Collared (Vegas Nights Book 1) (6 page)

BOOK: Collared (Vegas Nights Book 1)
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“It’s difficult for a bottom to feel truly punished without a hard, long bare-bottom spanking,” he continued. “And if a bottom doesn’t feel truly punished, they cannot feel truly cleansed, and if they do not feel truly cleansed, they are more likely to repeat bad behavior.” Smiling devilishly at them, he hooked his fingers into the waist band of her white ruffled panties. “I think it’s time for these to come down.”

Only then did Diamond react, and it was so slight, he’d bet money that the crowd missed it. She didn’t cry out; her head didn’t move—there was nothing tangible for them to see—but Pax saw it. Her whole body tensed, and her bottom cheeks clenched as tightly as they could as she clamped her thighs together, as if to say, “No, I’m not okay with this.”

He hated the fact that there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t speak softly enough for only her ears over the sounds of the club, even when the audience was quiet. He settled for rubbing her back, and softly tapping her bottom as if to say, ‘Hey, remember me? I’m in charge here, and you need to trust me,’ all the while keeping his fingers hooked in the waistband. She didn’t have to like it, but they were coming down. When he felt her relax slightly, heeding his cues as he hoped she would, he slowly lowered her panties, bringing them to a rest right below her cheeks, so that none of her naughty bits were in view for anyone, not even him. He watched her shoulder muscles contract, and then relax again as she realized what he had done, and was reminded that she could trust him.

Tapping her bottom lightly with the palm of his hand, he prepared her. He had not spanked her on the bare before—save for a few well-placed swats to the tops of her thighs, and this would be a slightly humiliating, but humbling, and cleansing experience for her.

Working the audience, he picked up the wooden paddle from where he had placed it on the stage floor, and waved it in the air, before setting it back down. Not yet. He raised his hand once more, and even though Diamond had not moved from her position facing the back of the stage and her eyes were scrunched tightly shut, her cheeks instinctively clenched in anticipation of the blows against her bare skin.  A quick tap of his fingertip to the small of her back told her what he needed from her. He heard her exhale deeply and watched as her bottom relaxed into its bouncy, pliable form, awaiting more of his correction. Finally, he began to spank, watching in delight as his hand connected with her creamy white skin, leaving a delicious but faint handprint on her left butt cheek.  Entranced, he attempted the same mark on her right cheek.   When his hand lifted the third time and he glanced down at his work, he saw two perfectly symmetrical mirror image handprints, and couldn’t help but smile at his accomplishment. It was like a work of art, and if this wasn’t a scene in a club, he would have pulled out his phone and captured the image for all eternity. Too bad he was going to have to ruin it, he thought as he brought his hand down again over the top of it, blurring the lines of the perfect image with a crisscross pattern where the two prints intersected.  Now he focused on completely covering the two prints, turning her bottom an all over pink hue, until every line of the handprint was an indiscriminate pink blob. After about twenty swats, her bottom glowed a hot pink shade all over, and she was no longer able to be stoic and she wriggled and squirmed all over his lap, shrieking her pretty little head off with each new blow. Pax was no longer engaging the audience, and Diamond was putting up enough of a show with her reactions that they no longer cared.

Finally, he bent down and picked up the paddle, waving it in the air above his head, halfheartedly this time. The crowd was now just an afterthought. He heard their cheers as a dull murmur, and their presence was a blurred sea of faces in the not so distant distance. He was totally focused on Diamond, and his own handiwork. He took in her every breath, every wiggle, and squeal of pain and adjusted accordingly. Before the first punishing blow of the paddle was laid against her flaming rear, he tucked her in closer, and held her tighter. The first touch of an unforgiving wood paddle against a hot bottom had sent many a naughty girl flailing.

Diamond proved to be no exception. The paddle thudded, crushing her round fleshy bottom flatter than a pancake for a fraction of a second, and she reared up, forgetting her stubborn positioning she had thus far kept for the duration.

“Ow! Dammit!” she cried loudly, bringing a smile to his lips.

“Watch. Your. Mouth.” Each hard word was punctuated with a loud resounding smack across the middle of her bottom.

“Yes, sir!” her voice was a thick whisper but at least she had remembered “over-the-knee etiquette.”

The paddle fell again and again, wreaking its havoc across the fleshiest and most spankable part of her bottom, until she was crying in earnest. Pax was nowhere near finished. Not yet. Diamond responded to a spanking different than any bottom he had ever come in contact with. She more than any of his girls, craved that release. She didn’t just crave it—she needed it, and he was going to give it to her.

He had learned over the years that the quickest way to a sub’s tears was through her sit spots, especially when an implement such as a paddle or strap was involved. But Pax wasn’t interested in quick. Not this time. He lifted his knee, resting his foot on the bottom rung of the chair, tilting her body forward so that her nose was nearly touching the stage.  She let out an “oomph” of air as her body adjusted to the change in position.

Her panties still rested right below her bottom, blocking his access to her tender crease where bottom met thigh, and he frowned impatiently. If this were a private scene, they would be on the floor in a hot minute. Instead, he carefully pulled them back up, smiling as she whimpered at the chaffing of the itchy sheer fabric against her hot and tender bottom. More for his benefit then her own, he gathered the fabric on both sides, pulling it to rest in a bunch, held into place by the crack of her bottom, leaving the still pristine skin of her sit-spots bared for his chastisement.

Her breathing, her soft cries of acceptance, every small shift in her body language told the same story. This was it. She was on the border between acceptance and release, and what he did next would make all the difference. He had never felt this much pressure to execute a spanking so exquisitely. His performance spankings were just that, performances—the spanking equivalent of a “wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.” Bend ’em over, spank ’em, hard, make ’em cry, and move on. This was different. At least he thought it was—his other girls could be battling the same kind of dark demons from their past that Diamond was—they could need a gut wrenching, sob inducing, guilt cleansing release. He didn’t know, he had never asked. It hadn’t even been on his radar to care.

But Diamond had come along, with her horrifying past, and her tangible pain, and acted herself out of a job and into his heart.  And he couldn’t help it, from the moment he had scooped her up, and carried her off the stage at Aubergine, he had wanted to be her savior. Save her ass, save her job, save her identity, and save her from her demons that she hid so well.

These were the thoughts running through his head as he lifted his paddle once more, and launched a full on assault on her tender sit-spots. There was no audience now—not on his radar anyhow. There was only his paddle and her ass—nothing else mattered. Pax was in the zone; every fiber of his being was tuned in with every fiber of hers. Her pain, her cries, his application of the paddle in just the right spot at just the right time. It was like they were singing a beautiful duet that only the two of them could hear.

She was crying, full on sobbing, but she wasn’t there yet. There were no words coming from her, no cries of guilt being released, or sorrow being expressed. Her back was tense, and the stress was still evident in the lines of her shoulders. But her bottom was red—redder than he had ever seen, and red hot bottoms were his specialty. In a split second decision made entirely on impulse and out of sympathy for a girl who had certainly more than paid the price for her misdeeds, but wasn’t yet finished, he dropped the paddle, letting it clamor to the floor without ceremony. Sometimes there was nothing more effective than the simple combination of hand and butt. It was like peanut butter and jelly or macaroni and cheese. Not fancy in the least, but a comfort inducing classic.

The clatter of the wooden paddle on the hard wood floor caught Diamond’s attention. It was evident in the slight turn of her head, and the sagging of her shoulders. She thought he was done, and she wasn’t happy about it.

“Not quite yet, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Not quite yet.”

* * *

She experienced a split second of paralyzing disappointment before Pax’s hand slammed against her ass in a blinding rush of pain and pleasure, and the breath returned to her lungs.  The slap of flesh against flesh was wildly loud, and oddly comforting. In her satiated state, she concentrated on the sound, giving meaning to each powerful blow. One by one she released her grievances—dating all the way back to her mother’s heartbreaking and unexpected death, to her completely horrifying behavior on her birthday two days prior. She was sobbing, crying out her pains and sorrows unintelligibly, in a garbled language only she could understand. Somewhere in the back recesses of her mind, it registered that she was still on stage, and that she was having a very noisy public breakdown, but she was beyond embarrassment, beyond self-consciousness, beyond caring.

Her entire body had gone numb—she could no longer feel his hand—she could only hear the blows as they fell; the noise a rhythmic lull as she collapsed against his lap and seemingly floated away. She didn’t notice when he stopped, didn’t hear the roar of the crowd as they erupted in cheers of excitement and arousal. She didn’t notice when the floating sensation she was experiencing became actual floating as Pax stood and lifted her into his arms, carrying her off the stage, still in her prone position.

She felt higher than a kite, and more relaxed than she ever remembered feeling. All she knew was that this had been the single most painful, humiliating, and arousing experience of her life, and she was as weightless as a feather, as if all the cares she had in the word had been spanked away.

And then there was Pax. Never had her view of a person changed so completely and so quickly. Prior to yesterday morning, she had thought him to be a self-serving pimp of a man. A narcissistic money-hungry player with an overly inflated ego. At this moment, he was an angel—the hottest, sweetest, most dominant angel to ever fall down from the heavens—if angels had hands like two-by-fours and biceps bigger than her neck.

Each time Pax spanked her was harder and more unyielding than the time before. It was also more cathartic. She should be hauling off and decking him right about now, but there was nothing she wanted to do less.  The humiliating act of accepting a spanking for wrongdoing, the release from pain and emotions that had been weighing her down for years, and the pain induced euphoria she was currently experiencing combined, leaving her in a state of unrelenting happiness and peace.  She was so damn relaxed, so damn happy and hornier than she had ever been.

Her giddiness increased when they made it to the dressing room, and Pax carried her through the doorway, closing the door behind them with his hip. He laid her gently on her back on the red suede chaise in the corner of the room and she smiled as she finally saw his face for the first time in over an hour. He knelt next to the chaise and she was shocked to see his beautiful smiling eyes were a mask of concern—and longing.

He opened his mouth to speak, and she put a finger to his lips. “Shh.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close and kissed him more deeply and fully than she had ever kissed anyone before. Pax hesitated for a split second, and then they were a frenzy of passionate kisses, and he was on top of her on the chaise, so entwined that it was hard to tell where he stopped and she began. Their movements were rushed and impatient—shirts and undergarments flew across the room in their rush to have that skin to skin contact. Soon they were nearly naked, her in her white ruffled panties that were chaffing against the heat radiating off her ass, and him in a pair of sexy black boxer briefs. Pausing for a minute, her eyes raked over his body with a happy grin, so that was what healthy eating and a strict workout regime looked like. Damn.

Lowering his head to her waist, he took the waistband of her panties in his teeth and lifted her off the chaise with one giant hand underneath her butt, just high enough to drag her panties down her hips, guiding them down her legs with his mouth until they, like all of her other clothes, were on the floor.

Just the simple act had her ready to orgasm on the spot. She had never been so filled with need for anyone before tonight. Her connection to Pax was primal—a hunger that ached deep in her belly and spread its fire to her pussy, until that too throbbed with a deep aching need that she knew wouldn’t ease until she was rewarded with the sweet release of his cock thrusting into her with a force that was only rivaled by the impact of his hand slamming into her ass only minutes earlier.

His body covered hers like a blanket, and he wasted no time filling her with his manhood. Their movements were as connected and tuned as they had been on stage, and their organs strummed together like a bow playing a violin.

Diamond was beyond coherent thought. His body on hers was the only thing that mattered. Her movements were frenzied and without inhibition, a feeling that was completely new to her. It hit her like a powerful drug, and she wanted more. She grabbed his tight ass and squeezed, relishing in the irony of the contrast. One of his large hands could completely cover her own ass cheek, but her own tiny hand barely grazed the surface of one of his.

BOOK: Collared (Vegas Nights Book 1)
13.24Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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