Now, as The Beast’s hand landed on her abused arse, she felt her cunny tingle. “What are you—” she began. Rose lay down on her bed and hitched her shift back up. I have been teaching her. She remembered being bent over The Beast’s lap, one hand holding her down while the other spanked her. A search through the house’s bedrooms yielded a more promising avenue of attack: an old but serviceable box of make-up. Beneath her, she felt something in The Beast’s lap swell. “Every word you speak will make this worse for you.”
He brought down his hand on her bare arse with a smack that echoed like nearby thunder, drawing a stifled gasp from Rose. Catching her halfway to the floor, he wrenched her around by her shoulders and pushed on her back to bend her over his lap. “I did not even suggest that she should,” retorted The Beast. Spanking her was making his cock hard.
