“Stace?” he says as I’m about to step through the doorway. I turn and look at him and notice that he is slowly closing the door again.

I smile and joke: “Yes, sir? Is there anything else you’d like, sir? Some fresh towels perhaps?”

“Yes,” he says. “Take off your panties.”

I stop breathing as I look up at him. He stares back with those hard, dark eyes.

My breath comes quick. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that.”

He takes a step forward. “Give me your panties, Stace.”

“I can’t,” I tell him pointedly. “I’m not wearing any.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not sure…” I tell him. It’s the truth, too, I’m not sure why I didn’t wear them. Maybe because squeezing into this dress was hell enough to begin with. Maybe because I was going to a dinner with the billionaire I had masturbated too earlier, an old family friend, but no that couldn’t be it because that felt so wrong.

Mason raises his brow and says nothing.

“Is it a problem?” I ask.

He shakes his head slowly. “No,” he answers. “But why wouldn’t you wear panties, Stace?” he asks me and he steps forward again so that he towers over me, looming down. I gaze up to meet his dark eyes, almost finding myself lost in them again as they softly twitch in their sockets, and I find it hard to resist their allure. “It seems highly inappropriate, no?” he almost whispers.

“No more inappropriate than the spanking you gave me,” I counter. “Am I in trouble again?”

“Would you like to be?”

I’m not sure how to answer it, or if I should answer it, or whether I should even be here. I simply stand still with my hands behind my back, waiting on him to speak first. Mason moves toward his bed and sits down on the edge and brings his gaze back to me — it is startlingly sharp and I feel almost naked. “Come here, Stace,” he demands.

I obey and walk over to stand in front of him. His eyes flick down my body and settle on my midsection. “Show me,” he says.

Stacy, what are you doing?

I push the thoughts deep down and go on instinct. I grasp the bottom of my dress with trembling fingers and pull it upward to reveal my naked lower half. Mason’s face shows no expression, no sudden twitch of passion or disapproval, but his eyes dilate in the light. Mere seconds pass but it feels like an eternity as I stand there with my lower body exposed to him, my father’s business partner, my family’s longtime friend.

My heart pounds in my chest and I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until I begin a gasp for air that I quickly stifle.

Mason grabs my wrist and breaks me from the spell. He yanks me over his lap in one singular motion and I gasp, taken by surprise. “Is this what you want?” he asks me, laying his hand across my bare ass.

“Yes.”

I say it without hesitation, sighing with his touch, the feel of that powerful hand upon my skin, feeling my cheeks almost twitch in anticipation, awaiting the arrival of that red flash. I sense Mason raising his hand and I brace myself for that searing pain, that blissful teasing pleasure. But his palm doesn’t connect. I open my eyes and look up at him.

“How tight is your cunt?”

I blink. “What?”

A blinding flash of red pain shoots through my body as his open hand connects to my ass. The sting is barely receding when again I feel his palm connect once more and I squirm in his lap, my back arches and my feet kick upward. I bite my lip as I ride out the pleasure and the pain, looking forward to the open windows, staring out across the city.

Mason growls. “How tight is your cunt, Stacy?”

My body quakes still from the spanking and when I answer my voice is ragged. “Tight,” I say.

“Do you know what this is?” Mason asks.

At first, I am unsure of what he means but then I feel it and my flesh goosebumps from the sudden touch. I feel it slide inside, so easily I realize how wet I must be, deeper, stretching me. It’s not soft, not like a finger. It’s hard and cold, like a smooth metal. Mason pushes it in as far as it’ll go and rests the outer piece between my folds, just barely touching my clit. My body shudders from the physical and mental contact occurring and I bite my lip harder as my breathing becomes labored.

From his right jacket pocket, I watch him pull out his phone. “I want you to keep that inside you for the rest of the night.”

“Why?”

He flicks his thumb on the screen and the object inside of me turns on — the low vibration tickles me and I laugh at the teasing pleasure.

Mason leans in. “I’m going to play with you, Stace,” he whispers. “Place it inside you again in the morning, bright and early, and keep it for the day. You’ll never know when it’s coming. You could be on the elevator or cleaning a room… and I’ll…”

He holds the phone up close so I can see the screen and I wince when I see the gadget’s setting is at its lowest. Mason slides a finger up on the screen, taking it up a notch, and suddenly I am overwhelmed with a vibration that intensifies inside of me. My jaw drops, feeling that perfect push against my inner spot and I nearly come right here and now while spread across his lap.

“Fuck…” I groan, biting my lip.

Mason smiles and turns it off with a quick flick of his finger. “Stand up, Stace,” he says.

I pull down my dress as I do so, catching a glimpse of my glistening nether. Then as cool and calm as ever, Mason takes my hand and walks me back to the door. He pecks me on the cheek and tells me it was great to catch up and that he’ll see me tomorrow, but he doesn’t specify the details and before I can ask I am already descending in the elevator.

Just walking back to my room gently stimulates me. I can barely feel whatever toy it was that Mason inserted, save for the outer piece that gently teases my clit depending on my movement.

Once I’m back to my room the teasing has almost pushed me over the edge but I manage to gain control of myself, over my body and push back that pressing need for a release. I go to the bathroom, flick on the light and then regard myself in the mirror. My eyes are bright, wide, and if they show any part of the shame that reaches from my depths then I am blind to it.

Just thinking of the day’s events makes me bite my lip again.

I hitch up my skirt and feel along my folds, touching the hard rubber surface of the outer piece that sits there neatly, nestled and waiting to spur to action. Mason said it could do so at any moment and the thought of this, the sheer anticipation is keeping my insides wet. As I explore the device I can feel the other end deep inside me move in response and the micro-movements almost cause me to orgasm, so I leave it alone and pull my skirt down again.

Jesus, Stacy, I think to myself.

Even though it’s only ten o’clock, I get myself ready for bed and by the time I’m wrapped up under the sheets I’m already half falling asleep while I try to read one of the horror novels Mason had gifted me in the past.

What a day.

It truly was. There was no way I’d be able to even imagine today’s events if someone asked me how I thought the day was going to transpire. The alarm clock had started my day with a headache, with me waking up in this very bed that I now was going to fall asleep in, only this time I had a remote-controlled vibrator deep inside me — placed there by Mason Lockwood, of all people.

I shift in under the covers. My ass still hurts from the spanking, and earlier in the mirror, I could see that it was still colored a bright flame-red.

I close the book and set it aside, giving in to the realization that there is no way I can concentrate on reading tonight — I’m still too turned on right now. There is a fleeting moment where I consider rubbing one out but something about this seems wrong, in the sense that Mason wouldn’t want me to do it. The thought of him dictating his desires to me turns me on even more.

Perhaps coming home was a good choice after all. Sure the weeks up until now have been boring and average, but that is a pretty accurate description of myself, anyhow. I don’t know what Mason sees in me. He can get so much better than my average looking, overweight self. Hell, he is probably banging a supermodel right this second, he probably has her bent over his bed—

I force myself to stop thinking about it.

He has been a friend to the family long enough that I know Mason is a man that takes what he wants, knows what he wants. If he wants to take me for whatever spanking, controlling fetish he has, I am adamant about letting him do so. Why not? He is unbelievably hot and any moment my rogue brain thinks of his powerful hand colliding with my ass is one filled with a sexual bliss I’ve never experienced. That mix of sexuality and shame is becoming addicting.

Why should I question his tastes in women if I’m on the receiving end of such pleasure? Now is not the time to let self-doubt and crippling low confidence ruin this, Stacy. It’s not like men are hammering down my door in interest, anyhow.

I find myself reaching down under the sheets, between my legs, probing just beneath the rubber plug of the toy, until my fingertip takes a furtive glance across my aching clit. The sensation is a searing mini-firework and I pull my hand away.

A stolen pleasure.

You’re being a bad girl, Stace, I hear Mason say in my thoughts. A very bad girl. And bad girls get spanked, don’t they?

In my fantasy, I nod my head in agreement and half turn to present my bare ass for him. He places his hand on my waist to steady me as his other hand comes down hard on my right ass cheek, again and again until I am engulfed in that red flaring pain that aches my skin and tickles my insides.

I remove my glasses and set them on the bedside table and get comfortable, welcoming the fantasy as my eyes become heavy and slide closed.

Who’s my girl? I hear him say through the darkness of my encroaching dreams.

I am, I reply in a quiet whisper, unsure if its a thought or spoken. I’m your bad girl.

And with this, I willingly drift into an endless erotic dream.