The Dollhouse Read Online Free

going to spank you,” he said casually, as if discussing something as commonplace as the weather. “The more you resist, the more discipline you will receive.”
    He can’t mean it , was my frantic thought. I wasn’t a misbehaving little girl. This couldn’t be real. Panicked, I squeezed my thighs together and pushed hard against the arm at my waist that may as well have been a steel vise.
    The first strike on my bare bottom was more shocking than it was painful, but I cried out nonetheless. My legs flailed and he slapped each thigh punishingly hard — enough that I knew it would leave a mark — until they stilled.
    He leaned further over me, pinning me hard to his thighs with the weight of his body. I could feel the stiff length of his erection pressing painfully into the soft flesh of my belly.
    My last coherent thought was that no one had ever spanked me before, not even Momma when I was a child. I had expected sex, even to feel humiliated, but not this. Then the blows began to rain down, sharp and unrelenting, and I was no longer able to think at all.
    I cried out with each crack of his hand against my skin. Perhaps I begged him to stop, choking out the words through my tears. If he heard me, he took no notice of it. Alternating flanks, he covered every inch of my backside in slapping shocks with a tempo that never faltered.
    He whispered in my ear, lips moving against the delicate shell, as his hand never ceased its punishing rhythm. “You want this, you just don’t know it yet.”
    And then he was hitting me even harder. I could no longer feel the individual blows but the whole of my body was consumed in fire, from the skin under his hand to the molten center at my core.
    I was sobbing, without inhibition or restraint, tears and snot soaking the bedspread against my face and no longer able to struggle against him. His hand finally slowed, the severity of the spanking morphing into a sort of caress. He rubbed my skin — over my buttocks and down to my thighs — just hard enough that the stoked fire could not completely abate.
    The tears slowed until I was taking only small, hiccuping breaths.
    “That was very good. I think you deserve a reward.”
    The circle he made with his hand slowly moved towards the center, his touch growing feather light as he barely skimmed the aching spot between my thighs. The burning that had once been pain had become something else entirely.
    I moaned loudly when one thick finger dipped inside of me.
    “What’s this, then?”
    “I d-don’t kn-know…sir,” I said on a stuttering breath, overwhelmed with shame and desire.
    “How very wet you are.” He removed his hand and I had to bite my tongue to keep from begging for more. “They can probably smell you all the way downstairs.”
    I sobbed at that, unable to respond.
    He gripped my chin hard between his thumb and index finger, wrenching my head back in a painful contortion until our noses nearly touched. “Do you know what kind of a girl gets wet when a man spanks her bare ass?”
    “A b-bad girl, sir.”
    “Not just a bad girl.”
    He caught my lip between his teeth and bit down hard until I tasted the copper tang of blood. He pulled away enough to whisper against my mouth.
    “A slut .”
    “No!”
    He slapped my bottom hard and I screamed.
    “Say it, Dalea.” His hand stroked down my back and over the curve of one buttock, teasing me. “Say what you are and I’ll reward you.”
    The ache and wanting was more than I could take. I tried to shift beneath him, to bring his hand closer to where I needed it, but he held me immobile.
    “A slut.” I cried as I said it, ashamed and aroused both. “ I’m a slut, sir !”
    “Such a good girl.”
    The fingers of one hand plunged between my slick folds, while the other found the little bead at the center of my need and stroked it over and over again. I pushed back against his hand, my feet in the heels sliding against the floor as I tried to find purchase.
    My legs