Free Darkest by Ashe Barker

tormenting my left nipple. Knowing what he intends to do, the pain is sharper the second time. My hands move involuntarily to protect myself. His look of reproach is enough to make me drop my arms back down to my sides, as I wait for what comes next. He flicks each nipple with the paddle twice more, and I force myself to stand perfectly still despite the biting sting.
    Satisfied at last that I am obedient, accepting, he turns away, pulling a chair out from the table and sits on it. He beckons me to him, and with a soundless gesture indicates that I am to lie across his knees. I step forward to stand beside him, my hands on his leg as I carefully lean forward, positioning myself. When I am comfortable I let my weight rest on him, my head hanging down nearly to the floor. He strokes my back softly, running his fingers down my spine, and I shiver. He repeats the action, this time sliding his hand down over my buttocks, under my panties. He massages the rounded, fleshy cheeks of my bum, sliding his fingers between them to caress my sensitive slick folds. I moan, unable to contain my mounting pleasure.
    “How many strokes do you need, Eva?” His voice is curt, harsh despite his gentle, arousing fingers. I am momentarily confused by his deliberate choice of words. What sort of ‘strokes’ does he mean?
    The sharp, stinging slap on my bum settles that question. I squeal.
    “Be quiet or I’ll have to gag you. We don’t want you waking up the household, now, do we? Now, how many strokes?” He slaps me again, hard. I muffle my squeals with my hands. “I… I don’t know—” I manage to get out before his hand lands on my bottom again and I can’t help but start to wriggle. His arm is firm across my back—I’m going nowhere. Not that I want to.
    “I think twenty strokes should see you fine. With the paddle. But first, I intend to warm you up a little with my hand. Is that okay, Eva?”
    His gentle, matter-of-fact voice is deceptive. I know I can manage his hand—he’s spanked me before and it’s been wonderful. But the paddle? That’s an unknown quantity. I begin to quake. What have I let myself in for?
    “Eva, answer me. And remember your safe words.” I do remember. And I remember how beautifully he took care of me last night, when I got into trouble, was struggling. I relax, feel myself go limp across his knees again.
    “Yes, twenty will be fine.” My voice is quiet, but strong now. I’m ready.
    “Pull your panties down when you’re ready.” His voice is gentle now and I concentrate on breathing slowly, steadily, as he taught me last night to control my panic. I reach behind me and slide my panties down across my hips to my knees. He leans down to remove them fully, and I realise this is because they were preventing my thighs from parting. He clearly has plans, and I think I’m going to approve of those plans.
    I brace myself for the first blow to fall, but instead I feel a strange scratching, first across my shoulders then moving down my back. It’s the vampire glove. Ah, this is new. I know those spikes are sharp and I have to lie still to avoid being cut. The scratching continues, tugging at my sensitised skin, down to my buttocks. I sigh in lazy pleasure as he gently but rhythmically squeezes the smooth flesh, kneading it with his harsh, spiky palms. The feeling is exquisite, the tingle of danger lending a dark edge to the rich, comfortable warmth of the sensuous massage.
    I am floating on a sea of sensation, drifting, and taken completely, cruelly unawares as out of nowhere his hand strikes my bottom hard. The glove off now, he lands another stinging blow. Christ, he’s really going for it this time. I bite my lip as the blows continue, each one building on the ones before it, the pain radiating outwards. My tender cheeks are on fire and I am jerking under each blow, trying to relax into the pain. I manage to remain silent, my fist pressed against my mouth. I count the strokes, ten, then fifteen. My