The Doctor and the Naughty Girl Page 11

  You’re a moron, Dane.

  Then he pulled away, letting her go, but staying close, their noses almost touching. Amity’s cheeks were flushing, and she licked at her lower lip, her wide-eyed gaze locked with his.

  “You sure you don’t have a date after work?”

  She shook her head slowly.

  The front door opened, a man and a women walking in, the woman barking something at her frowning companion.

  “Well, you do now,” Dane said, his voice almost a growl. “After closing, I want you in the conference room.”

  * * *

  She hadn’t even closed the door behind her when his hand enveloped her upper arm, yanking her into the room. Dane closed and locked the door behind her.

  “Come on, time to talk,” he said, marching her from the door, pulling up on her arm as if she were a little girl, then shoving her into a seat at the table.

  “Dane, what the hell!”

  She knew she’d pay for it, but the words just blurted before she had a chance to shut her mouth. His grip hurt!

  Rather than move around to the other side of the table to take a seat himself, Dane simply stood there, a mere foot away, glaring down at her from his great height. The black button-down shirt he wore lovingly accentuated every plane of his broad shoulders, every bulge of muscle of his strong chest. The hint of five o’clock shadow shaded his square jaw. She couldn’t help but wonder how its roughness would feel against her own skin.

  “What the hell was that this morning?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She thrust her chin up, meeting his gaze. “I was late, but it wasn’t my fault. I already told you that.”

  “You’ve been doing so well, Amity. And now this.” His jaw clenched. “I want to know why.”

  “Why do you want to know?” She crossed her arms. “You’d still think it was my fault, no matter what I told you. And you still wouldn’t do anything about it.”

  Amity, don’t push him.

  She had to though. This was part of this… whatever the fuck this was. The arrangement. Yes, she feared being punished, but things were evolving into a lot more than being disciplined for her misdeeds. When he’d kissed her out there, she’d been shocked to the marrow of her bones. It was as if that one deed had confirmed for her what she’d been feeling for weeks, what kept her distracted during the day, awake at night. This was very, very sexual—for both of them. Even though she still had no idea what she was really doing, she wanted more.

  She wanted more of him.

  “You’re confused about something.” He stepped closer, so close she could feel the heat of his body. She wanted nothing more than to hug herself tight to him, to let him do his worst.

  “I’m not confused about anything. You’re not holding up your end of the bargain, Dane.” Heat prickled at the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t let her gaze waver. “You’ve asked me to do this, to obey you, to let you help me. And I have. But when you don’t… do what you’re supposed to do, it’s all bullshit. It’s all wrong.”

  His gaze softened at that, and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “So that’s it.”

  “What’s it?”

  Amity knew she was digging the hole deep, but desperate times called for desperate measures. If she had to push him, then so be it. She was a tough girl. She could take it.

  His hands closed upon her upper arms, tight, and he yanked her to her feet as if she were light as a feather, his face bearing down on hers. His warm breath brushed her cheek.

  “Before you came in here, I’d resolved myself to just lecturing you, maybe writing you up. Then sending you on your way. But seeing you like this? I was wrong.” He kissed her again, savagely this time, crushing his mouth to hers, nipping her lip as he pulled away, growling. “I know what you need now. But first thing’s first.”

  He spun her around so fast, it disoriented her for a moment, her hair flying in her face. He kicked her chair away, the thud against the carpet as it toppled over making her jerk. Her thighs pressed to the edge of the table as he crowded up against her back. His hands reached around her, clasping her throat in a firm grip, enough to feel the pressure against her pulse. His other hand took hold of her breast, squeezing cruelly, making Amity hiss at the sharp pain.

  “This is your last chance, Amity. If you think this is what you want, this is the last chance you’ve got to step away from the edge. Say the word now and this ends—all of it. Last chance, girl. I mean it.”

  Her belly tightened each time his thumb coursed over the hard point of her nipple, prominent even through the fabric of her top.

  I hope you know what you’re doing.

  She kept quiet, feeling the quickening beat of her pulse against the hand clasping her throat. She looked back at him, studying those dark eyes. Then she gave him the tiniest of nods, her heart in her throat.

  His hand released her throat, then twisted in the hair at the back of her head, wrenching her back, her face toward the ceiling. His whisper tickled the hair at her temple.

  “Good choice.”

  Dane pushed her over, his heavy hand pressing her to the table so hard she let out a gasp.

  “Lay your hands on the table. Above your head. More.” He pressed her down harder, and she squeaked, stretching her arms along the tabletop. She laid her cheek against the cold polished wood.

  “Don’t move,” he murmured as he worked at the button of her pants, his other hand still holding her down.

  Oh, my god.

  “What are you… doing?”

  “Keep that smart mouth shut, Amity. I don’t want to hear anything out of it except ‘Yes, sir’ or ‘No, sir,’ you got me?”

  A shudder ran through her body, her nipples hardening against the hard tabletop. “Yes, sir.”

  He loosened the tight slacks but couldn’t move them down much with one hand. He leaned over her, the bulge of his erection against her bottom.

  “You move from that table and you’ll regret it. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Her voice was a frightened murmur.

  Then he had both hands hooked in her pants, working them down, her naked bottom jiggling mortifyingly as he bared it. He stopped, snapping one of her garters.

  “Forget something this morning?”

  “I don’t… no, sir.”

  She’d chosen not to wear panties, not even thinking about it consciously as she’d dressed that morning. She knew if she thought about it too much, too directly, she’d lose her nerve. So she’d done it as if on autopilot, hoping it was pleasing to him—even as she had no idea how he might react.

  “Interesting,” he said, fingers tracing the line of each garter down to the tops of her stockings. He worked her slacks the rest of the way down her legs, pulling them from each heel. His foot tapped at the insides of her feet.

  “Wider.”

  Amity swallowed hard, moving her legs shoulder width apart.

  “Straighten your legs now. Hollow your back, and turn those heels out.”

  Her cheek burned hot against the tabletop as she obeyed, realizing he’d be able to see her arousal, the undeniable truth of what his harsh treatment was doing to her.

  Fingers played along the hot wetness of her slit, then spread her buttocks wide, making her whimper. Nobody had ever done that to her before, and her face flamed as she felt the weight of his gaze on that most private of places. A finger touched her bottom hole and she yelped.

  “Oh, please…”

  “Shh, relax,” he said, his voice thick. His finger circled the sensitive flesh of her anus, the tip worrying the opening gently. “Pretty little ass, and all on display for me too. Your pussy is so wet, Amity, you’re practically dripping.” His fingers slipped between the lips of her sex, gathering the damning evidence. “I think someone likes this.”

  His fingers smeared her wetness down the inside of her thigh as if to mark her, shame her with the liquid evidence of her lust. He gathered more of her juices and spread them up into the cleft of her bottom, the moisture rubbed onto her bottom hole.

  “You thought you’d be late today on purpose, force me to spank you. Is that it?”

  “No… sir.”

  “Don’t lie to me. You’re dressed like a slut, garter belt and stockings without panties. Not really normal work attire, is it?” He leaned an elbow onto her back, his weight pinning her fast to the table. His hard hand took up one of her bottom cheeks, kneading it firmly, as if testing the pliancy of her flesh. “So I’ll ask you again. Did you have a date tonight, or did you wear this for me?”

  “You,” she whispered, her cheeks blushing so hot they almost hurt.

  “Louder, Amity,” he said, with a warning squeeze to her bottom.

  “I wore it for you, sir!”

  For a moment he said nothing, his hand stroking her bottom possessively, her body trembling more with each second. Dane stood up, patting her hip.

  “Don’t move.”

  Then he was gone, the door closing behind him.

  Amity tried not to visualize how she must look. Her broad bottom bare, vulnerable, her high heels canting her hips up as if in invitation, her spread legs obscenely displaying her pussy, wet for the man she increasingly thought of as sir.

  She yelped as something cold and hard pressed against her bottom. She hadn’t even heard him come back in the room.

  Oh, my God—his paddle.

  She’d never been paddled before, and the unknown nature of it just spiraled her fear—and her twisted fascination—still higher.

  “I shouldn’t give you what you wanted,” he said, his voice the calm before the storm. “But I can’t let your behavior slide. You need consistency and discipline—and someone who won’t play your games. When I said you’d be punished next time you were late, I meant it.”

  The paddle cracked down across the middle of her ass, and she lunged against the table, the immediate hot pain almost surprising a scream from her.

  Holy shit, that hurts!

  His hand pressed down on her lower back, holding her. “When I say you’re to be punished for something—” another stroke landed just below the first, another burst of fire, “—when and where and how you’re to be punished is up to me. Not you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir. Ow!”

  A third shot, the hardest yet, cracked across the lower part of her bottom, seeming to lift both buttocks at once and sending the flesh bounding before she clenched tight, the hurt sinking in deep.

  “Jesus Christ,” she blurted out, grasping the far edge of the table now, trying to stay still as he’d commanded.

  “Watch that mouth, girl.” The paddle circled over her well-roasted buttocks, then tapped at the sensitive juncture where they met her thighs.

  “Oh, not there!”

  Two strokes landing in quick succession, one to each thigh, and she yelped at each one, the hot pain even worse than the strokes across her ass.

  “Be quiet, Amity.” Another press of the paddle across the as-yet pristine upper slopes of her buttocks. “You’ve earned this, and I want you to learn from it. When I give you a rule, or an order, you’re to do what? Always?”

  Her bottom and thighs were already throbbing, and at first she didn’t realize he’d asked her a question.

  Two taps of the paddle against her buttocks brought her back. “I asked you a question, girl.”

  “Obey! I’m supposed to… obey.”

  It was hard to speak the words, the humiliation burning bright, agreeing to subject herself to him, but that wasn’t all either. This was what she wanted, though it wasn’t until right at that moment that she’d understood it. She wanted someone who wouldn’t put up with her shit, wouldn’t ignore the behavior that even now, she didn’t always feel like she could totally control—or at least couldn’t quite explain the reasons why she engaged in it. She knew that what he said was true. He really was looking out for her, trying to help her improve, yet rather than accept it, rather than try to do better, she’d resisted like a petulant child. And now she was paying the consequences.

  Painful as those consequences were, and more so by the minute, she knew now that that’s what she wanted, what she needed. Consequences for her behavior. She needed a will that would not bend to hers—a man with a will strong enough to bend hers to his.

  Two more quick strikes followed, both hitting the exact same spot on her right cheek, and she keened, the first tear running down her cheek.

  Fuck, that burns!

  He clasped her tighter, holding her wagging hips still, and smacked both her thighs, two hard blows on each leg that had her openly weeping. She couldn’t help but lift one leg, vainly trying to protect her vulnerable flesh. Her bottom and thighs were seething now, the pain risen to a level that blocked most everything else out. All except that calm, but stern, voice behind her.

  “I expect obedience from you—and eventually, I’ll expect submission too.” The edge of the paddle pressed itself between the sodden lips of her pussy, and she hollowed her back, opening her thighs wider.

  Oh, yes, please. Please…

  “But when you flounce in here—late—dressed like a slut, tempting me, displaying this wet cunt and trying to get me to give you what you want? That’s not obedience, and it’s damned sure not submission either. That’s a bad girl trying to get her way, to call the shots.”

  She tempted him! She smiled through her tears.

  The hard edge of the paddle pressed against her clit then, and she groaned, the sensation bliss and pain all at once. “Do you get to call the shots, Amity? Ever?”

  “No, sir,” she said, her voice breaking.

  “That’s right.” The paddle stroked up and down through her slit, rubbing her clit until her hips began to buck. “This paddling is going to help you remember that.”

  She almost pleaded with him when he took the paddle away. So close!

  Then the blows came down hard and fast, seemingly at random. He’d smack her all over her ass, growling at her to stay still, to relax her bottom. Then he’d paddle her, repeatedly, in the same spot until she was rearing up, only to be pushed back down to the table top by that heavy hand at her back. Before long, she was crying hard, her face buried in her arms, tears pooling on the polished wood, the never-ending strokes seeming to merge into one continuous burst of fire across her ass.

  Finally, the paddle clattered to the table beside her, a palm caressing the burning flesh of her bottom, the other reaching up to gently stroke her hair.

  “Shh, I know it hurts, girl. Your paddling’s over now. Shh, it’s okay.”

  Amity slowly came down, her crying and hiccupping becoming silent tears and sniffles, her bottom a throbbing sea of heat that his cool hand tended, stroking her as he cooed at her, whispering soothing sounds above her. His hands moved to knead the tense muscles of her back, rucking up her top past the strap of her bra in order to massage the naked flesh. His touch eased down her back and he took her waist in both hands, the grip proprietary, possessive. She moaned as she felt the fabric of his slacks against her skin, the huge, hard bulge of his erection pressed to her soft, aching bottom. She couldn’t help but raise her hips, push back against him even as it awakened more pain in her well-paddled buttocks.

  “No, Amity. Be still now,” he murmured, the admonishment of his words betrayed by the fondness in his soft voice. “Now, I want you to listen to me, girl. When you’re ready, I want you to stand up and go put your nose in the corner for me. You need some time to think about this, about the kind of behavior I expect from you, and there’s no better place to do that thinking.”

  Then his touch was gone, and she was left with a dilemma; lie there with her reddened, throbbing ass on display, or walk to the corner… and stand there with her reddened, throbbing ass on display.

  Damn him.

  She pressed herself up from the table, her arms feeling like wet noodles, her hair plastered to her tear-soaked face. She couldn’t meet his gaze, at least not now. She felt like an out-of-control mess. She could feel the sticky runnels of mascara she was sure coated her cheeks. Choosing to wear makeup hadn’t been the smartest decision if she even suspected he was going to punish her. And she’d practically dared him to do it.

  “In the corner, girl.” She felt the heat of her bottom, craning her head back as she massaged the aching marks.

  “No rubbing,” he said, a note of amusement in his voice. “Come on. Nose in that corner.”

  She complied, her hands in tight fists at her sides. Her face flamed anew as she walked, the sky-high heels exaggerating the sway of her ass, her buttocks feeling swollen, leaden with pain. There was no graceful way to do it, so she toddled over to the corner, the currents of the air cool against her heated sex, her bottom jiggling the entire way, Dane watching her—and no doubt enjoying her distress—in silence.

  Bastard!

  Just the thought that he enjoyed her mortification had moisture beading between the lips of her pussy once more. Why did it turn her on that he enjoyed her embarrassment? Did he really enjoy it, or was he just savoring the color of her well-spanked ass? Probably both.

  She’d never understand men, especially dominant ones.

  Then she found herself staring into that hated corner once more, the clock on the wall above her ticking loudly.

  “Hands behind your head, Amity. You know the drill.”

  Slowly, she raised her hands, lacing her fingers together.

  A sharp slap sounded and a burst of fresh pain suffused her ass. His voice was right at her ear, so low she could barely hear it, more vibration she felt than audible sound.

  “Don’t stall. Get that nose right in there, girl.”

  She obeyed, knowing how he wanted her, the flush of heat at her face matching the renewed fire in her bottom.

  As she stood there, he paced behind her, close, the air currents from his movement washing over her scalded bottom cheeks. He paused to stroke and gently squeeze her bottom occasionally, a pleased sound from deep in his chest at her pained moan.

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