Page 16 of Sherwood
He laughed again, a real one that shook his body and filled the room. When he laughed like this, his entire face was transformed, and I was startled by how handsome he was. He’d been good-looking before, of course, but with that wide, boyish grin and the faintly etched lines fanning from the corners of his eyes, he was utterly arresting. The kind of man you’d stop on the street to look at. The kind of man you’d throw away your dignity to hear even one word from.
“Up on the spanking bench, sweet one,” he said, still smiling. He didn’t answer my question, because he didn’t have to.
The command was its own answer.
I obeyed him willingly—feeling nervousness chased with excitement chased with something I couldn’t entirely name but that was as close torightnessas I’d ever felt in my life—and knelt on the padded leather bench, making sure to kneel so that my dress could be shoved up around my waist whenever he wanted.
“Normally,” Rafe said as he approached the bench, “I’d have you strip for me. I’d enjoy it, and I think you would too, given what you told me earlier today and where we are in the club.”
He was right. Exhibitionism was very high on my list of desires, as was being shared, and up here in the castle, I’d be on display to the entire club.
I shivered at the thought.
“But what you’re wearing tonight…” His palm skated up my thigh to my ass, lingering over the garters before following them up to the belt around my waist. “I enjoy it very much. And I suppose it would be best for us to start slowly anyway.”
His hand found the ridge of my spine and stalked it up to the spot between my shoulder blades, where he slowly but inexorably pushed me down so that my stomach and chest were flat against the rest of the spanking bench.
The sheer fabric of the dress teased me with every waft of air and stir of movement as he left the bench and strolled over to a rack of floggers and paddles. With my head turned to the side, I could see the lines of his arm and torso as he touched one thing, and then another, and finally selected something with as much surety of motion as a master sculptor reaching for a certain chisel, or a painter reaching for the right brush. When he walked back to me, I saw what it was. A wide paddle, the flat part covered in a bright purple fur.
Fur.
It looked like a joke, a gag gift. Like something made for tickling. I knew there were people into kinky tickling, butstill.
“What do you say if it gets to be too much, sweet one?” Rafe asked, stroking the paddle over the back of my exposed calf. Itdidtickle a little, but in a good way, and I felt the concurrent swells of relief and disappointment.
“Red,” I replied, trying to remind myself that it would be good to go easy at first. Not that Lox had gone easy on me, that afternoon. She hadn’t had a spanking bench or a rack of toys or anything other than the force of her want, and she hadn’t needed it. She’d ruined me with nothing more than her bare hands in my hair.
“We’ll start with ten, I think,” he said as he gently—almost reverently—lifted the skirt of my dress and draped it over my ass. The fur paddle dangled by my face, as soft and fuzzy as a teddy bear. “And remember that you can use youryellowwhenever you need.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem,” I mumbled without thinking, and then Rafe made a noise that was very tut-tut-y and British.
“Cheeky girl,” he said, but he didn’t sound irritated or offended. He soundedamused. He sounded like he was already having a great time.
The first swat came with no warning, and it was as mild as I’d expected it to be. Still Rafe paused and ran his hand over my ass, as if consoling me, checking in on me. And then the fuzzy paddle hit again, over the spot where my panties covered my skin, and it still felt like being spanked with a doll’s pillow. But again he paused, again he caressed me.
And then another swat—pause, check—and then another.
It should have been silly—and maybe it still was—but it began to feel soothing after the third or fourth swat, like being patted to sleep, and his calloused hands over my skin felt…incredible. Wonderful. Warm and large, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
And slowly, gradually, they began to caress not only the spots the paddle had struck, but the outside of my hips, the lines of the garter belt around my waist. Everywhere but where I was beginning to need him the most.
“Ten,” counted Rafe after the last one. “How are you doing, sweet one? Do you need a break?”
It would have been rude to laugh, so I didn’t. But I did say, “I’m doing fine, sir. Let’s keep going.”
“As you wish,” he said, and I heard him lift his arm behind me for another swat.
Crack.
The paddle came down like a star crashing to Earth, burning and cracking its way across my backside as it landed, and a yelp tore out of my throat as I arched off the bench, my hands flying to cover my ass.
Just like before, Rafe paused, his hand running soothingly over my skin. “Still doing okay?” he asked, and there was no hiding the amusement in his voice now. He sounded like he was very close to laughing.
He turned the handle of the paddle so that I could see the side he’d just hit me with. Instead of fur, this side was made of something flat and rubbery looking. “Silicone,” he explained. “Very stingy. Makes a nice noise.”
I twisted so I could glare at him. “You tricked me.”
“I did,” he said, not sounding the least bit sorry. “It was very fun.”
