One Night With My Billionaire Master by Cynthia Sax

warm up swat. He lifts his hands. I wait and wait and wait, clutching his legs. Moments pass. I start to relax.
    He cuffs me, hard, the smack of skin against skin ringing through the vehicle. I yelp, jolted by the impact, agony radiating from my left ass cheek.
    “One,” I whimper, silently cursing him, myself, the world. “Thank you, sir.” You sadistic bastard.
    My eyes sting with unshed tears, while moisture bathes my inner thighs, the pain perversely turning me on. I’m a sick woman, getting off on this spanking.
    “This hurts me also, pet.” Logan shows me his reddened palm. “As it should.” His chest heaves. He’s thinking about his failure to protect me, blaming himself for the fake sex tape.
    “We’re strong, sir,” I remind him, concentrating on him, and not on my inflamed skin. “We’ll survive this.”
    “We will.” His hand lands heavily on my other ass cheek and my spine bows.
    Fuck. “Two,” I count through gritted teeth. “Thank you, sir.” A teardrop trickles down my right cheek, pooling in the seam of my lips.
    “Such a pretty pink ass.” Logan sweeps his hands over my hot skin. “Spread your legs for me, pet.”
    I obey his command, knowing he’ll see my shameful arousal. He slides his fingers over my intimate folds, circles my clit, stimulating my already humming body.
    “You’re dripping for me.” He spreads my pussy juices across my ass. My musk tickles my nostrils, my scent surrounding us.
    I’d be more embarrassed about this growing need if he wasn’t also turned on. His cock strains against the zipper of his dress pants, the ridge pressing snugly against my side.
    I don’t dare touch him, not having earned that right. If—
    He swats my left ass cheek for the second time and I cry out, this agony even more intense, waves of sweet pain flowing over my body, chased by a strange euphoria.
    “Three.” I float, detaching from the physical, from everything except him. “Thank you, sir.” Wetness coats my cheeks. I hold onto his legs, anchoring myself to him.
    “One more, my sensitive pet.” Humor lightens his voice. “Stay with me.”
    “Yes, sir,” I reply dreamily.
    His hand cracks across my ass and I scream, lifting, throwing myself into this last reprimand, embracing my punishment. “Exquisite,” he murmurs, squeezing my abused flesh. I writhe. Logan doesn’t release me, the pinch of his fingers prolonging my euphoria, and I warm all over, my arms and legs trembling.
    “I need to be inside you, pet.” He draws my limp form upright, jostling me as he unzips his pants, yanks down the material. A dab of pre-cum glistens on his tip.
    He lifts me over him. I reach under my body, position him at my entrance, and he lowers me. “Ohhh….” I moan, his long thick cock surging upward into me, his broad tip rubbing along my inner walls. He’s inside and around me. My nipples caress his suit jacket, my billionaire remaining dressed from the waist up, his silk tie tightly knotted.
    As the erotic slide of pussy lips over rigid shaft ends, I sit, straddling my demanding man, and our gazes meet, lock. Hot, heavy emotion swirls between us, thick enough to feel, to taste. We’re connected physically, emotionally, spiritually. I touch his cheek, his tanned skin firm and warm and right. This is where I’m meant to be, with him.
    “Arianna,” he murmurs as he leans forward. In this rare moment, we’re not master and pet, Dom and sub. I meet him halfway and he covers my lips with his. Neither of us lead or follow, command or obey. We’re one, moving in unison, sharing control.
    I open to him and our tongues glide, dip, dance. He grips my hips and I rock to the rhythm of our hearts, my ass burning, my pleasure edged with the pain I need, I want.
    I savor this gentle loving, a rest between bouts of breathtaking ecstasy, allowing my passion to slowly build. My dominant billionaire isn’t as patient as I am, dragging his hot mouth over my neck, nipping at my skin with his