Page 36 of Over the Line

“Repeat what I said.”

She looked over her shoulder.

Gently, he tucked strands of her hair behind her ears. “You said, Sir, that I should keep my legs together.” How could he be so perfect? There was a tenderness in his tone that was at odds with his stance and the fact that he held the punishing wooden brush. “You’ll start at the bottom and work your way up. If I get out of position, I should get back in as soon as I can.”

“Close enough.” He lowered his hand.

The first spank seared. The second was a lot more powerful. The third, on a fleshier part of her leg, was higher and harder.

He knew how to give her what she wanted. How to inflict pain with deliberate intensity. How to keep her guessing.

The one under her buttocks forced her to lift up. She closed her eyes, waited for the pain to settle then re-gripped the tub. While he wasn’t letting her be in charge, he allowed her to set the pace.

“Last one.”

She tightened her cheeks, expecting it to blaze. She waited and waited. But it didn’t come. Finally, it dawned on her. He was being patient while she did as he instructed.

With great determination, she loosened her muscles. Only then did he lay the brush to her.

She sucked a breath through her teeth.

“Now your ass is a pretty shade of pink.”

“It matches my pussy then, Sir.”

“So it does.” He helped her stand and turn around. “Cool shower or a warm one?”

“One without bristles,” she said, dubiously eyeing the brush.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have let me know how much you dislike it. I may keep one in every room.”

She considered a snappy comeback then thought better of it. Her rear burned. She wasn’t sure her skin would survive anything more. “A warm one, Sir.”

He moved across the bathroom to turn on the shower. After checking the temperature twice, he looked at her calculatingly before lowering the adjustable showerhead. “Your shower, ma’am. Feel free to use anything in there.”

“This is luxurious,” she said, stepping into the oversize glass enclosure.

At her condo, the showerhead was small and attached to the wall above the tile. She spent most of her time moving around beneath the pelting water, trying to rinse off soap or shampoo, and catching a chill wherever the uneven spray wasn’t hitting.

“Can I scrub your back?” he offered.

“Hell, no,” she muttered.

“I didn’t quite hear you.”

That had been her intention. “I said this is perfect as it is, Sir.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Steam billowed in the stall. She watched him move around the bathroom, clearly comfortable with his nakedness.

“Washcloth?”

“Yes, please.”

He handed one in, along with a fresh bar of soap.

“I figured you’d want something unscented.”