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“Wordlessly, he continues spanking, finding a rhythm. I gasp, breathing in muffled sobs as prickling sensation turns to searing pain. “I won’t, sir,” I whimper, defeated. I give a ragged cry as he smacks me one last time. “You’re sure?” he asks, steadying his hand on my stinging skin. “Because I can do this all night.” “Yes, sir,” I whisper, voice shaking. At that, his touch softens. He presses his hand against my warm skin, rubbing slow, grounding circles along the curve of my hip. He leans over me, pressing a kiss to the nape of my neck. “Good girl, Mia,” he murmurs, his voice low and pleased. He turns me gently, pulling me into his lap. The weight of his arm over me steadies my breath again. I rest my head on his chest, melting into the closeness I’ve been craving.” — Isabel van Loen