Chapter Twenty-Three

Objectified

––––––––

T IME STRETCHED OUT around her, an unquantifiable foe. Her head was cloudy as she pressed her palms onto the rug, her senses alive with her electrifying surrender. Even given everything she’d endured since her arrival, that moment seemed significant.

That she would kneel for him willingly and accept the weight of his ankles was something she’d never considered before.

A footrest?

Nothing but a piece of equipment for his comfort.

The subdued part of her was disgusted at her tolerance of the act, but that larger, more dominant facet of her that Kyle had inspired approved wholeheartedly.

She wanted this.

Even though there was no reasonable way to agree to such objectification and even though she knew she merited better. A smile curled at her lips as the realization landed over her. She could logically rationalize all of those emotional responses, but there was no denying—she still wanted this.

Who knew I was such a freak?

She bit down on her lower lip. Certainly, her late husband hadn’t known, but then she couldn’t blame Graham. She hadn’t acknowledged those things about herself until Kyle had crashed into her life and flipped everything inside out.

He’d told her she’d be judged on her performance, and the thought buoyed her when her shoulders and knees started to ache. She’d spent a lot of time on her feet as a professional cleaner, but she wasn’t used to being on her hands and knees. This was different. It was harder.

Relax.

She forced air from her lips as she willed herself to settle, but however much she tried to focus on stillness, her limbs felt alive with energy, as though her body knew what was at stake.

Pleasure.

“Stay still, little girl.” Kyle chuckled, and from the corner of her eyes, she saw him place his now empty tumbler on the floor, the weight of his feet shifting as he moved.

His warning held no genuine fear, but damn it, she found she actually wanted to do a good job. It was like she’d told him. She took pride in her work, whatever its requirements.

Even kneeling for his feet.

“Sorry, sir.” Her eyes fell closed. “I’m having trouble.”

“I can see that.”

“I’ll do better,” she promised, her heart rising to her throat, although she was sure the growing trepidation was more about her arousal than anxiety.

Whatever his judgment, she knew what Kyle would do. He’d illustrated the consequences clearly enough. She was either going to get a spanking or an orgasm, and even though she’d bemoaned the physical rebuke, the idea of the former was far more enticing than she’d admitted to him.

“No need, little girl.” His feet were gone from her in seconds, his lithe body towering over her a moment later. “I’ve seen enough.”

Shit. Her nipples hardened at the implied threat, even though Kyle had said nothing to overtly indicate his disappointment.

“Are you upset with me?” She turned to look at him, eager to know her fate.

“Upset?” He sniggered as he crouched beside her. “How can I be upset with the woman who careened into my life and changed everything?”

He couldn’t be talking about her, could he?

Pressing his cool palm against the heated skin of her face, he skimmed his lips over hers. “My verdict is final, little girl.”

The power he had over her—whether bartered through her poverty or her sexual assent—was completely mesmerizing.

“Yes, sir.” Her gaze fell to the space between her palms. The decision was his, and she would live with—and likely relish—either outcome.

“Come here.” He settled back on his chair and beckoned her forward with his index finger.

Turning, she crawled toward his trouser-clad shin.

“Do you think you did a good job, little girl?”

“No, sir,” she conceded. “I was restless, and I don’t know why.”

Being used as someone’s footrest was new territory for Amy, and while she acknowledged how hot and needy it had made her, she had still struggled to square her plight, let alone her arousal.

“Thank you for being honest about your performance. Your feelings are understandable.” Tucking her hair away from her face, he leaned down to graze his lips across her nearest earlobe. “It’s not every day a woman becomes a footrest.”

She blinked at his whispered words, mewling as his lips skimmed the side of her neck. She’d always loved to be kissed there, and his mouth sparked electricity against her skin.

“No, sir.”

She wanted more of his kisses, more of his time, but she dared not ask for them. He’d given her so much already and promised her nothing.

Except those wonderful carnal rewards when I’ve earned them.

“I’m sure you’re ready to hear my decision.” He clasped the back of her neck as he straightened, holding her in place as he inched toward the edge of his oversized chair.

“Yes.” Breathlessness had become her default tone. “Yes, please, sir.”

––––––––

“I COULD TELL YOU WERE doing your best, little girl.” His thumb stroked at the soft skin of her neck. “But, I agree, you were restless.”

“I’m sorry.” All she could think about was the bubble of rapture Kyle had created with such ease. She couldn’t be developing feelings for him, could she?

“No apologies needed.” He lowered again, crashing his lips to hers and swallowing her rising mewl. Time protracted as his tongue darted into her mouth, snaking in and out of her hot warmth the way she longed his cock would do. “Here’s what’s going to happen next.”

Dazed from the kiss, she tried to focus on his words.

“You’re going to get your spanking.” Doubled over so his face was the same level as hers, his blue gaze speared her. “And then, once you’re suitably contrite for failing to be a good footrest, I’m going to give you the orgasm of your life.”

Fuck .

Her body tensed at his dark promises, reminding her of what she already knew—she wanted everything he’d described. Everything and, if truth be told, a whole lot more.

More than any housekeeper should yearn for.

“Yes, sir.”

Had she just concurred with him without complaint?

Hell, what had happened to her that she was prepared to simply roll over with a few softly spoken words?

Worse still, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to return to the version of herself who’d thought she had more fight but spent her life running in frantic circles. That strung-out, rundown form of Amy was nothing worth aspiring to. She knew that now. She was better off on her knees in front of the man in the sharp suit with wild blue eyes and magic hands.

“I’m glad we agree.” He eased back on his seat and patted his lap. “You know what’s happening next.”

She moved in slow motion, vaguely cognizant of her actions as she shuffled on her knees toward his right side.

This was really happening.

She pulled in a deep breath, consenting to the spanking without resistance.

“Up.”

It was only one word from him, but it seemed to hold all the power in the universe. Tipping herself forward, she was soon draped over his thighs. She settled so her fingertips brushed the length of the rug by his empty glass and steeled herself. She tried not to dwell on how ungainly she must look, upturned over his lap, or how absurdly vulnerable the position left her. Instead, she focused on her feelings.

She had to trust him. She had no choice.

“Am I right in thinking this is your first proper spanking, little girl?” Kyle ran his palm over her prone ass, squeezing her right cheek. “Aside from the ten swats you took in the drawing room.”

“Yes, sir.” She was suddenly struck by a wave of gratitude.

However humiliating it was to be strewn over him—and it definitely was—she was so thankful he could no longer see her every response. She needed to process what was about to happen without the intensity of his scrutiny.

Kyle had a way of staring so deeply into her eyes with his deep, blue gaze, she swore he could see right into her soul. It was disconcerting to be ‘seen’ so intently by someone she hardly knew, yet utterly moving, all at once. Graham had never seen her that way in their entire marriage. He’d never known the woman beneath the layers of societal roles and expectations. Of that, she was certain.

“I acknowledge that, Amy.” He patted her rump in an almost tender way. “And I promise to go easy on you, but I do want to make it clear—this is a punishment.”

She clenched at the thought.

A punishment .

For not being a good enough footrest.

It was so fucking hot.

“Is that clear, little girl?” His thundering voice prompted her response.

“Yes, sir.”

It was too late to change her mind. She knew that. He’d made his intentions evident before she got into the position, and she’d had plenty of time to protest. Not that she’d wanted to. She was all in for this punishment.

“And so it begins.”

His hand vanished from her flesh, and in a heartbeat, it came crashing down on her tensed backside.

“Shit.” The blow was much harder than she’d remembered in the drawing room, the force temporarily taking her breath away.

“Language.” He squeezed her orb as he gave the warning.

“I’m sorry, but—” She never got to complete that sentence, her words halted by the strength of the next swat.

“No words until I say so, little girl.” Again, his palm rested on the middle of her cheeks. “This is a punishment, remember?”

Yes, sir.

Braced for the next strike, she winced as it landed and squeezed her eyes closed. He’d said he’d go easy on her, but this onslaught was anything but easy. Tears brimmed in her eyes as he rained down a fast succession of intense smacks, each delivered in a slightly different area and each as unrelenting as the next.

Fuck!

Her hands balled into fists as the pain grew. The sensation of the swats was unbearable, and her ass felt as though it was at least three times its usual size. As she pulled in air, she wasn’t sure how much more of the ordeal she could take.

“Oh my God.” She mouthed the words, certain she shouldn’t speak them aloud, yet unable to hold them in.

How much more could he expect her to tolerate?

“How are you doing, little girl?” As though he sensed her dismay, his palm paused, pressing against her heated flesh.

“It hurts!” She spat out the words. “Sir.”

“Excellent.” His fingers skimmed her skin. “That’s the point, Amy. It’s supposed to hurt. Maybe next time you provide a footrest for me, you’ll try a little harder.”

Her brows furrowed. Next time? She fidgeted over him, unable to decide how she felt about that idea. She’d enjoyed being down there on the floor, hadn’t she?

Yes . The answer was forthcoming. She’d certainly appreciated it more than the bloody spanking.

“Your ass is a wonderful crimson color.” Cocooning her, he kissed the tender skin of her behind. “And...” He hesitated. “Because this is your first time, I’ll be kind and end the spanking there.”

“Thank you, sir.” There was genuine thankfulness in her voice.

Fondling her sore cheeks, his fingertips dipped between them. “I won’t be so lenient next time.”