Chapter 5

Riley

I didn't like the insinuation in his tone. I glanced back at him, but his expression was unreadable.

What the fuck had that meant?

Chewing my lip, I studied him for a bit longer. Several of the things he said were running on repeat in my head, but I couldn't make any sense of them.

One single sentence stuck out the most, though.

You need to be punished.

Despite myself, I found my curiosity swirling within me, my affliction for running right into the face of danger mounting with every passing second. It felt dangerous and wrong, yet I couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to know more.

My heart beat a bit frantically in my chest, and I glared at Maxim hoping it'd make him say something, anything really to explain himself, but he didn't say a word.

With a huff, I turned away and looked out the window. I tightened my arms across my chest and chewed on the inside of my cheek.

Then I caught my first glimpse of Maxim's home. His mansion wasn't anything like I'd expected, resonating with an old-world charm that seemed like it had come straight out of a period drama movie or something like that.

The house itself was massive, a sprawling three-story structure of aged brick and stone.

Ivy crept up the sides of the building, softening the imposing fa?ade with green tendrils that wove across the stonework, while the roof, steep and made of slate, reflected the moonlight in sharp angles and shadows.

The gardens surrounding the mansion were meticulously kept, with neat hedges and rows of flowering trees that I could imagine bursting into life in the spring.

As we drove up the gravel driveway, the crunching sound under the tires seemed to echo through the quiet night, which only seemed to make me even more anxious.

Punished…

I tried to shake off the nervous feeling spiraling in the pit of my belly, but it stuck to me like glue. I didn't get out of the car right away; instead I waited for Maxim to come around and open the door for me.

For whatever reason, it felt like the right thing to do.

Like the perfect gentleman, he offered me his hand, but I ignored it. Instead, I hopped out all on my own, lifting my chin in defiance as I strode straight toward the wide stone steps that lead up to a set of heavy oak doors set beneath an imposing stone archway.

Honestly, the place was more like a castle than a home.

Actually, more like a prison…

Fucking bastard.

I shook off the nervous feeling tightening inside my tummy and held my head high, crossing my arms back over my chest as I turned and waited for him to climb the stairs and open the front door.

When Maxim finally joined me, there was a trace of amusement flickering in his eyes at my open defiance. He didn't comment, instead turning to lead the way into his home. Pushing open the heavy doors, he stepped inside, and I followed. Despite my determination not to be impressed, the interior took my breath away.

The grand foyer was bathed in the warm glow of a crystal chandelier that hung from the high ceiling, its light reflecting off polished white marble floors. Rich tapestries hung on the walls, interspersed with portraits that looked as if they belonged in a museum.

Maxim noticed my momentary awe and gave a slight, knowing smile as if to say, "I told you so," without uttering a word.

Immediately I glared at him, wishing a black hole would open up beneath his feet and make him disappear.

He gestured for me to follow him up a grand staircase that spiraled upward, its railings carved from a beautiful dark wood that gleamed under the soft lighting.

"You really expect me to be impressed, don't you?" I said, my tone dripping with false bravado. "What's next, a tour of the dungeons?"

"No dungeons here, I'm afraid," he replied with a quiet chuckle as he led me down an ornate hallway lined with beautifully stained wooden doors.

He stopped in front of one and opened it, revealing a spacious guest room decorated with soft carpets, a large, inviting bed covered in plush white linens, and windows draped in heavy dark blue curtains.

"This will be your room," he announced, stepping aside to let me enter first.

I walked in but paused at the threshold, turning to face him with what I thought was a rather glorious pout.

"So, this is my cell? It's a bit extravagant for that, don't you think?" I snapped, but he didn't answer right away. Instead, he stepped inside after me and closed the door behind him.

He closed himself in the room with me.

Taken aback, I narrowed my eyes and studied him much more closely than before.

"What are you doing?" I asked cautiously as his gaze leveled with mine. There was a certain darkness simmering within those stormy blue depths, and I retreated back a few steps, feeling like he was something of a hot stove that I wasn't supposed to touch if I didn't want to get burned.

"You made several very reckless decisions tonight, Riley, and I think it's about time that you and I had a discussion about what happens to very naughty girls who constantly put themselves in danger," he chided, his voice far too scolding for my liking.

I didn't even understand why, but my stomach tightened with anxiety. His icy cold stare was hard and firm, and I got the sudden feeling that this is what it would feel like for a little girl to get in big trouble with her daddy.

I distinctly didn't like it.

My mind raced, trying to figure out his meaning. Sure, I'd been the kind of kid to get in a whole lot of trouble over the years; that's what bounced me out of several orphanages and foster homes.

I had been a ward of the state, but my file indicated that I was just a troubled girl. I could only imagine how relieved they were when I finally aged out of the system and left of my own volition. They'd washed their hands of me, and I'd washed my hands of them.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," I said quietly, looking around the room for any avenue of escape. For some reason, I felt like I should run, but there wasn't anywhere for me to go.

He took a step toward me, and the large room seemed to shrink and narrow down to just the distance between me and him.

"Don't play coy, naughty girl. You know what you need and I'm exactly the man that's going to give it to you," he said, the insinuation in his tone heavy.

Did he plan to fuck me? Was that what this was? He'd seen that Gregor had his hands on me and he wanted me for himself?

No. That didn't seem right.

He wasn't looking at me like a man that wanted to fuck me. Honestly, there was this sort of weary look on his face rather than one of excitement, which wasn't what I would expect from a man that wanted to take what wasn't his for himself.

I pulled my hands up a bit defensively, watching him with a certain wariness that just seemed to escalate the more time that passed.

"Keep your hands off me," I countered.

"I'm afraid that this isn't how it's going to work, little girl."

"I'm not a little girl! I'm eighteen!" I spat, but he simply raised an eyebrow in response, like he wasn't taking me seriously and I glowered back at him in response. He ignored it.

Asshole.

Then he took another step toward me, and the room shrank even smaller.

My heart hammered in my chest. My palms grew sweaty, and it took everything in me to continue to stand my ground.

"What's going on?" I demanded. What was his game? What did he want from me?

Whatever this was, I had a feeling that I was definitely not going to like it.

"We're going to discuss your punishment."

"Excuse me?" I asked, my stomach dropping when it suddenly occurred to me what he meant.

He meant to discipline me.

"I'm going to take you over my knee, bare your ass, and give you a spanking you won't ever forget, little girl, and then I'm going to put you to bed."

My mouth opened wide in shock.

A spanking?

I'd never been spanked. I'd been grounded and sent to the corner and my room and even ordered to do community service time and time again, but I'd never been put over anyone's knee in my life. Honestly, the very idea of it was ridiculous.

Spankings were for children.

I was a full-grown ass adult.

"Fuck you. I'm not letting you spank me," I countered.

"There will be no letting me, little girl. You're getting a spanking. It's as simple as that," he answered, his tone leaving no room for argument, but I felt like I had to try anyway.

"You're not going to touch me," I snarled, and I took a step backwards.

"That's not up for discussion," he replied and then he closed the distance between us in several large steps. I backed up as far as I could, but my retreat was put to an end the moment my ass brushed up against the wall.

"Get away from me!" I snapped, pushing at his chest. He barely moved. It was like trying to push through a brick wall, completely and utterly useless.

Fuck. This wasn't good.

Maxim wrapped his hand around my wrists and drew my hands away from his chest. Holding them both in one of his, he used the other to tip my chin back and force me to look at him.

His presence surrounded me, and I breathed in deep, the scent of his cologne taking me by storm. It started with a crisp burst of bergamot and a touch of spicy black pepper. Subtle hints of cedarwood, amber, and vanilla followed, crafting a scent of understated luxury and powerful temptation.

For a moment he just stared into my eyes, and I stared back into his. In a rather unexpected development, my core started to pulse with heat, and I swallowed hard, trying to quell whatever this was and having very little success.

This whole situation was spiraling out of control. I needed to get a handle on it and fast.

"Please, just let me go," I whispered, hoping he'd show me some sort of mercy.

"No, little girl," he answered, his tone brokering no room for argument. "You're going over my knee and getting a spanking, malyshka. Don't make this harder than it needs to be," he warned.

"Go to hell," I retorted.

With a heavy sigh, he pulled me forward by my wrists. I wriggled my body and tried to throw myself away from him, but his strength was no match for me. In a frighteningly quick amount of time, he spun me around and forced me over his knee.

Oh, fuck.

This was really happening.

"No! Get off me!"

"Not a chance," he countered, his voice stern as he trapped me under the weight of his arm.

My legs kicked out and flailed wildly, but it was no use. He simply tilted me forward and lifted his leg over the backs of mine, effectively pinning me in place. I tried to kick away from him, but I only succeeded in just barely drumming my toes against the floor.

It finally occurred to me how fucked I was.

Not only was I over Maxim's knee, but I was wearing a skirt. Underneath my far too short skirt, I had on a cheeky pair of panties that left much of my ass bare. I wasn't wearing any tights either, which meant that the cool air kissed the backs of my bare thighs and there was nothing I could do to cover them.

My panic surged anew.

This wasn't an ‘I didn't study for a test' or ‘I forgot to do my homework' kind of panic. This was ‘I was a naughty girl about to get the first spanking of my life' kind of panic.

This was a real kind of panic I'd never felt before.

My stomach was tied up in knots and my heart felt like it had leapt into my throat. I writhed and bucked and twisted on Maxim's lap, trying anything and everything to get him to release his iron-tight hold on me, but nothing worked.

I was thoroughly trapped, and all my efforts had done was make my skirt ride up just enough to expose the lower curves of my ass.

Shame billowed up from the tips of my toes and I chewed the inside of my cheek. In a rush, I reached back to pull my skirt back down, but he just wrapped his fingers around my wrist and pinned it at the small of my back.

The fingertips of his other hand brushed against the backs of my thighs and my breath rushed out of my lungs in a loud whoosh.

"No! No, please! I'll do whatever you want, just please don't spank me," I begged, but he just shook his head.

"You had every opportunity to do as you were told, malyshka, but now it's time for you to accept the consequences of your actions," he scolded, and I'd never felt littler and more vulnerable than I was feeling in that moment.

But then his fingers edged up further until they brushed against the hem of my skirt and my eyebrows practically catapulted to my hairline with shock.

"You can't!" I exclaimed.

He could.

Without a word, he slowly lifted my skirt. With every inch of my ass that he exposed, my face burned brighter and hotter until I was certain I would combust into a thousand pieces. When he had finally raised it to the small of my back, I wanted to shrivel up and disappear.

He was certainly getting an eyeful.

There was no doubt in my mind that he was looking at my quivering cheeks.

I may play the act of the hustler, but at the end of the day, I'd never been with a boy. It was all pretend, so right now, having an older man looking at my mostly bare backside was almost more than I could bear.

I wriggled and squirmed, but I didn't move an inch. He was so much bigger and stronger than me and I started to beg.

"Stop!" I pleaded. "Please, don't. I'll be good."

"It's too late for empty promises, naughty girl," he chided, and my heart pounded even harder.

I thought this was bad.

It immediately got worse.

His fingers wrapped around the waistband of my panties.

"Wait! Please don't take my panties down," I screeched in desperation, and his dark answering chuckle made the knots in my stomach tighten so much that I thought it might burst.

I thought I had been begging before.

I really was now, and he wasn't listening to a word of it.

As Maxim dragged my panties down, the cool air brushed against my skin, and the reality of my situation really hit me.

No matter what I did, no matter what I said, no matter how hard I fought, I was about to get the very first spanking of my life.

Inch by slow inch, he pulled down my underwear, and I clenched my legs tight together hoping to hide my pussy from his view.

Then I realized something else as the air brushed against my most sensitive place.

I was wet.

Wetter than I'd ever been in my life.

So wet that my arousal was dripping down my thighs.

My humiliation was complete.

He was going to find out. I couldn't let him.

The very last thing that I wanted was for him to realize just how much this was turning me on. I pressed my legs together even harder.

I didn't say a word because I didn't trust my voice. Instead, I just chewed the inside of my cheek as I felt the weight of his gaze on my bare cheeks.

I could have died from embarrassment.

My pussy throbbed with need.

And then he started to talk, and his voice was like gravel. I hated… No, I loathed that I liked how it sounded.

"You've been a very naughty girl, malyshka," he scolded and with my bottom entirely bare, I felt just like he said, like a bad girl about to be well and truly spanked for the first time in her life because I'd been so naughty that was the only way to get through to me.

My clit pulsed between my thighs, and I inwardly cursed it. Thank God my breasts were safely encased in my bra because my nips felt hard enough to cut diamonds and I didn't want him to see those either.

A drop of wetness rolled down my thigh and a strangled moan of desperation escaped my lips before I had the forethought to stop it. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that this was all a nightmare and I'd wake up from it any moment now.

I couldn't handle this. My ass bare, my panties pulled down, about to get a spanking and my pussy was soaking wet. It was too much.

And I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Maxim had complete control of my body and for some insane, terrible reason, there was a part of me that was getting off on it.

I hadn't ever thought something was wrong with me before that moment.

I did now.

When his hand settled on my left cheek, I jumped. In a last-ditch effort of pure desperation, I squirmed and writhed over his knee, trying to break his hold on me and failing completely, which just made my shame spiral that much deeper.

My clit throbbed like a drumbeat as I marched to my own doom, and I closed my eyes.

And then, it began.

There was no way I could have readied myself for that very first smack. I couldn't say when his hand lifted from my ass. I couldn't say when it came down either. All I knew was that it hurt.

And it was loud, so loud that it sounded like someone had shot a gun in the middle of the room and that was enough to make me jump again all on its own. His hand was big, and it covered my entire cheek, which made the smack seem that much louder and harder.

Then when the initial shock over the noise faded, the sting followed. The pain felt like a thousand needles stabbing me all at once. I gasped.

But that wasn't even the worst of it.

The absolute worst was the way my arousal surged and flooded through my body in response to his firm hand.

I didn't know how, but it felt like he was punishing my pussy as much as my bare ass and that was worse than the pain of the spanking itself.

"Okay, okay. I've learned my lesson now!" I shrieked and he chuckled softly under his breath.

"Oh, malyshka, I've barely even begun to punish you," he answered.

Then his hand lifted, and he smacked me again. My breath rushed out of my lungs.

Again.

And again.

I tried to kick my feet. I dug my one free hand into the bed and tried to crawl away, but nothing I did gained me even an inch. Instead of escape, I was rewarded with several harder slaps to the lower curves of my cheeks, which I quickly discovered stung more than all of the rest.

He spanked all over my backside, from the cusp of my cheeks all the way down to the tops of my thighs and then without warning, the smacks rained down even harder.

I gasped and slammed my lips shut, making a silent vow to myself to keep quiet and take this whole thing without making a sound.

I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

I'd be a brave girl, a twenty-first century one, in fact. It didn't matter that I felt like a bad little girl right now. It didn't matter that I was getting punished like a naughty child either.

I was a grown woman, and I could take a spanking. I'd be strong and then when it was over, I'd get out of here and never look back.

This spanking would be nothing more than a bad memory.

I was so determined.

So certain.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Like he had heard what was going on inside of my head, his hand seemingly turned into a piece of wood and when I thought the spanking couldn't get any harder, it did.

Before I knew what was happening, a yelp escaped me just as a particularly firm smack connected with my upper thigh. Then another, and another, until my cries were echoing throughout the room.

"Please! Please, please, please," I tried.

"Let's talk about why you're getting your bare little ass spanked bright red, malyshka."

"I understand already! Please, no more," I whimpered.

He didn't listen.

"Not only did you run away from the man trying to protect you, but you fought me every step of the way. You ran off into the night all alone into a dangerous part of the city dressed in clothes that would make any man out on the streets take notice. You need to understand that your reckless decisions have consequences and now that I'm the one taking care of you, that means this bare ass over my knee getting spanked bright red," he scolded and with every word, I felt smaller and smaller.

The most terrible part of it all was that it started to make sense.

With Gregor, I'd bitten off more than I could chew. When I'd denied him my body yet again, he'd gotten angry, which only escalated into a fight between the two of us that was inevitably noticed by the rest of the bar. Maxim had been the one to protect me; hell, he'd killed Gregor for me and that would bring dangerous consequences all on its own.

And then, to make matters worse, I'd run off in a city I didn't know, dressed in a short skirt and tank top, with no plans and no place to stay for the night.

I'd run from the only man trying to protect me. I don't know why he cared, why he'd been hell bent on trying to keep me safe, but I didn't question it. Not anymore.

Maxim was right.

I was a naughty girl. I deserved this spanking, and the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

My arousal spiraled higher, and he spanked me even harder. I cried out. I pleaded for mercy, but it didn't stop.

A terrible realization hit me then.

This was never going to stop because I wanted it to. It was only going to end when Maxim decided I had been spanked long enough, hard enough, whichever came first, maybe both. I didn't know.

He kept spanking me, his hand coming down in a steady rhythm that was starting to make my whole bottom burn. I twisted and turned over his lap, trying anything and everything to avoid the punishing slaps that seemed to land all over the place with no rhyme or reason.

The burn quickly blazed into a fiery inferno, spiraling hotter until the only thing I could focus on was the stinging pain. His hand was relentless. It felt like it was imprinting its shape on the surface of my skin, each smack throwing more fuel on the fire and making it burn hotter.

He started to spank the tops of my thighs in rapid succession, and I came to understand something else very quickly.

He was spanking me hard enough that if this went on much longer, I was going to cry.

I didn't want to cry.

I knew I didn't have a choice.

Maybe that was his goal.

"I'm so sorry! I'll never be bad again!" I vowed. Honestly, I would have promised him my left kidney or my firstborn child to make this stop, but he ignored my pleading and just continued punishing me.

The next time his hand came down, I lost the battle and my eyes watered. A soft yelp escaped me, and I clamped my lips shut, but it wasn't enough. His hand came down again and as hard as I tried to stop it, a sob burst free from me. Then another followed, getting harder and harder, one after the other until tears were dripping down my cheeks in earnest.

It wasn't until his hand smacked the tender undercurve of my bottom that I really started to cry.

Not just cry.

Bawl.

I had never cried like that before in my life.

Then the spanking finally started coming to an end, or at least I hoped it would. His hand still smacked hard, but the cadence had slowed down, and it eventually stopped when I was lying limp over his knees with my bare ass quivering and clenching from the intense burn.

My clit throbbed so hard that my hips nearly bucked.

I swallowed a sob.

Then his hand settled on my blazing backside, and he squeezed.

Hard.

"Are you going to be a good girl?"

I nodded quickly, sniffling and rubbing my eyes.

"Y-yes, sir," I whimpered.

"Good. Because next time I'll be taking off my belt," he warned, and my eyes opened wide at his threat.

His belt?

How much more would that hurt than his hand? I couldn't even imagine and a part of me didn't want to because it was making my core squeeze tighter and my clit thrum even harder.

Why was I so fucking aroused right now? I'd just gotten my bare backside spanked hard enough to make me cry and I wanted nothing more than for his fingers to reach between my thighs and for him to make me come, right here, with my bright red bottom on display while I did it.

I was so fucking deranged that it wasn't even funny.

It was shameful. I hated it.

That didn't change the fact that it was true.