Read Online What About Love (Club Decadence Book 6) by Maddie Taylor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maddie Taylor
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thigh, followed by Dan’s scolding words. “Curb that tongue or you’ll become acquainted with my definitions of moderate and severe before you’re ready for them, girl.”
Angie swallowed, her throat gone dry as a wave of approval swept through the observers. As a Dominant, he couldn’t let her sarcasm slide, she realized that. She also decided that Dan had missed his calling, he would have killed on Broadway the way he played to an audience.
“I beg your pardon, Sir. Please disregard the Grand Canyon remark.”
He laughed outright this time, as did the highly amused crowd. “Angie, my dear, you are precious and almost make me forget the task at hand. But soon, you’ll know the difference between a spanking for punishment and one given for pleasure. Mind you, that first swat didn’t count because you forgot to.”
Dutifully, she remembered to call out a number as the next stroke fell, and the next. By the time he’d administered five with the paddle, moving it all over her tenderized butt, she’d figured out the difference Dan had alluded to.
“Good girl,” he encouraged as Angie yelped out the numbers. She forgot on stroke number six and again on nine, so when she called ten, it was actually twelve in total. He paused there and she felt his hand cover her cheeks, one at a time.
“Nice and warm. You’re doing so well. Are you sure you haven’t been over a dominant’s knee before?” He laughed at the vehement shake of her head. “I ask because even though I’m going easy, many newbies would be in tears by now or begging my forgiveness and asking me to stop. I’ve had a few, not quite sure what to expect from the start, who screamed red at the top of their lungs at this point and were ready to go back to their vanilla world for good.” He patted her lace-covered cheek. “Not my intrepid, Angela. Pick up at eleven.”
She barely managed to keep up her count as the damnable paddle descended for another short set of five. It was certainly an effective measure for ending any sass or snarky remarks because it was all she could do to breathe, let alone blurt out a number, as her punishment continued.
“For the last five, the panties are coming down.”
Murmurs of appreciation behind her didn’t remind Angie she was being watched. She’d been fully cognizant of the observers the entire time, ever since he’d led her behind the velvet ropes. There had been a half dozen members lined up at the time. The number had doubled in the few seconds it had taken him to adjust the bench to his height. By the time she’d knelt on the padded knee rest, her black lace covered behind aimed at the spectators, they numbered four deep.
Approval, as well as excitement, rippled through the onlookers as he peeled down the lace. She felt cool air on her fiery cheeks and on the dampness that had trickled onto her inner thighs. Her face flamed with a heat equaling her ass knowing everyone would see she was aroused.
“Five more and you’re done, darlin’. Don’t forget to count.”
Against bare skin, the leather paddle connected with a much louder thwap. The sting more than doubled. Unable to hold back any longer, each blow was followed by a squeak or a sucking sound as she drew air into her seizing lungs.
“Sixteen, Sir,” she panted.
Another thwap a bit harder.
“Ooh, ow! Seventeen,” she cried.
The next swat carried more muscle and stung like blue blazes.
“Motherfucker,” she cursed to the accompaniment of gasps and low chuckles.
“Angela,” he barked.
“Eighteen, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”
“That one will be repeated.” And it was, landing identically in the same spot with the same fire as its predecessor.
“Eighteen number two, Sir,” she ground out.
Outright laughs followed her response.
“Don’t give me justification for eighteen number three or four, sub.”
Another fell and she counted nineteen without the snark.
“Good girl,” her pretend Dom murmured with approval, which made her
Angie swallowed, her throat gone dry as a wave of approval swept through the observers. As a Dominant, he couldn’t let her sarcasm slide, she realized that. She also decided that Dan had missed his calling, he would have killed on Broadway the way he played to an audience.
“I beg your pardon, Sir. Please disregard the Grand Canyon remark.”
He laughed outright this time, as did the highly amused crowd. “Angie, my dear, you are precious and almost make me forget the task at hand. But soon, you’ll know the difference between a spanking for punishment and one given for pleasure. Mind you, that first swat didn’t count because you forgot to.”
Dutifully, she remembered to call out a number as the next stroke fell, and the next. By the time he’d administered five with the paddle, moving it all over her tenderized butt, she’d figured out the difference Dan had alluded to.
“Good girl,” he encouraged as Angie yelped out the numbers. She forgot on stroke number six and again on nine, so when she called ten, it was actually twelve in total. He paused there and she felt his hand cover her cheeks, one at a time.
“Nice and warm. You’re doing so well. Are you sure you haven’t been over a dominant’s knee before?” He laughed at the vehement shake of her head. “I ask because even though I’m going easy, many newbies would be in tears by now or begging my forgiveness and asking me to stop. I’ve had a few, not quite sure what to expect from the start, who screamed red at the top of their lungs at this point and were ready to go back to their vanilla world for good.” He patted her lace-covered cheek. “Not my intrepid, Angela. Pick up at eleven.”
She barely managed to keep up her count as the damnable paddle descended for another short set of five. It was certainly an effective measure for ending any sass or snarky remarks because it was all she could do to breathe, let alone blurt out a number, as her punishment continued.
“For the last five, the panties are coming down.”
Murmurs of appreciation behind her didn’t remind Angie she was being watched. She’d been fully cognizant of the observers the entire time, ever since he’d led her behind the velvet ropes. There had been a half dozen members lined up at the time. The number had doubled in the few seconds it had taken him to adjust the bench to his height. By the time she’d knelt on the padded knee rest, her black lace covered behind aimed at the spectators, they numbered four deep.
Approval, as well as excitement, rippled through the onlookers as he peeled down the lace. She felt cool air on her fiery cheeks and on the dampness that had trickled onto her inner thighs. Her face flamed with a heat equaling her ass knowing everyone would see she was aroused.
“Five more and you’re done, darlin’. Don’t forget to count.”
Against bare skin, the leather paddle connected with a much louder thwap. The sting more than doubled. Unable to hold back any longer, each blow was followed by a squeak or a sucking sound as she drew air into her seizing lungs.
“Sixteen, Sir,” she panted.
Another thwap a bit harder.
“Ooh, ow! Seventeen,” she cried.
The next swat carried more muscle and stung like blue blazes.
“Motherfucker,” she cursed to the accompaniment of gasps and low chuckles.
“Angela,” he barked.
“Eighteen, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”
“That one will be repeated.” And it was, landing identically in the same spot with the same fire as its predecessor.
“Eighteen number two, Sir,” she ground out.
Outright laughs followed her response.
“Don’t give me justification for eighteen number three or four, sub.”
Another fell and she counted nineteen without the snark.
“Good girl,” her pretend Dom murmured with approval, which made her
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