Bone's Country 9 (Patreon)

He reached down… petting the expanse of bare flesh just under the hem of her chemise. “I didn’t tell you to do that,” he said, teasingly flicking the hem up the back of her thigh and letting it fall back down.

Sophia turned around to beguile him with her lovelorn eyes. She was quick with an explanation. “I didn’t want anyone else to see me like this… I’m yours… for you only… please, love me. Touch me. Do whatever you want to me.“ All those words came free of Sophia, slipping loose like an exhale after she’d held her breath for too long.

She was shocked to realize it was her own voice she was hearing. Every inch of her shuddered, not with anticipation now, but with need. She didn’t think it was for him—it was for release, an end to this tension. Even if it meant the hot bright pain of his hand crashing against her flesh. Perhaps especially then…

“Face the wall again. Lift up your dress. And if you lower it again without my say-so, I’ll rip it off you.”

Sophia’s mouth felt dry. Her tongue swollen. Now that she knew his discipline was coming, fear sprung into her like ants on a fallen fruit. “Jeremiah, please…”

“I felt the bullets go by me, puta. Smelled ‘em in the air.”

“Alright, jefe, alright,” Sophia heard herself saying. “I’ll take my punishment.”

His left hand collared the back of her neck, pushing her forward until her skull was pinned between the two joining walls of the corner. There he held her, while his right hand ran down her arm, feeling the faintly quivering muscles that held her chemise obediently up above her plump ass.

“Yeah, you’re a good girl. My good girl.” Teasingly, Bone pressed at her wrist, but Sophia held onto the fabric, keeping it up out of the way of whatever he wanted to do to her exposed rump. “Long as you’re being good, why don’t you help me learn a little Espanol? I want you to count how many lessons I teach you tonight, in the mother tongue. I already know a few of those. Like the first, that’s uno.”

His hand swooped high into the air and came down with a whistle, not stopping until there was a loud smack on the round flesh of her buttocks.

Sophia cried out, her flesh stung, seared. But she did not move, did not try to cover herself, though she knew the next blow was coming… and it did… cracking against the other half of her rump…

“That was dos, correct?”

“Si,” Sophia gasped, her teeth clenched against the pain. It was an effort to open them so she could tell Bone what he wanted to hear. “Dos.”

“And what comes next?” Bone asked before his flattened hand came down…

“Tres!” Sophia cried out, before the feel of the impact could make her moan and steal her voice.

“Keep going,” Bone ordered her, his voice rough, a thing that had to be obeyed—a demon in him, not the man she could reason with...

“Quatro! Cinco! Seis! Siete!”

Bone stopped before the pain could sink down into numbness, before she could get used to it. But she knew he wasn’t done. Not with an uneven number like seven. The next was coming, it was coming. Her breath flew in and out in shallow gasps.

“Go on. Try to deny me. Tell me I can't fuck you however I want,” Bone gritted out, his breath a whirlwind of burning air upon the nape of her neck. Scorching it to match the tips of her ears and her tender, flaring buttocks.

The shower of blows returned, growing in intensity. “Nueve! Diez! Once! Doce! You’re hurting me!”

“I’m punishing you. Just like when you were a little nina and your father caught you being bad.”

“You’re not my father!”

“But you do belong to me. You don’t have a father, you don’t have a husband, but you do have me. And what I do to you.”

The pain was too much. Oceans of tears formed in the corners of her eyes and swept down her cheeks. Sophia sobbed around the numbers that came out of her mouth, fired like bullets by the triggering strikes to her rump. The pain sank into her… the sensation deepened, becoming something not merely felt, but pervasive. Consuming Sophia until there was nothing of her unconnected to the pain… or whatever this dull, throbbing ache had become.

“Trece! Catorce! Quince! Dieciséis!”

She pushed her hips backward, remembering she had done this before—the routine came with familiarity to her—she felt Bone step closer, pressing his bulging groin against her buttocks until they flattened into his lap. She undulated… rubbing herself against the hardness she felt within his well-worn clothes… caressing him and herself and feeding fuel to the fire of her pain, aggravating her own flushed red flesh as though to finish the job Bone had started.

His response was even stronger than when they’d come together; he didn’t just want to punish her, he wanted this submission from her. Sophia couldn’t stop herself from smiling: that was power. She could give him what he wanted. As he had given her… whatever this feeling was.

“Diecisiete! Dieciocho! Diecinueve! Veinte!”

Possessed or entranced or simply mastered, Sophia rocked herself against the worn denim at Bone’s crotch, straining already to contain him and now having to handle her. Bone set his chin on her shoulder. His stubbled cheek grated against the side of her face. His lips brushed the softness where her tears had descended.

“Why don’t you want to be punished, huh? When you enjoy it so much? What is it—how excited you get? Because you like it from me when you’d hate it from anyone else? Or is it just too much for you?”

“Because I can almost feel like your wife when you don’t hit me… then you make me feel like your whore. Give me your love, jefe, I want your love…”

Anger seized Bone. He didn’t enjoy hurting women per se, but he couldn’t deny feeling a charge when there was pain mixed in with Sophia’s pleasure… when he’d taken her ass, made her gag, fired her excitement by striking her ass. And there was a part of him that didn’t want Sophia to enjoy this, not after she’d mistreated him, not when she needed to learn.

She loved him, but that was easy for Sophia when she hadn’t been the one betrayed. Bone didn’t want her love. He wanted her to do as she was told. It would keep her alive and alive, she could take his love. The dead, he knew with unshakable conviction, could only grow more and more faint. Nothing could be infused in them besides regret.

His eyes wandered to the rug laid across the middle of the floor. Like a target in a gunfight, as soon as Bone was presented with the opportunity, he had to take it. He flung Sophia down onto the carpet, letting its soft fibers blunt the impact on her knees and hands. Then he seized her by the hair and pulled her along on all fours to the window.

Sophia had to pad about on her hands and knees to keep from being scalped by the force of his insistence. In the mirror of the window panes, she saw herself and barely recognized the wanton look on her face. There was fright in her eyes, tears on her cheeks, but she was smiling.

With his free hand, Bone forced the window sash up and open. Then he was hauling Sophia forward. For a mad moment, she thought he would pitch her right out the window, but Bone wasn’t quite so bloody-minded. He bent her over the windowsill, her upper body shoved out into the night air while her lower body was still in the hotel room, ass out, legs dangling, totally vulnerable just as her top half was unutterably displayed.

A strap of the chemise fell away, straying down her arm and baring much of her creamy bust, but Sophia could do nothing to restore it. Her hands locked to the windowsill, holding herself up against the call of the abyss. The ground seemed vastly distant when the main thing arresting her descent was Bone’s hands at her waist, holding her down on the windowsill like a butcher about to chop into a prime piece of meat.

“This is my love,” Bone said. “And you’d better want it, because you’re getting it.”

Sophia’s eyes widened, pupils dilating, her present circumstances hitting her like a drug. The moonlight was stark and omnipresent. It hung oppressively over the night air, shafting through the few clouds in blocky shafts, illustrating the roughshod roads and boardwalks with silver gilding.

There was no one in sight, with the chill evening punishing even Sophia’s feverishly heated body, but all it took was one person and she’d be seen at her most intimate, exposed at the basest register that Bone brought her to. She shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold. This was too much. Spanking, fucking, that she could take, but let it be private, let it be Bone’s alone, not common knowledge, not gossip.