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punish me over his lap, but because I’d already failed him, failed to follow a simple command. He dropped the belt and started with his hand, smacking his palm against the semi-sheer fabric of my brand-new nightie. I held myself as still as possible, emotion flooding through me, trying to behave for Connor as I’d tried for Byron. I’d made Byron my Dom. He hadn’t given me anything I wanted, but I had supplicated myself for him, suffocated myself for him, hoping perhaps somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain that he’d ultimately reward me if I was good enough.
    Hadn’t I learned anything from Brock? With the right man in charge, I would never be good enough. That was the whole point. Connor taught me that little lesson again, his strong hand carefully slipping the golden fabric to my hips, then dragging my panties down my thighs. He used his open palm again and again, and soon thoughts stopped as the flush of pain took over. Still I didn’t struggle. I didn’t make a sound. Which told Connor quickly enough that he had to work me more seriously. He didn’t want my silence. He wanted to know that the spanking was having a proper effect. Only when my skin was cherry-flushed to his satisfaction did he push me back onto the bed and tell me to lock my hands together over my head. I licked my bottom lip, then bit into it as I saw him double his belt before making the leather snap.
    I felt as if I’d been underwater for three years. Felt as if for the first time in ages, I could finally breathe. Connor set his hand against my cheek. He bent down and kissedme, and then stood back and let the belt meet my ass for the first time. The sound of the belt was more intense than the first stripe. That whip-crack of leather through silence, then the intake of my breath, and Connor admonished me, “Stay still, Sam. Don’t move. Don’t move an inch. You’ve got a long fucking night ahead of you. And you know it, too. Because you deserve this. Don’tcha? Don’t you deserve this?” It was a crooning question, almost singsong, making fun of me somehow, teasing me.
    When I didn’t speak right away, he was on me as Brock had been. Always answer a direct question. Don’t forget this. Learn from my mistakes. His hand tilting my chin up towards him, his eyes flashing a look I’d never seen in their striking blue before.
    And suddenly I understood. He wasn’t punishing me because I wanted it, because I touched myself at night and dreamed of him being rough with me. He was doing this because for four months I had flirted with him, had kissed him, had fucked him, and then gone back home to someone else. He had never asked me to leave Byron, had rarely mentioned the man’s name at all. But he had known that I kept my clothes lined up neatly next to Byron’s in the closet. That I ate breakfast each morning at his table, when I could stomach a bite. That I spent weekends with his family.
    I hadn’t been unfaithful to Byron. I had cheated on Connor.
    The belt flashed in the air, and I gritted my teeth and told myself that I would take whatever he had to give. I owed him. Sure, I had almost zero money in the bank. But that didn’t matter to Connor. That night he made me pay with something far more precious than cash.



Chapter Six:
Black Coffee in Bed
    In the morning, Connor had to get up at five for a photo shoot. We’d had a ferocious night fucking, and I remember looking up at him, bleary-eyed, as he gave me his classic smirk and pulled on his boots. I ordered room-service coffee and stared out the window, watching Los Angeles wake up and realizing I’d never have to worry about whether I’d bought the proper mouthwash again.
    Goodbye, Byron.
    When I rolled over on the mattress, I saw that Connor had left his belt hanging over the back of the chair. My stomach tightened and I closed my eyes, picturing the previous evening, imagining what might happen to me on the next. I simply had to wait sixteen hours or so until we could