Page 41 of Punishing Penelope
I rub a little firmer, and she bucks, meeting my hand.
“Had enough yet?”
“How the fuck do I even answer that?” Her voice is muted against the pillow.
A finger on her clit, slick with her juices, circles. Arching, a groan escapes her. I push a finger inside her tight, hot channel, eliciting a whimper from the beauty on my bed.
“Do you want me to stop?”
She clenches her thighs as tight as she can. I stand on my knees, force her legs apart, one of my knees between hers, locking her in place, then sink down to secure her position.
The view of her pussy and ass makes the blood in my veins pump ferociously. My cock tents my wet briefs, and I’m so hot for this woman, as if I’m that young virgin boy all again as if there’s never been anyone else.
I realize there hasn’t been. It’s always only been her.
Punish Penelope… what a joke. All I want is to conquer her again, this time on my terms and conditions, not letting her run off. She’s a sucker for adventure. I’ll give her one to last a lifetime.
Penelope
I’m an absolute mess. My butt is on fire—like it screams with pain—and still, I can’t seem to make myself tell Peter to fucking stop for real. Despite my whimpers, wails, and tears, I’ve never once told him to stop touching me.
Because I don’t want him to.
It’s insane.
I thought I enjoyed some spanking, but this isn’t spanking. It’s punishment. So, why does it turn me into a horny, desperate slut?
This isn’t only about me refusing to submit to his demands, even though there’ll be snow in hell before I stop writing about my passion projects. This is me wanting his fingers riiight there, right where I ache with need.
His hand, which can be so cruel, is tender as it strokes between my legs. He has me pinned down, one of his knees keeps one of my thighs in place, and he sits heavily on the other. I could probably squirm a lot more if I want to, even though I know I’m going nowhere.
For some unfathomable reason, I don’t. Instead, I chant to myself, touch me, touch me, touch me, you stupid, obnoxious, arrogant beast.
“You like me holding you down, don’t you, you little slut?”
He voices my own thoughts with frightening accuracy.
“You’re a dick!”
“You’ve got a foul mouth, Wilder.”
“Well, fuck you.”
Peter tuts, then he slaps my ass again. I cannot take any more spanking tonight. I can’t.
“God! What do you want?”
“You know what I want.”
“Peter, fuck’s sake, I don’t think you know what you want.”
His hand rests on my butt as the tingling from the slap mixes with the electrifying feeling of his skin on mine.
He strokes across stinging skin, making me hiss, then he lightly touches my pussy again, moves to my clit, dips in a bit between my folds, back out to circle my clit again with the perfect pressure only an experienced lover can manage.
Why? Why does jealousy surge through me at the thought of him having been with others? I don’t care. I shouldn’t care!
His pressure increases and a shameful moan escapes before I can stop it. My hips rock with his moves, and my body begs for him, for more of everything, as if I have no will of my own and no sense left.