Red Hot Obsessions (195 page)

The doorbell rang.

A break. I sighed. Logan would wait for Geoff to delve out the candy. Um, no, he didn’t wait for them to leave! I bellowed when wood struck my flesh again, twice in quick succession. He didn’t even let me catch my breath.

I cried out, “Ooowww, aahhh.”

Another one fell and I groaned out a wavy sob.

“Ohmygod! Is someone being spanked?” a young voice cried in fright.

“Indeed,” Geoffrey replied. “A young lady was caught throwing eggs at the house. She is being punished right now.”

A boy said, “See? I told you we should never do that. That we could get our butts whooped. Let’s get out of here!”

I shouted out as he hit me once more. Blood was already pooling in my face from being upside down, but it and my pink tulip went totally ablaze. All my breaths were huffs.

“Everyone can see what a bad thing you did, Addison. Sixteen more with the ping pong paddle.”

Sixteen? Good god. I started to blubber. Could I take sixteen? I’d have to.

He smacked the blurry line where thigh meets cheek, where it already stung the most, and alternated back and forth. Each hit felt like spikes driving into my flesh.

I pressed my lips in and scrunched my face, but I decided to relax my bottom as the remaining blows were delivered. I was out of breath when he was only half way done.

I whimpered at each blow, and let out a shuddering sob when they finally tallied up.

He rubbed my back as he let me stay there for a few minutes. “One more phase, Addison.”

“One more?” I sniveled.

“Yes. You can do it. Take it all … like bad medicine.”

I was blubbering as he tugged me up by the hand and pulled my head to his chest. My skirt flitted back down and my underwear spilled around my ankles. I loved the sound of his heartbeat, the scent of his skin. He stroked my hair. I wanted to scratch off his skirt and munch on his pecs and abs that looked so skillfully sculpted. I placed my hand over his heart, just so I’d have an excuse to touch muscle. His tribal percussion beat wildly against palm. Mmm. Naughty, naughty, Logan. I had to mentally fight my hand to not travel down and do much wilder things.

“Kick your panties off your feet. Gentlemen, we’ll be right back.”

I did as he asked, and he walked my bare ass to the door and into the gallery. He shut the door behind him. I scrunched my nose in confusion. What the heck were we doing?

Geoffrey was in the gallery, rushing back to check in on my butt-blasting, no doubt. He was mask free for the moment and dripping with sweat, his black, wet hair sticking every which way. His body odor curled my toes and made my nose crinkle and beg for a coffee bean reset.

“Geoffrey! Get back to your post and suit up.”

He shot darts with his eyes and grumbled before choking out a huffy, “Yes, Sir.”

When the gorilla left eyeshot, Logan backed me into the wall with delicate digits against my spiraling tummy. My heart sped when he drew close to me, his chest stopping a few inches from mine. His left arm arched over me on the wall as he leaned in. Logan’s lips looked so kissable, soft and delicious. My god, was he actually going to plant them on me? Electric sparks simmered beneath my skin, and they fluttered up to my face and down to my unpopped cherry. I felt hotter and hotter as I held his intense gaze, until I was boiling with need.

“Third phase is your choice,” he whispered all husky. His touch at my abdomen drifted down, down, until he was skimming across my thigh, whisking back and forth, then it began dancing, floating, rising, ever so softly, right under the hem of my flimsy skirt. He never lost contact with my skin or gaze during the glorious ascent.

Breaths skipped out of my nostrils in double time. My lungs were on fire, hot and raspy with want, and my lips felt parched, drawing out a stroke of my tongue.

“Seven hundred and twenty-six,” he muttered.

“Mmm, what?”

“Including hundreds of playfully delivered warm-up slaps, that’s where we’re at.”

“Oh. You counted? Wow, that’s a
lot
.”

“Indeed. That’s way more than I expected to give you.” His chickadee wings finally reached their destination, stopping and curling right under my soaked flower. “And look what we have here.”

I gasped when two fingers drew lines along my flesh.

He tsked and said, “Syrup on tap, even more than when I last checked.” Logan gently stroked the folds of my slit and covered my mouth with his other hand, shielding a moan when he edged the entrance with little circles. “Shhh, bad girl. How many spanks does it take to make an impact on a spanko who’s loving every minute of her punishment?”

I shrugged, but it morphed into a shiver when the breeze from the opened front door tickled my body and bitch-slapped the internal heat that was so close to consuming me.

“Neither do I. You’ve cried, sure, but not because you’re sorry. The truth is right here.” He looked down on the fondling action and back up, reclaiming my hypnotized stare. I was captivated and awestruck by the autumn in his eyes. “Want me to stop?”

Fuck no.
His hand still blocking my lips, I shook my head side to side.

“Didn’t think so.” He released my mouth, placing his curled hand back over my head, but his other touch, building now, had me drowning in desire.

I quivered and clamped my jaw to kill the wild groan of ecstasy rushing along my tongue, as he thrust up inside me and finger-fucked me in the hallway while kids were getting treats right around the corner. I closed my eyes and lolled against the wall.

“Mmm, you’re so juicy.” He pressed his upper body closer until his lips were tickling my ear. His furious pulse was maddening against my boobs.

God, how I wanted this man. My eyes opened wide when I realized I’d hooked my fingers into his waistband and pulled his pelvis closer. I dropped my hand and raked my nails, accidentally I think, but not regrettably, against the restrained bulge that was still too far away from me.

“Naughty girl.” As he glided his fingers up into me, again and again, he inhaled deeply, his nose right on my skin. All of his touches flared twangy ribbons of energy through my body. “Speaking of juicy … you smell like peach. Not fake peach,
real
peach, ripe, succulent and sweet, ready to be eaten. It’s such a surprising scent for the dead of fall. Your shampoo or your body spray. Or maybe … it’s just you. Wanna know what I think, Luscious?”

He pulled back from me, but I was a puddle now, still tingling on my ear and in my well of passion. He stopped moving his hand but stayed buried inside me. I cursed my cunt as it squeezed at the desired intrusion of its own volition, begging him to resume that scorching slide. Could I
be
more slutty?

“I think your face should get redder than that ass and that embarrassment should linger in your gut for days, so much so, that you don’t even have to recall the event, it’s just there, constantly biting at your bits and making you burn. I think your stomach and legs should tremble so much, you’re convinced they’ve turned to Jell-O. I think you should whimper and cry deep in your soul because I made you feel like the bad girl you are. And I think you should, at the end of it all, feel totally absolved and repentant. I can make that happen. You shouldn’t be here getting your kinky kicks for free on my dime. I can punish you right, but you’d have to follow me into the darkness and do
exactly
as I ask. It wouldn’t be pretty. That’s option one. Or you can take the safer road and let me top you off at eight hundred with my hand, or a hairbrush perhaps, and you can leave here, knowing you didn’t get the punishment you truly deserved.” He took his hand off my mouth, slid out of my truth and slowly sucked my blabbermouth juice off his fingers. My loins jolted and ached. He ran his tongue across his fucking awesome lower lip, and I could smell my arousal on him, all spicy sweet. “Mmm.
You
are the peach. If I took a ripened slice, dipped it in butter and sugar and gave it a sprinkle of salt and pepper, it wouldn’t be as delectable, but it would be very close to the taste of you. Eating you out would surely be a heavenly experience, but only
real
angels deserve such a fun reward. You are here for punishment. Choose your poison.”

I clutched a fistful of his T-shirt and looked him dead in the eye as I breathed out, “Punish me … as you see fit.”

His eyes squinted, stealing the flames of Eros, and his breath hitched up to tango with mine. He was turned on, inspired, thrilled by my pick. He waited three seconds for me to change my mind, but I kept my trap shut. “There’s no backing out.”

“I made my choice and will hold to it.”

“Very well.” He clutched my arm and escorted me back into the game room. The gawkers stopped muttering amongst themselves, their attention drawn back to the spectacle of me. “We’re almost done then. Lay down on the ottoman.”

I set my knee on the 4' x 4' leather square and he clutched by arm. “No. On your back.”

“What? Why?” I shuddered as he let go of me, unbuckled his belt and jerked it out of the loops. Seriously? My butt couldn’t take much more. And he was going to belt me? Though I did all but tell him to ‘bring it’, I fell to pieces.

“Well, you’ve been corrected for the eggs and disruptions, but you still need to be punished for dressing so slutty and for cursing when I told you not to. Since you’re practically naked, sharing far too much of your body with the public, you are going to show off
more
and be spanked in the most exposing, most humiliating position. Now … get on your back.”

I still had absolutely no clue what he meant. What position? I followed his instructions and got on my back, thighs flat on the ottoman, knees bent at the edge. He set his knee beside me and began drawing my bent legs up toward my chest. Oh my freaking god. I now knew what he meant. Shit, shit. There’d be no escape from their gazes with me like this. And with me balder than Charlie Brown right now, they’d see everything.
Every—
thing. I guess that was the point. Yeah, I was hot in the face and gooey inside and begging him for another way with my pleading, prickling eyes. Like this? Really? He wasn’t joking about darkness, about burning!

“Please.” Sobs tripped out of me and tears finally fell, rolling into my hair.

He slid fingers through my hair and mouthed, “You know you need this.” He pressed my bent knees up to my ears. “Very good. Wrap your arms around and hold your legs here, steady. I don’t want to see them drop at all. If you do, I will add to your lashes.” He dragged his index finger up and down my crack and over my hole, wet slit and clit. “Yes, Addison. We can all see the entirety of your wet pussy and your cute little backdoor, especially since you were so thoughtful to remove all your pubes.”

I cried in embarrassment.

“Bad, bad girl. You’re due five on your bottom in this humiliating, tell-all position.”

He doubled the belt, flung his arm back and whipped it down on me, landing with a crack that shot through the room.

I yowled and bucked up, letting go of my legs.

“Make that six. Hold your legs.”

“I’m trying.” I whimpered, clutched tighter, waiting for the belt strike.

It came swiftly and I screamed. “Ow, ow.”

“Four more.”

He fired two fierce lashes in a row, not letting me catch my breath.

I sobbed and shook. I was exhausted and prayed for the next two to be over, but this phase totally worked. I did feel bad for my actions, as well as foolish and sorry for chucking the eggs and dressing like a whore, all to impress my crazy House. And Logan had known how much I needed that revelation.

He tapped me, rubbed the belt over me teasingly and made me wait at least thirty seconds between blows. The last lick felt like it cut me or something and I shrieked. The smart it left behind had me bawling.

I went to get up, and he said, “Not yet.”

“Aren’t we done? I thought it was over. You said six. And I really do feel sorry now.”

“I said on your bottom. There’s still the matter of you getting turned on by all this. I think your betraying pussy deserves three.”

“Logan, please,” I cried.

“This is entirely optional, Addison. You can bow out and be done, just say the word. But I think your pretty bits could use a little jolt for being so aroused during a correction? Do you? Can your conscience be free without it?”

“No ... it can’t. I’ve been dirty and deserve the punishment you see fit for me. Give me three, Sir.”

He hesitated on replying, only a wavy huff escaping his lips. Maybe he was surprised by my answer. Who in the world would
choose
to take pussy slaps with a belt over getting up? Me. Miss Sicko Freak Spankazoid, that’s who. “Okay. Keep your bent knees up, but reach down between your legs now and pull your outer lips apart.”

Though I agreed, I wasn’t looking forward to the belt smashing into me, but the calmness and release to my soul I knew would there at the end magnetized me like a moth to light. I needed this. Badly. I was sniveling, nearly convulsing. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I did as he commanded, spread myself open to peering eyes and ultimate vulnerability. My poor, aroused clit was unhooded and erect. It was right there. Exposed for the bite of leather. I didn’t even really care about the onlookers, only the impending pain … the pain I deserved.

Logan unfolded the belt, grabbed it in the middle, brought it up only a foot over me and slapped it down, striking my sensitive bud, my wet, pink parts and butt crack. The long lasher covered so much area. I jerked and bellowed in an automatic response, expecting extreme agony, but he didn’t hit me even close to full force, it was just a slap that didn’t hurt as badly as I thought. My cry felt like an overreaction. He’d given me a little jolt like he said, and I was amazed at how much I loved it, at how pleasurable that measured pain felt.
Oh, wow.
This was a naughty girl’s punishment, and I was so very naughty. When he hit my alerted sex again, I became soaked anew, and that time, with the expectation of pleasure, I moaned out a hooker’s cry like a cat in heat. Fuck. This felt so, so good. My whole body quaked, my asshole winked, and my vagina ached for release with the last strike. Hit me, hit me. I might have been smiling, I don’t know. I was on the inside. I waited and waited.