Casey's Choice Read online

  “That ass is so pretty and creamy right now,” Max continued, lowering his voice. “Soon it’s going to be pink, and then red. Nice and sore. How do you like standing there naked, in front of the two of us?” Max’s voice rolled over her. “I hope it makes you feel obedient, babe. Because we certainly expect you to obey. You know that, right?”

  “Max.” She bit her lip. God, how did he know just what to say? The combination of sexy and masterful had her ready again, for whatever he wanted to give.

  “Address him as Sir tonight.” Hunter’s voice was cold. “If you forget, I’ll give you a taste of the cane each and every time. Control yourself.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she answered, a spire of fear suffusing her body at the mention of the cane.

  “Take off your shoes.”

  She kicked off the heels and stood, eyes down, waiting.

  “We’ll start over my lap,” Max decided, “with my hand. Hunter, I’ll spank her that way until she’s pink and begging.”

  “Good.” Hunter’s voice was firm. “Make sure she feels it. I want her sore before we move on.”

  Casey made a small noise of appeal, but Max didn’t respond to it. “Over my lap,” he ordered, pulling her down across his legs. “Put your hands on the floor and drape your legs down. Hunter, bring the cane over. If you reach back or kick, he’ll remind you not to.”

  “Gladly.” Hunter strode to the bench and picked up the cane, swished it in the air for effect.

  “No! I promise, I’ll behave. Sir.” Casey struggled to get comfortable, finding a position for her hands, arranging her belly over his thighs. It was awkward and alarming, and she realized that her ass made the perfect target, upturned over his legs.

  “You will, either on your own or with our help,” promised Hunter. “Begin.”

  Without further warning, Casey felt Max’s hand strike her left buttock, a strong, hard slap that was unlike the gentle ones Hunter had started with on their night together. She twisted in surprise and yelped in alarm, worried at what was to come, but he pushed at her head. “Stay in position. We start hard for punishments.” He slapped the other cheek, and Casey felt a surge of panic. It hurt so much—there was no way she could deal with a long hand spanking, and then the rest of the things they had planned.

  But there was no getting out of it; although she tried to struggle and move her hips, Max held her firmly in place and continued to spank hard, alternating cheeks. The heat came up faster than she expected, and then it turned to a burn, and soon she was crying out at each hard slap. “Ow! Ouch! Stop!”

  But he didn’t stop; in fact, he began spanking harder than before, raising his arm higher and bringing his palm down with a resounding crack. Casey twisted her body, trying to get free, but he simply rearranged her as if she were a rag doll, and brought his hand down in a barrage of spanks that had her whimpering. He spanked in the same spot several times until she thought she was going to die; and the relief she felt when he switched to the other side turned into anguish when that one was punished similarly.

  He kept going until she grabbed at his strong calves and began begging. “Max, Sir, please, God, please stop. I’ve learned my lesson, I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again, you know I won’t, please just stop.”

  And when he kept going, she reached back to cover her ass with her right hand. “Max, I mean it. Really, stop! It’s enough.”

  He stopped. “What did I tell you about reaching back?”

  “But I need you to stop. It hurts.”

  “Are you having a panic attack?” His voice was calm.

  “No.”

  “Do you have chest pains or other symptoms I should be aware of? Trouble breathing? A cramp?”

  “What? Why—no. My ass hurts, you—asshole.” She punched at his leg.

  Max sat her up on his lap to look into her face, and she jerked at the pressure on her skin. “Oh, ow.”

  “Casey? Look at me.” He gazed into her eyes. “You’re not injured. Yes, it hurts. It’s supposed to hurt.”

  “I know, I was being dramatic, but I need a break. I need you to stop.” She felt tears start to well up in her eyes—not from pain, although her butt was sore. Maybe more from emotion.

  “You’re not ready for a long break. We’re not done with the hand spanking yet. And,” he sounded regretful, “you reached back and neglected to use Sir. When I put you back over my lap, you’re getting two strokes from the cane before I finish the spanking. Hunter?”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “I can, and I will.” Hunter’s voice was cool. “You said yes to the rules before we started. And maybe it’s better to acquaint you with the cane early. That way you can look forward to the longer caning you’ll receive from me later.”

  “She’s ready.” Max flipped her over again and held her in place with his arms and leg. “When you’re ready, Hunter, go ahead. Make them hard, but don’t leave welts… yet. She’s got a long way to go before she earns her stripes.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Casey squeaked in surprise and dismay at that sentence, jerking at his arms, but she was held in an iron embrace. Without warning, a lick of fire spread across her ass, hitting both cheeks evenly, a pain the likes of which she’d never before experienced. She screamed aloud and lost her breath for a moment, trying to process the sensation in a way that even made sense. It was fire, it was knives, it was—it was there again. She screamed a second time at the lash from the cane, unable to talk or beg, just trying to survive the waves of discomfort from her ass.

  Max held her steady through her attack until she lay limply over his legs, sucking in air unevenly. “Don’t do that again!” she begged.

  “It’s okay,” Max soothed, rubbing her ass, making her wince. “That’s the cane. He wasn’t hitting with full strength, even. But you’ll get more if you disobey. We’re serious about this, Casey, and you need to assist with your own punishment. You’ll help by keeping your hands out of the way and addressing us with our titles even though it hurts.”

  “Yes, Sir!” she cried, reaching up one hand from the floor, trembling, to swipe at her nose. She didn’t even realize she was crying, yet there were tears. Lots of them. Her body shook and Max gestured to Hunter, who came over with a box of tissues.

  “Wipe,” Max told her softly, handing her a tissue, and she grabbed it, swiped at her face, and dropped the tissue to the floor.

  Max slapped where he had rubbed. “Let’s finish this,” he said, and began a hard, fast volley of swats over her sit spots and thighs, until she was writhing in new anguish under his hand. But she’d learned her lesson; this hurt, but it was nothing compared to the evil of that cane, so she forced herself to keep her legs at quiet as possible and her hands on the floor, accepting what he gave.

  When he finally stopped, she sagged with relief. “Are you done?” she asked, and could hear the plea in her voice along with a plaintive gasp.

  “This part is done,” he agreed. “Come, rest on me now.” He tugged her into his arms and held her, and even though her ass stung like hell, she fell into his body, against his chest, seeking comfort, breathing hard and trying not to cry. He stroked her back and hair and murmured into her ear, telling her how proud he was, how well she was doing.

  She should have hated it, raged against the whole thing, but part of her loved the attention and the praise, and as she sat there feeling his hands on her shoulders, her back, a tingle began to grow between her legs, and she realized that she was more turned on than she’d ever been. To her horror, she knew that if Max reached between her thighs, she’d let him touch her and bring her to bliss, and she didn’t care that Hunter was watching, and at this moment, she wouldn’t care if the entire club was watching. In fact, Hunter was being such a cold, cruel asshole right now, part of her wanted to make him jealous. Let him watch her get turned on by Max’s touch. If he didn’t want to touch her himself? It would serve him right.

  Max noticed her wriggling. “Casey? Did that arouse you?�
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  “Yes,” she mumbled, embarrassed beyond belief, but also relieved to set it free.

  “Did it get you wet?” His voice was low and sexy in her ear, his hands soft on her body, touching. And suddenly she knew that he wanted to give her pleasure. He was trying to give her what she’d told him when they met for lunch.

  “Yessss,” she moaned, rocking her hips back and forth, trying to find any friction to soothe the raging desire in her clit. The pain in her ass and the desire in her body were making her into an inferno of sensation, and she felt ethereal, like she wasn’t really there, or like she was in some other dimension. “I need—I need—”

  “What do you need?”

  “I need, I want to be touched,” she begged him, and then made a sound of utter frustration as he grabbed her body, stilling her hips. Across the room, Hunter made a noise, sort of a snort and a growl. She started, forced herself not to look at him.

  “But you’ve been such a bad girl,” Max chastised her, “and bad girls don’t get to come during their punishments.”

  “But please.” Those words, bad girl, shot such a spike of pleasure through her body that she felt it in the tips of her nipples, and she arched her body upward toward him, begging with her entire being. “Please.”

  “Does a bad girl deserve my fingers in her pussy?” Max’s voice was so dirty she almost thought she’d come just from hearing him.

  “No, but I promise I’ll be good for you, I will.” She tried to wiggle her breasts into his palms, opened her thighs on his, trying to entice him, and from the hardening bulge under her body, she could tell it was working. His hand strayed to her upper thigh.

  “Hmm. Will you, though?” He stroked her inner thigh now, with soft, long strokes, ending tantalizingly close to where she needed him.

  “Yes, yes, please.” So close—his fingers were almost there, one more inch…

  “No.” Hunter’s voice broke in, cold. “You don’t get that tonight. Max, enough.”

  Max rested his hands on her waist. “I think it would help her accept the second part of her punishment. Offset the pain.” His voice was even but it held a spark of steel. “This isn’t supposed to be torture for her, Hunter. We talked about this.”

  “Neither is it playtime. I changed my mind. She doesn’t deserve that. She can get herself off later, on her own time.”

  Casey let out a sob of humiliation. Max set her down beside him and kissed her cheek. “You heard him—not now.” He handed her the box of tissues and the bottled water. “Five more minutes,” he warned. “We’ll continue on the bench. While you wait, we’re going to look at something together.” He picked up a laptop from the floor, opened the lid, and pulled up a web page. “Read it to me, Casey.”

  She looked at him, bewildered, lifting up one hip to rub her ass, then read the title of the article: “The New Illinois Law on False Impersonation.”

  “That’s right,” Hunter said, his voice stern. “This is why we’re punishing you, do you understand? Keep reading. Out loud, please.”

  She cleared her throat and read in a small voice, “In Illinois, it was already illegal to impersonate a police officer, firefighter, emergency management worker, veteran, parent/legal guardian or airplane pilot. The new law is expanded to include impersonating ordinary people, not just those in special categories such as police officers. You may be charged with a Class A Misdemeanor, punishable by up to one year in jail and a $2,500 fine if you falsely impersonate someone in order to defraud, injure, threaten, intimidate or obtain a benefit.” She trailed off, looked at his face, then did another small rub on her sore cheeks.

  Taking the laptop away, Hunter spoke in a curt tone. “It’s possible that something like this could be written off as a prank by a good lawyer, and dismissed. But like I also mentioned, the real Sofia’s parents are connected, high-powered lawyers with lots of tentacles in the police and governor’s office. They could have made it worse for you, either in a trial or behind the scenes with you and with the club. God knows. What I do know is that you will—not—ever—do—something—like—this—again. Not here, not anywhere.”

  He glared at her and she dropped her gaze. “I know. Hunter, I already promised. I won’t. And not just you, I promised myself.” Her voice was firm, angry even.

  “Think about that during the second half of your punishment.”

  She nodded and wiped her face and drank from the water, sneaking a glance at Hunter. He had his arms crossed on his chest, and was not looking at her. She shuddered, remembering the searing burn of the cane, and wondered how he’d felt, doing it to her. Tears welled up as she wondered if he’d done it purely in anger, or with any measure of tenderness. Sure, he didn’t want her to get into trouble, but he was also concerned with the publicity of his name and that of his members.

  Too soon, Max took the bottle from her hands. “It’s time. I need you to walk over the bench and lie on it, face down. We’ll arrange your arms and legs and fasten you down.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She thought about using her safeword, almost felt it on her tongue, but in the end she didn’t say it, and found her legs carrying her over. One of the men had removed the implements from the sleek piece of furniture, and she carefully bent down and arranged herself, letting one breast fall on each side of the narrow support, feeling the material press into her belly. Her knees rested on padded supports, as did her forearms, and she felt two sets of hands buckling her down by the wrist and ankle. In addition, someone slipped a belt around her waist and tightened it; not painfully, but to the point where she was fully restrained with no room for wiggling. No room to get away.

  The silence in the room was thick with tension, then Max spoke. “Crop and paddle. I’ll alternate as I see fit. But first…” His voice trailed off and Casey heard something rattling—he was picking up the leather box. “It’s time for your plug. This will help you remember not to clench your cheeks, I think.”

  She heard the snap of a bottle, and a squirting sound. “I’m lubing it up,” Max explained, “and I’m going to lube your ass generously, so the plug slips in as easily as possible. It’s small, so it won’t hurt, and the lube will help you take it. You need to relax your cheeks and push back at me when I insert it. Ready?”

  Her voice trembled. “No.”

  “Casey?’ His held a tone of command. “No delaying.”

  “I’ve never had a plug before. I don’t know how to do this.” All of her muscles were tense.

  “It’s not that hard. Feel this?”

  She winced as she felt something cold at her anus; he was drizzling lube over her. Then she made a strangled noise as she felt his finger push past her rosette, into a place she’d never been touched before.

  “Lots of lube, like I said. Tell me mercy if you really don’t want to do this.”

  “It feels weird.” She clenched down on his finger, but didn’t say the safeword.

  He slapped her hip with his other hand. “No. Relax. It will go easier this way. Apologize.”

  “I’m sorry, Sir.” She forced her body to let her muscles go limp, to allow his searching finger free access. She wanted to try this. Another finger joined the first, and she hissed out her breath in surprise, and then again when more cold lube landed on her body. His fingers felt lewd, but good, and she pushed her hips up in her bonds, craving more of the obscene touch. For a few minutes, he stroked and teased her, touching her in a way no one ever had, and she liked it so much that she felt her arousal grow as strong as it had over his lap. But strangely, the cold was turning warm, then warmer, then—

  “Ouch!” she wailed out, trying to jerk away. “The lube burns. Make it stop.”

  “It’s ginger lube,” explained Max. “And this,” he pushed something at the entrance to her anus, “is the plug. It’s coated in the lube. The burning’s going to get a little worse before it gets better, I’m afraid. Now, bear down and push at me, let the plug in. If you don’t cooperate, I can add more lube, so I encourage you to be obed
ient.”

  “It’s hard, I can’t,” she managed to gasp out. “It hurts.” But something about the burn was also arousing. He pushed steadily, and she was able to relax her cheeks enough to allow the plug access. She felt a burn as it pushed in, then a fullness. The burning sensation increased, though, and she tried to clench her ass cheeks, which only made the discomfort from the plug worse. It was nearly enough to make her need to stop, but also just enough to make her throb with desire for the man making her take this—a confusing mix that left her head spinning in confusion. She liked this, God help her—it felt sexy and dirty. From the way Max’s fingers lingered on her skin, the way he trailed his touch over her body, she knew he liked it too.

  “Don’t clench,” suggested Max. “We want your cheeks to be nice and relaxed for this part of the punishment. It hurts more that way, and bruises less. Better for you both ways. The pain from the plug and ginger is a nice reminder to stay soft for us.”

  “I hate you,” she cried, tears falling. She was unable to wipe them, tied as she was, and her vision blurred. She could only see the floor, though, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

  “You say that now, but I think you’ll feel differently when we’re done.” Max picked up something from the floor. “Do you have anything else to say to me?” He bent to look into her face, and his gaze was stern, but his eyes searched her. “Any other… words?” He wiped her tears with his fingers, and the touch made something swell in her chest, something strange and new.

  She shook her head, unable to speak. She knew what he was asking, but she needed to finish this, as much as she could.

  “Good. First the paddle. I’ll give you fifteen hard ones, then we’ll switch to the crop. You count them, Casey. If you miss one, we start over from one, so stay sharp. Let’s go.” He brought the paddle down with a resounding snap, and Casey squealed.