Free His Every Touch [The Complete Series] by Harriet Lovelace

Something dark
uncurled in her belly. Did she?

She decided to keep her mouth shut. Five with his
hand hadn't been too bad. Her ass was a bit tender now, but still less so than
her pussy.

“I think this calls for something other than my
hand.” He walked over to an antique wardrobe and unlocked it. His body blocked
its contents, but Courtney had a sinking feeling that she already knew what was
inside. When he turned back to her with a long, thin piece of wood, she knew
she was right.

“Besides.” His steps were slow and deliberate,
drawing out the tension. “My palm's a bit sore. Now, because this is your first
time, I'm going to give you a choice. Five strokes with the cane.” He slapped
the wood against his palm. “Or five strokes with my belt.” He ran his hand over
the buckle before dropping it to his crotch, massaging himself through the
material.

He wanted her to choose? How was she supposed to
answer? It wasn't like she'd done this before and knew how each would feel. Was
this some sort of test? If so, how was she supposed to pass? Wasn't he supposed
to tell her what to do? An idea sparked in her head. Desperately hoping she was
making the right choice, she said, “Whatever will please you, Sir.”

Vance blinked, a strange expression crossing his face
for just a brief moment before disappearing. He set down the cane and reached
for his belt buckle. He kept his eyes, now blazing blue fire, on her face, the
intensity making her want to look away, but she knew she wouldn't have dared,
even if she'd been able. As it was, his words froze her to the spot.

“Have you ever heard leather against flesh?” He
stepped closer to her. “It's different than any other sound. Almost like the
solid thump of a baseball into a glove. Somehow richer than a hand, softer than
a cane. It wraps around your flesh, an embrace, if you will. But what I like
the most about using a belt is the mental association.” He slowly pulled his
belt from the loops, the hiss of it sliding loud in the otherwise silent room.
“Now, whenever you see me wearing this belt, you'll remember the weight of it
on your body, the crack against your skin, how the warmth spread through every
cell.”

She swallowed hard, the hypnotic quality of his words
drawing her in, making her forget the sting of his hand, the nearly raw feeling
between her legs.

“And then there's the smell.” He made a loop and
wrapped it around his hand. “Experts say that scent is the most powerful memory
trigger. Expensive leather like this has a very distinctive smell.” He raised
the belt to his nose and took a deep breath. “You'll associate anything with
the same scent with this belt. You'll find yourself heating up, your pussy
getting wet, your clit throbbing. You'll have to bite your tongue to keep from
begging me to use it again, no matter where we are. You'll find yourself
fantasizing about me bending you over my desk, over the hood of my car. Pinning
you up against a wall in a bathroom, a changing room.”

He leaned down, holding the belt close to her face.
She didn't need to be told to breath it in. She'd always loved the smell of
leather and the idea that this scent would now trigger this memory, these
feelings, did things to her. Despite herself, she could feel a new wetness
between her thighs.

“On your feet,” Vance ordered.

She struggled to do as she was told, her muscles
protesting every movement, telling her that they didn't want to do anything
strenuous, not for another year at least. When she finally managed to get to
her feet, legs shaky, her face flamed as she felt her juices trickling down the
inside of her legs.

He ignored her embarrassment and took a step back.
“Stand behind the couch, hands on the back. I want your feet shoulder-length
apart and at least a foot from the couch.”

Each step sent a new sensation through her body. Her ass
was still warm from the previous spanking. The friction of her lower lips
rubbing together