...“Has a man ever put you over his knee?” he asked.

Warmth spread across her face and neck. She clasped her hands behind her back, her spine straightening. “No man would dare.”

Roughly he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her toward the bed. He sat and turned her over his knee, tilting her so far forward she threw her hands out to keep from flipping over. Laughter escaped by instinct, her hair draping over her face prevented her from seeing anything.

“This man would dare,” he rumbled, his voice thunderous yet playful.

Her body rocked forward, her hips rolling across his thigh. She heard his breathing change and knew hers matched his, hungry for more of their wicked games.

“You would never—”

He slapped her hard across the ass, his swat cushioned by the linen of her skirt and the wool of her overskirt. “I would, woman,” he growled. “Swallow your pride.”

Slowly she rocked back, her toes touching the floor and her legs squeezed tight together against the building pressure between her thighs. “I will not,” she said, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Grái issued two more slaps against her ass and she bit her lip, feeling warmth spread along her backside. Her clitoris ached against the building pressure, throbbing enough to make her want to hold her breath.

Tapia grabbed hold of his ankle to steady herself, the leverage enabling her to rock faster against his leg and vary the pressure. Each hard slap against her ass rubbed her hard against his lap and left her groaning for more.

“What say you?”

“You would need…” She paused, swallowing hard. His hand left her ass and gently stroked the backs of her thighs, which she instinctively parted. “You would need to break my spirit.”

The king caressed her in long, sweeping motions, petting her through her skirts until she groaned louder, her body sensitive and responsive thanks to his swats. Inch by inch he raised her skirts until the cooler air in the room swept up her inner thighs, replaced in waves by his caress. The rough spots on his hands gave her goose bumps, sent a shiver racing through her.

“Nay,” he said, his voice lower than before. “I shall not break your spirit.”

His fingers pushed her thighs farther apart, her stiff little clitoris pressing against his leg. She went limp to his touch, concentrating on her breathing and the feel of his hand between her legs, rubbing her back and forth through the build of arousal soaking the tuft of hair at the apex of her thighs. Back and forth he stroked her, his fingers never penetrating her, though he moved with agonizing precision from her slit back between her ass cheeks.

Breathing became nearly impossible as he focused on her sensitive, throbbing ass. She tightened her vaginal muscles, her hands clenched, knuckles against the floor. He rubbed circles around her round ass, then back and forth between her cheeks with his thumb.

“How much more shall you suffer?”

“A great deal more.”

He grunted and wet his thumb with her juices. Heat spread through her, radiated from her core as she lay helpless over his knee, a willing victim to her pleasure. Slowly he prodded at her, his thumb pressed firmly against her puckered flesh. Her back curled to the new sensation, her hips rocked hard against his lap. She didn’t know what she wanted more, to reach climax right there, or wait to see what else he could do to her.

“You wish to suffer for your pride, woman?”

“For the sake of disobedience,” she answered.

“Shall I make you suffer more indignities?”

“If you deem it necessary,” she answered.