“Have you been snooping?”

I shook my head, squeezed my legs together, and wriggled to get free, which was impossible, considering his size and strength.

“No?”

His fingers found the waistband of my panties and tickled the flesh there. “What are you doing? Let me up!”

I knew he heard me, he just was enjoying this. When he began to drag my panties down, I wildly kicked my legs only to have them trapped between Salvatore’s hard thighs. The swoosh of his belt made me stop struggling, and he laughed at what I was sure was my deer in the headlights expression.

“Don’t worry.” He wrapped the belt around my wrists and secured them behind my back. “I’m just planning on using my hand this first time.”

“What?”

But he began, smacking one cheek then the next, each slap screaming at my brain that this was really happening. That I was naked from the waist down being spanked!

“Stop! It fucking hurts!”

A few moments later, he did, rubbing circles over my punished cheeks.

“Let me up,” I said, wiping my wet face on his jeans.

“Were you snooping?” he asked again. This time, there was no teasing in his tone.

“Yes!” He knew it anyway; why he had to humiliate me like this to get me to admit it was beyond me.

“Good girl,” he said, his touch sliding between my thighs. “Bad girls get punished, but good girls get rewarded.”

Then, without any warning, his fingers found my sex, and I sucked in a breath.

I tensed, squeezing everything tight, but Salvatore tickled and stroked until I relaxed my legs and let them fall open, my back arching of its own accord as he smeared my own arousal over and around my clit, rubbing soft, then hard, pinching, making me cry out.

“What did you find in my bedroom?” he asked, still rubbing.

When a moan escaped me, I hung my head, wanting to disappear. How could I be enjoying this? Enjoying this humiliation?

“No…”

“Remember, good girls are rewarded, bad girls punished. Lying would make you a bad girl.”

“I hate you,” I said, not believing it myself.

“No, you don’t. You just feel powerless and are acting out in response.”

“I’m not a child.”

“I know that. Tell me what you found.”

He started on my clit again, rubbing harder, faster. “God.”

He chuckled. “God would be a first.”

“I’m…”

“Focus, Lucia,” he said, the fingers of his free hand taking one of my breasts.

“Restraints,” I said, my eyes about to roll to the back of my head when he kneaded my nipple.

“And how did it make you feel to find them?”

He eased off my clit, and I groaned, arching back again, wanting to—needing to—come.

“I...I don’t know.”

He struck my pussy, and I gasped.

“What did you feel?”

He rubbed again, and I melted into him. “Curious.”