Untangle Me

Chapter 77

Giada

"Take off your dress," is the first thing Andrea says after he's closed our hotel room's door. One quick glance at the clock on the wall tells me it took him precisely nine minutes to get us here.

I don't say anything, simply hold his gaze and reach behind my back to drag open my zipper with shaky hands. I'm nearly trembling beneath his scrutiny, my body humming with anticipation and skin burning from the heat in his eyes.

When I slide the straps of my dress over my shoulder, letting it pool around my feet gracefully, I swear I can see Andrea shake too. His eyes roam over me, taking in each curve and crevice as if it were the first time. As he does so, his face gives nothing away.

It's his balled hands and the look in his eyes that tell me he's affected just as much as I am.

Because I am. Even though nothing has happened, I can feel myself growing wetter with each dragging second. I love the way he looks at me. I love being on display, fully naked and only for his eyes. His hands. His to do with whatever he wants.

"On your knees," he orders next, his voice firm and cool, nothing like the sweet man I was with all evening.

I shiver as I obey him, slowly sinking to my knees all the while holding his intense gaze.

It's only when he walks past me and out of my line of view that I move. I turn my head, planning on shifting so I'm facing him again but another command stops me. "I didn't tell you to move," he tells me.

Even without raising his voice, his words carry enough authority for me to shut up and look ahead. Then I wait. Wait so long the hard floor starts digging into my knees and my legs are falling asleep beneath me. Long enough for my ass to hurt where my heels are digging into and my hands to grow clammy where they rest on my thighs.

Still, Andrea is so silent I'm tempted to turn my head just to make sure he's still there. What is he doing? Why is he just letting me wait? I know he's looking at me, maybe waiting for me to disobey but I'm determined not to.

He told me not to move, I don't move.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Andrea speaks up, his smooth voice cutting through the tense silence like a knife. "Turn around," he says.

I do.

Holding my gaze evenly from where he sits on the single chair we got in this room, he adds, "come here."

I move to get to my feet but before I can even go through with it, Andrea shakes his head and holds up his hand. "I didn't tell you to get up. I told you to get over here."

It takes only a second for me to understand but when it clicks, my cheeks burn up red. He wants me to crawl.

And my desperate ass is too lost in this to think twice about it. Leaning forward, I get on my hands and knees, eyes still on the man ahead of me. I take the liberty to pace myself, moving slowly and what I hope is sensually and enjoying the way Andrea's expression tightens.

I can see the bulge in his pants and know he's torturing himself as much as he is me, the masochist.

When I reach his feet, I sit back on my calves again to look up at him, my heart racing and thighs clenching. He's still wearing his suit, looking completely in control and radiating power like the sun radiates heat.

"Tell me what you are being punished for."

I take a shaky breath, trying not to fiddle. Fuck, I feel like a child that took too much candy or something. "I came without permission," I whisper, the sound a sad, fickle thing.

"That's right. You disobeyed me and for that, you deserve being punished," he says though it sounds almost like a question. I nod.

Then his hands are on me, gentle as they wrap around my arms and lift me up slightly. I let Andrea move me, complying happily as he drapes me over one of his thighs so my ass is up in the air and my face looking down.

I was expecting this. Fuck, I was counting on it. And yet, being in this position, my breath hitches.

"Do you want ten hits with my belt or fifteen with my hand?" he asks, voice still hard in contrast to the way his hands are running softly over my bare back, arms, ass, and everywhere else he can reach. The gesture seems almost lazy while my galloping heartbeat says the very opposite.

I chew on my bottom lip, trying to pull myself together and find my voice to reply. "Belt," I finally rasp. I know what it feels like to get slapped by his hand and I'd like to try something new.

Wordlessly, I can feel Andrea take his hands off me as he reaches for something. Then the smooth texture of his leather belt settles on my lower back. It wasn't a hit. He's just letting me feel it.

And fuck if my heart doesn't start racing even more. The anticipation is almost too much, the wait too long. I'm impatient, dripping down my thighs but trying to stay still while praying that Andrea is done dragging this out.

But he's still merely letting the material trail up and down my back, around my shoulders and finally over my ass. He occasionally lifts it away from me completely, making me think he'll finally deliver the first blow.

"Please," I finally whine pathetically. Andrea ignores me but when the belt is removed from my skin this time, it comes back down with a loud CRACK.

I scream out, more in surprise than pain. My shoulders try to lift on instinct, my back arching even as the sting on my left ass cheek is reduced to a tingle. Andrea keeps my body in place and after a few breaths, I lean into him again.

Still, my muscles stay stiff as I wait for the next blow. Only it doesn't come and I make the mistake of relaxing. That's when Andrea strikes again, a little harder than the last time but on my right cheek.

My screams turn into moans, my nails digging into Andrea's thigh as he delivers blow after blow. And fuck if I'm not loving every second of this.

Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe something's wrong with me for liking this but I don't have it in me to care.

"So good, Baby. Three more, you can take it," Andrea says, a hint of tenderness mixing in with his harsh voice. I nod against him. Even though my ass is burning in the best way possible, my safe word is nowhere near the tip of my tongue.

I don't want this to stop. Quite the contrary, judging by the way I arch my back further, damn near begging for another hit.

The next blow is harder than the ones before, almost tipping the scale between pain and pleasure. I half scream, half moan but the sound is getting tired.

Andrea goes on relentlessly, delivering the last two hits in quick succession.  And I scream despite my raw throat, curl my toes despite the pain.

"That's it, baby," Andrea mutters, setting his belt aside as his hands start running over my sore cheeks, soothing the pain gently.

I relax, breathing heavily as one of Andrea's hands moves over my hip and in between my legs. He makes a sound in the back of his throat, palming my wet pussy.

"Look at that. Didn't even touch you and you're dripping all over the floor. Such a little whore for the pain, aren't you. Liked it so much when I streaked your ass red and raw." He curses. I moan.

Slipping two fingers inside of me, he hums. "Can't wait to fuck you, baby. Can you take me? Let me fuck this wet little cunt until it's as sore as your ass?"

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