The Perfect Scandal

Chapter Twenty-Five

My knees and palms pressed almost painfully into the glass top of Mallory's desk, with the ring on my finger creating a thick and tingling indent. I was surprised that she had not yet noticed my ring. Either that, or she didn't care. Or she chose not to say anything. Whatever the case, I was slightly grateful, because the conversation was definitely going to be awkward for me.

A leather belt cracked in the air, sending chills down my back and creating even more tension in the room. Crisp air caressed my almost completely bare body, but soothed my already overheated cheeks. My clothes—a pair of leggings and a long blouse because all of my slacks were at my own house and I'd been staying with Kalob—were folded and laid out on my usual chair, leaving me kneeling in my bra and panties. I kept my head down, per Mallory's request, and stared at the faint image of my reflection, no makeup and wavy hair. I was nervous—the only conversation Mallory had had with me thus far were directions. I must have really pissed her off for her to act like this.

She had already given me fifteen lashes, soothing every five by dragging her nails from every direction. After the tenth, she used her nails again, but drew vicious red lines from my shoulder blades down. Her hands gripped each cheek, fiercely claiming their territory. By the fifteenth, her teeth marred the skin on my behind, digging into sensitive flesh. I was grateful that Vaughn wasn't in yet, because I had screamed louder then than after each strike. Mallory stifled me afterwards, slender fingers and soft palm pressed against my lips, until she was ready to continue.

"Miss Holland," she purred, laying the belt against my back and grabbing a chunk full of my hair. I groaned in response, staining my neck backwards, which seemed to please the older woman. "How many more do you think you deserve?"

I knew not to give a real answer to that. "Whatever you deem fit, Miss," I murmured, breathless and wanting nothing more than to be done with this.

"I wish you could see this," she drawled, almost fondly. "Your ass is so fucking red, it's almost raw."

Fingers unraveled, leaving my hair and pressing against overheated cheeks, and eliciting a strangled moan from my throat.

"I could punish you all day."

I groaned at the sheer thought of being punished continuously. Mallory wasn't necessarily bluffing; she, at least, would beat my ass until I safe-worded, then perhaps find a different spot to abuse.

Grinding my hips in the air, I silently begged for attention, but in a different spot. Despite the pain coursing through my ass, and the possibility that it now had a heartbeat, I could feel the arousal coating the apex of my thighs, dripping and soaking my panties. Certainly Mallory could see a damp spot. "Miss, please," I pleaded, my back arching.

Her hands massaged burning flesh, almost soothingly until they grabbed firm handfuls, further claiming their territory. "Oh dear," Mallory encouraged, pulling my underwear down my thighs painfully slow. Cool breath invaded the warm moisture collecting between my legs, and I couldn't help but shiver in response. I was already ready to come, but assumed Mallory wouldn't relent so quickly or easily.

Hoping it would speed up the process, I pushed my hips back and started rolling them. The first movements began alleviating the growing pressure, but soon caused further buildup. I whined, "Miss!"

She chuckled in response, low and throaty, and so fucking hot. A firm hand struck one cheek, leaving the other to shiver and wait for the matching assault, but it didn't come. Instead, long fingers grazed up and down my slit, collecting dewy moisture on their descent. I tossed my head back, bottom lip between my teeth, blocking a soft moan.

Fingers continued probing, drawing patterns in the midst of my arousal. "You are ab-so-lutely soaked, my dear," Mallory taunted, stressing every syllable with her serpent tongue.