Page 36 of Punishing Penelope
“You’re drunk! Get the fuck out of here. You can’t do this. I’ll report your ass. You’ll be the one losing your job after this, Peter! You don’t get to silence the free press. We’re not living in a banana republic.”
I push her against the post hard and grab a chunk of her hair.
“I think, my dear, you’re not getting the picture here. You are in deep shit.”
“I think… my dear, we have enough shit on each other after this. Let me go… now, and we’ll forget this ever happened.”
“Who do you think the guys are gonna believe? Their partner or the piranha who’s made it her mission to shame us for risking our lives for you every day? Think a little for once.”
She has no comeback. How could she? Closing her eyes, she leans her forehead against the wood, her lips moving. I can’t hear what she says, but I can’t imagine it’s something I care to hear. I decide to soften her up. It won’t hurt to have her more pliable and more attentive to my demands.
“I’ll go chill and watch a movie while you cool off. Don’t go anywhere.” I smile, which probably doesn’t look pleasant, and stalk out of the room.
“Hey! Don’t leave me here! What’re you doing?”
Stopping, I turn and dart back inside. One hand in her hair, I push her forward until she bends over, and her delicious, skirt-clad little ass juts out. I smack it. Hard. Once. Twice. Again. Again.
Her protests turn to squeals, then to whimpers as she tap dances, trying to dodge my thorough spanking. I stop at twenty-five. My palm stings, but that’s nothing compared to how bad her ass cheeks must burn.
Pulling her up, I take in her flushed face and the tears that glitter on her eyelashes.
“Are you gonna be a good girl for me and stop yelling?”
Penelope glares, murder in her eyes, then twists her lip and spits in my face. Her immediate look of terror is as real as it gets.
I raise my eyebrows and wipe off the saliva while I ponder how to up this game. She’s clearly not even beginning to get the message.
Closet pulled open, I rummage until I find the spreader bar and the ankle cuffs. I hold it up before her, then throw it on the bed. Grabbing her neck, I press my lips against hers in a brief rough kiss, tearing free before she has the time to react. The red on her cheeks deepens, and her next intake of air is shaky. Fire fills my veins, and my cock hardens until it feels as if it will burst through my pants.
Fuck no. I do not want to fuck Penelope Wilder. Even though it’s exactly what it looks like.
I grab the cuffs and secure one around each ankle, then grab the bar and kick her legs farther apart.
“This might be a bit uncomfortable, honey.”
She steps over my foot and tries to clench her legs together. How cute. I fasten one side of the bar, decrease its length, then force her legs apart again and quickly hook the other end.
“Peter… please, stop.” It sounds like she fighting not to cry, and it’s music to my ears.
“How’s it going with the career change?”
She’s silent.
Yeah, thought so. I lengthen the bar, and she doesn’t stand a chance. Her legs are forced apart, more and more until there’s a soft tearing and the back seam of her skirt rips open.
“Oops.” I increase the bar length the last few intensely uncomfortable inches and lock it in place.
Right before me, silky nylon stockings that end mid-thigh and clasps to a cream-colored satin garter. I knew it. I can’t help myself.
I can’t.
She’s so much woman. I ached for her for years, an ache that turned to hate, but no matter the emotion, she has occupied my mind for almost a decade.
I put my palm on the inside of her thigh and stroke upward until the nylon ends and warm, smooth skin greets me.
“Peter,” she gasps and tries to move away, but it’s a feeble attempt, only wiggling her ass way too enticingly.
I move higher, slowly. I just want one touch. One light tough, that’s all. One sample after all these years. Her pussy radiates heat through her panties, and I haven’t even reached it yet. When