Taming Emma by Natasha Knight

you.”
    She studied him, strangely enough, understanding his words. “Ok,” she said. “Are you going to punish me?”
    “Most definitely,” he said.
    Heat flushed her body and she was suddenly sweating. Without a word, she reached for the hem of her t-shirt.
    “Oh, and one more thing,”
    “Yes?”
    “You’ll call me Master. Is that clear?”
    She raised her eyebrows.
    “Clear?”
    “Will Sir work?”
    “No, it won’t. Try it. I want to hear the word on those pretty lips.”
    She only stared, even as every fiber in her body wanted nothing more than to comply, to please him.
    “Go on,” he said, coming closer.
    She didn’t move back and he stood inches from her. Bringing his lips to hers, he took her mouth in a sensual kiss that left her panting when his lips left hers and trailed kisses along her cheek and up to her ear. “Master,” he whispered, licking once. “Go on.”
    “Master,” she said, her body tingling with electricity at the word, the meaning behind it, her submission.
    “Good girl.” His mouth touched her ear when he spoke, sending a shiver down her spine. “Now, naked and on your knees there,” he said, pointing to a spot.
    She didn’t speak but did as he said, stripping off her clothes while he fiddled with some equipment. Once her clothes were neatly folded and out of the way, she knelt, knees wide and her hands set on her thighs. It felt right to be here like this, with him, again.
    “God,” he said, snapping the first photo. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
    The camera snapped and she remained still, her gaze lowered, her mind already retreating into her private cave.
    It was as if he read her thoughts. “Look at me,” he said.
    She couldn’t at first, her head feeling too heavy to lift and words too thick to move farther than her throat.
    “Emma,” he coaxed. “Look at me.”
    She turned her face slowly up. His expression had changed; he looked full of energy, alive, hot enough to burn.
    “What are you afraid of?” he asked, setting the camera aside and squatting so he was at almost eye level with her.
    “I don’t know,” she answered.
    When she dropped her gaze, he turned her face back to his with a hand on her chin.
    “Truth,” he said.
    One tear traced a slow path down her face.
    “There is nothing ugly or dirty in truth. Let me see you.”
    She searched his eyes, wanting nothing more than to give him what he wanted. She only knew one way that that would be possible. “Punish me,” she said. “Hard.”
    Now it was his turn to study her. She kept her gaze level with his. This was what she wanted, what she needed. For a moment, she wasn’t sure he would give it to her, but then, his expression changed. He decided and every hair on her body stood on end in response.
    He straightened to his full height, his eyes a little harder now. She watched him strip off his shirt and set it aside. He moved to the large trunk against the wall, opened it, and returned a few moments later, riding crop in hand.
    “Stand up.”
    She heard her own heartbeat while she rose slowly to her feet. He was going to give her just what she asked for. His hand tightened around the crop while she watched. Her eyes grew wide when he tapped it against his leg and when she turned her gaze to his, it took all she had not to step back.
    “You’re pale,” he said, touching her face.
    “You like this,” she replied, forcing herself to remain still as he brushed her hair over her shoulders.
    “Very much.” He brought his lips to hers and his free hand first caressed, then pinched one of her nipples.
    She made no sound but her body trembled, her mouth opening to receive him.
    He didn’t pull her nearer, but only kissed, and she knew he was taking pleasure. This was for him; only the punishment would be for her.
    “Tell me,” he whispered against her mouth, still kissing her, still holding her to him. “How many strokes before you cry, Emma?”
    She made a sound, her body wanting him,