I'm soaked, my panties clinging to my skin. I grind against him, needing the friction, the release.

His free hand slips under the hem of my panties, his fingers sliding through my wetness.

"Oh god," I gasp, arching into his touch.

"That's right, baby," he murmurs, his voice deep and husky.

"Please," I beg, my voice hoarse with desire.

He rubs my clit, his fingers circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. The tension within me grows, tightening with each movement.

"You're so wet," he says, his voice laced with lust. "So ready for me."

"Mhm," I whimper.

He inserts two fingers inside me, stretching me. The sensation is overwhelming, sending shockwaves through me. I can't help but buck my hips against him, desperate for more.

"Are you a bad girl, Emma?" He asks, his lips moving against my skin.

"What do you mean?" I gasp, the question barely registering.

"Are you a bad girl, Emma?" he repeats, his voice a low rumble.

"No, I'm a good girl," I protest, my voice shaky.

He chuckles. "We'll see about that."

He continues his movements, his fingers pumping in and out of me. The pleasure is building, coiling tighter and tighter.

"Oh god, I'm going to come," I cry out.

"Not yet," he growls, his voice strained. "Not until I allow it."

The words send a thrill through me, the dominance in his voice exciting me. I hold back, struggling against the waves of pleasure threatening to overwhelm me.

He keeps going, his fingers driving me towards the edge. The tension is almost unbearable, my body aching for release.

He slides his fingers out of me, trailing them up my body until they rest on my lips. "Open," he orders, and I obey. He slides his fingers into my mouth, the taste of myself coating my tongue. I swirl my tongue around his fingers, licking them clean.

"You are a good girl," he praises, his voice thick with desire. "You're doing so well."

His words only add to the heat coursing through me. I can't help but moan around his fingers.

"Fuck," he groans, the word sending shivers down my spine.

I'm a mess, a whimpering, desperate mess.

"Lie on the bed," he orders, his voice a deep rumble.

I crawl onto the bed, the sheets cool against my flushed skin. He stands over me, his gaze hungry and possessive.

"Open your legs," he commands. "And slide your panties off slowly."

I comply, spreading my legs wide and sliding the damp fabric down my thighs. I feel exposed and vulnerable, but the feeling only adds to the excitement.

He kneels between my legs, his eyes roaming over my naked body. His fingers trace along my inner thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He moves higher, finally reaching the apex of my thighs. He gently strokes my folds, his fingers teasing and exploring.

"So wet and ready for me," he murmurs, his voice husky.

He presses two fingers inside me, curling them just right. He parts my folds, his thumb stroking my clit.

"Such a pretty pussy," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "And all mine."

I can't help the moans that escape me, the pleasure too much to contain.

"Please," I gasp, the word coming out like a whimper.

He keeps up the sweet torture, his fingers sliding in and out of me. The pressure is building, the tension winding tighter.

His mouth joins his hand between my legs. I cry out as his tongue flicks against my clit.

"Oh god," I moan, the pleasure crashing over me.

My body arches, my hands gripping the sheets.

He sucks and nibbles, his mouth driving me to the edge. The pressure is too much, the pleasure too intense.

And then all at once it's gone. I open my eyes to see him propped up on his knees, looking at me.

"Don't move." He orders, and I obey.

His hands find the towel around his waist. I watch, mesmerized, as he yanks it off, revealing his cock. He's big, his girth impressive.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, Emma." He lines himself up with my entrance, his cock pressing against me. "I'm going to make you scream."

The pressure is almost too much, my body struggling to adjust to his size.

He pauses. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I gasp, the sensation almost too much. "Keep going."

He continues to push, inch by inch, filling me.

"Oh god," I groan.

"You feel so good, baby girl," he says, his voice strained.

He starts moving, his thrusts slow and deep.

"Fuck," he groans, his cock sliding in and out of me.

The tension is building again, coiling tighter with each movement.

"God, you're so tight," he growls, his voice husky and raw.

I cling to him, my fingers digging into his back.

"Scratch me, baby girl. Mark me, let the world know you're mine. At least for tonight."

I obey, my nails dragging along his skin. He hisses, the sound sending a thrill through me.

He picks up his pace, his thrusts harder and faster.

His mouth finds my neck again. His kisses are gentle but turn into small nips and sucking. Is he trying to leave a hickey?

The thought makes me hotter, and I meet his thrusts.

"How rough can I be?" He asks, his lips brushing against the hollow of my neck.

"As rough as you want," I reply, my voice breathy and desperate.

"That's what I like to hear."

His grip tightens on my hips, his fingers pressing into my skin. He pulls me closer, his cock sliding deeper.

The pleasure is overwhelming, my body trembling with each thrust.

"You're so perfect, baby girl," he murmurs, his breath hot on my ear. "Such a good girl, taking my cock so well."

"Yes," I cry out, the praise spurring me on.

He grips me tighter, his pace punishing.

"You're mine, Emma. All mine."

"Yes, yours," I agree, the words tumbling out of me. I know these words are being exchanged in the heat of the moment, but right now, I would say anything he wanted me to.

The tension is almost unbearable, my body screaming for release.

His hands rest on my shoulders, holding me in place. He's using me for his own pleasure and I've never been more turned on.

He slams into me, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. I can feel the tension coiling within me, the pleasure too much to contain.

My vision blurs, stars dancing before my eyes.

"I'm going to come," I cry out, my voice hoarse and ragged.

"Not yet," he orders.

"Please," I beg, the word coming out like a sob.

"Not yet."

I can't hold back any longer. The pressure is too much, the tension too tight.

I fall over the edge, my body tensing, every nerve ending exploding. I cry out, the pleasure washing over me in waves.

He pulls out of me, stroking his cock once, twice. And then warm liquid lands on my stomach, coating my skin.

"You disobeyed me, baby girl," he whispers.

My heart beats fast. Did I do something wrong?

"You came without permission."

"I'm sorry," I say, the words coming out as a whimper.

"Don't apologize. Just be a good girl and learn from your mistakes. You will get punished for this."

Punished? What does that mean? I feel a thrill running down my spine, the thought of being disciplined exciting me.

"Yes, Sir."

He smiles, his eyes softening. "Good girl. Let's get cleaned up."

He disappears into the bathroom, returning with a washcloth. He gently cleans my skin, his touch tender.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice shaky.

"You're welcome," he says, his lips grazing my forehead.

The room is silent, the air thick with emotion. I take a moment to catch my breath, my mind reeling from the intensity of the experience.

"I didn't realize how badly I needed that," I admit, breaking the silence.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm glad I could help."

"Do you do this often? Pick up girls at the bar?"

He chuckles. "No, not really. But there's something about you."

I blush, his words warming my heart.

I'm suddenly aware of my nudity, my skin cooling. "I should probably get back to my room," I say, moving to get up.

"No," he says, his tone commanding. "You still have to be punished."

"I do?" I ask, surprised. I didn't think he was actually being serious.

"Yes. And if you're a good girl, I'll let you come again."

"Okay," I agree a little too fast, my voice barely a whisper. It's been too long since I've came from someone else's touch. Really, it would be irresponsible to pass this up, right?

He smirks, his gaze darkening. "Lie on the bed."

I obey, my pulse quickening.

He takes a pillow and places it under my hips, angling me towards him. "Spread your legs," he orders.

I comply, feeling the air cool on my wetness.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his hand brushing over my clit.

"You're such a good girl," he praises, his fingers circling my sensitive bud. "But sometimes even good girls need to be punished."

"Yes, Sir," I agree, the words coming out like a moan.

"Tell me, Emma, what's your safe word?"

"Red," I respond, the word familiar.

"Good girl."

He trails his fingers down, dipping into my slickness. He circles my entrance, teasing me.

But instead of the feel of his fingers sliding in, I instead feel the sharp sting of a slap. My legs instinctively try to close, but he holds them open.

"Count," he orders.

"One," I say, my voice trembling.

Another slap, this time harder.

"Two," I cry out.

Each hit sends a mixture of pain and pleasure through me. I've never experienced anything like this, and the thought of more punishment makes my skin heat.

"Three."

"Four."

"Five."

"Six."

With each slap, my body responds, the tension within me building. I'm teetering on the edge, my body humming with anticipation.

"Seven."

"Eight."

"Nine."

"Ten."

I'm a mess, a whimpering, writhing mess.

"You're doing so well," he praises, his voice thick with desire.

I can't help the moans escaping me, the pain and pleasure intertwining.

"Tell me, baby girl, how does it feel?"

"It hurts."

"Is that all, or do you like it? Do you like being punished?"

"I do," I gasp, the words tumbling out of me. "I love it."

"That's my good girl."

His hand slips between my legs, his fingers finding my clit. He strokes and circles, the pleasure building within me.

"You're going to come for me," he commands, his voice low and husky. "And you're not going to stop until I tell you."

"Yes, Sir," I agree, the words coming out like a sob.

The pressure is almost unbearable, the pleasure and pain mixing, blurring together.

He slides his fingers in, hitting every perfect spot possible. "Come for me," he orders.

The tension snaps, the pleasure washing over me. I cry out, the sensation too much to contain. I ride the waves of ecstasy, the intensity overwhelming.

He keeps going, his fingers stroking me, drawing the pleasure out. "Again."

"I can't," I gasp, my body trembling. The pressure grows and it's almost painful.

"Yes, you can. Come for me."

I'm shaking, the tension too much. My body feels like it's about to shatter.

And then it does. Another orgasm hits, the waves of pleasure crashing over me.

"That's my good girl," he murmurs, his fingers slowing their movement.

I'm a boneless heap, my body spent.

"Now thank me for punishing you," he says.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Good girl."

The words are soft, a reward for obeying him.

He lies beside me, his hands roaming over my body, his touch soothing.

I can't help but curl into him, my body seeking his warmth.

"Did that make your bad night any better?"

"It did," I admit, a smile playing on my lips.

He trails his fingers up and down my spine, the gesture relaxing me.

"What time is it?" I ask, suddenly aware of how late it must be.

"Almost two."

"I should probably get going," I say, moving to sit up.

"No," he says, his tone commanding. "Stay."

"But-"

"Stay."

I don't know why I am even trying to argue. What would be the harm in staying? I have nowhere to be in the morning. Mom's rehearsal dinner is tomorrow evening, but I have nowhere to be before that.

"Okay."

I curl up beside him, all too aware of our completely naked bodies pressing up agaibst each other. The muscles between my legs still pulse, still reeling from the multiple orgasms.

"Sleep, my sweet," he whispers, his lips brushing against my forehead.

His arms are warm and strong, and I melt into him, drifting off to sleep.