Free Captive, Mine by Trent Evans, Natasha Knight Page A

down to twin dimples he found quite appealing indeed. Then the curve of her hips flared, bottom plump, lush even. The redness of her earlier spanking had disappeared almost entirely, only one spot, low on one cheek, threatening to darken with a small bruise. Her buttocks shivered a little as she shifted her weight, her fingers lacing tighter in that black mass of her hair.
    “Legs shoulder-width apart.”
    Complying, she muttered something, but it was too soft to make it out
    “What was that, Ms. Cross?”
    “Nothing… I. Please, isn’t this enough?”
    He reached up, clasping her hands in his, her body tensing. Her hair was soft against his knuckles, and he thought then how much he’d like to run his fingers through it, feel that silky weight in his palms.
    Too close, Lake. She despises you anyway. Just be done with this.
    “I want you to bend over now. Body parallel to the floor. Keep your hands where they are.”
    “Lake, for God’s sake—”
    He smacked her ass with a loud crack, and she jumped, yelping.
    “I’m not telling you again, Ms. Cross.”
    She whimpered as she bent over, pausing a moment to widen her stance, hollowing her back and canting her hips a little to maintain her balance. Her movement was smooth, her hesitation borne of mortification rather than physical difficulty. He wondered at that as she held her position, the palm print blooming in deepening pink on her right buttock. The position was a stress position, intended to both expose the victim and physically tire them. He watched her for several long moments, the way the smooth thighs shivered with tension, the cords of the hamstrings taut, the crevice of her buttocks yawning open, the darkness within hinting at the anus not quite visible in the gathering morning light. The plump, smooth sex swelled below it, a glint of light catching what he’d suspected had gathered between the folds of her pussy. He laid a hand gently on her hip.
    “Almost done.”
    Her response was half growl, half sob.
    Crouching behind her, he stroked a hand up the inside of each thigh, gauging her reaction. Surprisingly, though her thighs tensed further, she didn’t bolt, or even vocalize resistance. The handprint was an angry red now, and his palm caressed its heat before he ran his hands down her long, trembling thighs. This wasn’t about the wire anymore, and he wanted her to know that, to get used to the fact that he could — and would — touch her anywhere he liked. The sooner she understood that she was under his control, the sooner she might settle down, and the sooner she might actually be able to help him keep both of their asses from ending their days in shallow graves.
    “Spread your cheeks, spread everything.”
    Her breath caught at his words, and she froze. He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head, as she weighed the chances of punishment if she refused. He decided to help her along.
    “If you don’t, I will. And you won’t like how I do it, either.”
    She cut off a small, desperate sob but her hands slipped back to cup her buttocks.
    “Lake…”
    He didn’t respond, rather he let her dread — and his anticipation — hang heavy in the air. This was a turning point, of sorts. If he could get her to obey him here, he knew there was a glimmer of hope.
    Her fingers grasped her cheeks and eased them slightly apart.
    “More than that. I’ve got all day. Dragging it out only makes it worse for you.”
    Lily pulled them fully open, her back hitching once, a quavering sound from deep in her throat.
    The dark whorl of her anus came into view, the perineum, the delicate petals of her inner lips visible between the plump lips of her sex. Unable to resist, he drew a fingertip between her buttocks, savoring the feel of the smooth flesh there. He tapped lightly on that tight, vulnerable entrance, and she grunted, her anus clenching reflexively.
    “You know what to do, Ms. Cross.”
    Her fingers paused, one of them raised, shaking, as if she