her on her stomach. He sat beside her and slipped a pillow beneath her hips. His fingers lightly traced what she imagined were now bright red welts.

"Spread your legs just a little," he said.

She did, very aware of the moisture that had gathered there.

She watched while he stood and stripped off his clothes. His c.o.c.k was thick and hard and she wanted him to bury it deep inside her. She made a husky, low sound and he smiled before settling between her legs. She flinched when he spread her cheeks apart but when his tongue came down over her p.u.s.s.y, she could only moan in pleasure. After a few moments, he righted himself and the head of his c.o.c.k probed the slick entrance. One hand found her c.l.i.t while he adjusted her position with the other and slowly slid his c.o.c.k deep inside her. He held there, filling her, while he rubbed her c.l.i.t. She closed her eyes, lifting her a.s.s just a little higher when he began to move.

o.r.g.a.s.m came on fast while he pumped, his belly punishing her sore bottom each time he thrust, progressively harder and faster. When his thumb pressed against her a.s.shole, she was lost. Her p.u.s.s.y clenched around his c.o.c.k until, after a few more hard thrusts, he too stilled, emptying inside her.

They lay beneath the covers, her back to his chest, his arm across her shoulders, his hand covering hers.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I'm thinking how much my bottom hurts," she said.

"What else?" he probed.

"Well," she began. "I guess caning's not a hard limit anymore." She smiled. "I'm happy, Liam. I feel ... good."

He squeezed her closer and she flinched when her tender b.u.t.tocks pressed against his belly.

"Me too, Naia."

The End.

About Natasha Knight.

Natasha Knight is a homesick American living in the Netherlands. She writes erotic romance with an emphasis on casual BDSM, heavy on the spanking. Her other books include Liaison and Pierced as well as several short stories in collections. To find out more, please visit her at: http://www.natasha-knight.com.

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