SURRENDER
Sophia Valenti

Icross the threshold of his office, standing before his desk while he silently shuffles papers and pretends not to notice me. But I know he’s aware of my presence. I can tell by his unnatural posture—slightly stiff and without an ounce of relaxation. That pleases me a tiny bit, but the sight does nothing to quell the beautiful apprehension and delicious fear that’s welling up inside me.

I’m here because of what he can give me—because of what I need. He’s the only man who’s been able to truly satisfy all of those dark cravings swirling inside me. I see him a few times a year, when he’s in town on business. A simple text tells me the date and time, and I let myself into his spacious penthouse apartment, dressed as he expects: in a sheer white blouse and short plaid skirt—no panties.

The window behind him is filled with a stunning view, the bright lights of the skyline punctuating the velvety blackness of the sky. The city is humming with the rhythmic pulsations of the night, and that energy is pumping through my veins.

He looks up, his face expressionless but his eyes glowing with erotic hunger.

“Yes?” he asks, feigning ignorance and making my cheeks heat with embarrassment. This is our routine, but no matter how many times we play, the words don’t come to me any easier. I swallow nervously, trying to find my voice.

“I’m here for my appointment, Sir,” I manage to utter.

“Appointment? For what?” He tries to stay in character, but his lips curl up in a subtle smile. My pussy grows damper with each passing second.

“For my punishment.” The words fall from my lips as a whisper. On most visits, that hushed confession wouldn’t be enough. The fact that he didn’t make me repeat myself lets me know how eager he is for this scene to begin. And how much he wants to hurt me.

He glances at his desk calendar and nods. “Oh, yes—it’s right here: Midnight: Bend a naughty girl over your desk and spank her bare ass until she’s learned her lesson.”

He stands, and my heart leaps into my throat. In seconds, he’s pushed me forward. I grasp the far edge of the desk, feeling my breasts crush beneath me as he flips up my skirt. Cool air wafts over my naked cunt, and I blush even more deeply, knowing how wet I am.

I gaze up at the window, the city lights seeming to dim as his reflection captures my attention. I arch my back, offering myself to him even as I hold my breath in anticipation of that first spark of pain. Grabbing my hair, he holds my body taut. His free hand connects and pain flares through me, reminding me that this is the one place—the one moment—where I feel whole. My world is reduced to this room, where my Master obliterates all of my thoughts and truths. I am no more than his plaything to punish and please.

The pain loses its sharpness, but its fiery heat consumes me. I lose count of how many times his hand lands. The numbers don’t matter. What does matter is my surrender. He knows the exact moment it happens. He feels the stubbornness leave me, my sense of self scattering on the wind of my sighs.

His cock fills me in an instant, and I’m so grateful I nearly cry. Burying my face in my folded arms, I let him take me as hard and fast as he needs, because each thrust of his hips, each slap of his balls against my clit, takes me higher and higher.

He groans as his shaft pulses inside me, and my cunt clutches him in rhythmic spasms as pleasure flows through me. I will myself to hold on to this perfect feeling until we meet again.