Page 73 of Carter

“But we’ve only just gotten home and⁠—”

One of my hands lifts the hem of her skirt. The other lays a sharp smack on her heart-covered panties. “Now.”

She blushes and turns, her skirt flouncing, her hand rubbing at her bottom.

She’s behind the desk. I’m standing before it, watching.

She takes her time. She locks her gaze on mine. Slowly, ever so slowly, she crawls her upper body across the desk. Her top puckers, giving me a peek at her breasts in the yellow bra. My sword hangs from her neck, claiming her as mine. Her eyes are sultry and she licks her lips.

Naughty kitten.

I come around behind her. The muscles in her shoulders tense at my nearness. A shiver runs down her spine. I drop down into my large cushy office chair—the one on four wheels.

This is going to be fun.

Using the lever on the side, I adjust the seat so that my cock should line up perfectly with her sweet little cunt.

She’s already breathing heavy, just knowing what I’m about to do to her.

But let’s make this a little more interesting. I open the drawer to the left of her, the wood just brushing up against the fabric of her skirt as I do.

I find what I’m looking for.

My wooden straight edge.

What better way to warm up those little heart panties than a ruler?

She looks to her right. She sees what I hold. She shoots me a doe-eyed look and bites her lip.

But she doesn’t protest. If I had to guess, I’d say those little hearts were pretty damp right about now.

23

Sasha

My palms are sweaty against the desk. Who the hell has a ruler anymore? Though the second I saw it, I felt a gush.

Now he’s up from his chair. He flips my skirt up over my back. His fingers are in the waistband of my panties. He snaps the elastic but leaves them in place.

His hand pats my bottom. Goosebumps rise on my flesh. “Pretty panties,” he says, making me blush hotter than I already am.

I shift my weight to my other foot. I say, “You should like them—you picked them out after all. If you ask me I think I look better in black⁠—”

Snap! The ruler comes down across my ass, leaving a stinging line. It makes my pussy clench. He says, “No one asked you.”

I want to roll my eyes. But inside I’m smiling.

I adore letting him pick out my clothes when I am in the mood to play his good girl—right down to my underthings. I love the way his eyes light up when I choose to walk into the room wearing his latest purchase. The ritual makes me feel feminine and soft, not because I cannot dress myself, but because I like giving him that piece of control.

I never knew what to wear anyway. The girls always joked my uniform was black spandex.

I forget the stinging in my ass, because now, he’s behind me, pressing up against my legs. His big hand reaches around and slides down my button-down shirt. It’s hanging and gaping the way I’m lying over the desk and he has easy access to my breasts. He takes one in his hand and squeezes. His fingers dip into the cup of the fabric. He takes my nipple in between his fingers and pinches, hard.

Just as I’m about to protest, the ruler comes down with a sharp whack. The stinging sends me up on the tips of my ballet-slippered feet.

“Am I… are you… is this my punishment?” I squeak. If it is, it hurts so good. My pussy is throbbing and wet. I want him between my legs, rubbing all the tension away with his cock.

He laughs.