Bound to You by Bethany Kane

the cane. He stroked her bottom and the tops of her thighs with the leather covered wood.
    “Now it tingles. I think . . . I think I might deserve another stroke, Sir,” she said cautiously.
    “You bad girls always do ask for it,” he said, a smile in his voice. He caned her bottom again and she cried out at the quick pain and then the burn. His hand was immediately there, his fingertips seeking out the heated skin where the cane had just struck.
    “All indications are that your punishment is nearly over,” he murmured. “I think four more swats with my hand and then one final one with the cane will be all for now, but let me check the other indicators.”
    “Other indicators?” she asked shakily.
    “Yes,” he said with mock somberness. She felt his hand move between her thighs.
    “Oh,” she cried out sharply when he plunged his middle finger straight into her pussy.
    “Hmmm, yes,” he murmured as he kept his finger inserted and Jennifer nearly had a heart attack. “The wetness and heat I feel here certainly indicate things are coming to an end,” he said. His voice sounded thick and gruff and not quite so droll and playful as it had a moment ago.
    She whimpered in disappointment when he slid his finger out of her pussy. “Stand up for a moment,” he commanded.
    Jennifer straightened, sensing him standing just inches away. She wanted to press her naked body against him, feel his heat and strength, but forced herself to stand still in the darkness. He suddenly pressed his fingertips to one of her nipples and rubbed.
    “Oh, Sir,” she cried shakily. He was rubbing the warm, slick fluid from her pussy onto her nipple, circling and tweaking and rhythmically pinching very lightly. He must have set down his cane because suddenly he was agitating both nipples at once. “Why do you have to punish me so?”
    “Because you’re bad and sweet and lovely,” he said into the darkness. She bit her lip as he shaped her breasts to his palms and squeezed her lasciviously . . . lovingly. “Jennifer?”
    “Yes?”
    “The only way I’m going to stimulate you after I finish punishing you is on your pretty nipples. Do you want to come that way?”
    “Yes,” she said fervently.
    “Then bend back over,” he said.
    Jennifer bent. John pressed close to her. She felt his cock pressing against her hip as he smoothed his hand over her bottom. Suddenly, he hissed a curse and backed away.
    “John?” she asked. “I mean . . . Sir?”
    “It’s okay. I’m right here,” he said a second later, coming back against her. Her eyes sprang wide, but she didn’t register the darkness. Instead, her entire focus was on the feeling of John’s exposed erection. He pressed it between himself and her hip. He obviously had just pulled it out through his fly, because she also felt a hard button next to her skin.
    She smiled. “Is this a routine part of punishments, Sir?”
    “No. But I do unorthodox things in . . . strained situations.”
    She broke her character and laughed softly. She thought she heard him chuckle, too, but then his hand landed on her bottom with a taut smack.
    “Oooh,” she cried out in surprise.
    He rubbed her bottom while he reached beneath her body with his other hand. Her pussy clamped tight, aching to be possessed, when he filled his palm with one of her breasts and began to caress her nipple with his thumb and forefinger. She groaned and arched her back, pushing her breast further against him, greedy for more stimulation. He spanked her again, harder this time. His cock lurched against her hip at the loud cracking sound of skin against skin. His palm struck again, and he pinched her nipple.
    He opened his palm beneath the suspended nipple and rubbed it briskly, back and forth, back and forth, while he spanked her again.
    “Oh, no,” she moaned. “Please. Please make it end.”
    “The only thing left is for you to take the cane one more time.”
    She whimpered. He left her side and she knew