Mike and Emma's Tale Book 2
Copyright© 2024 by Melissa Jewels
Chapter 10
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 10 - Marriage is all about discovery, right? For Emma and Mike, that discovery led them to cross a line they never thought they’d approach. They’ve taken the plunge, but now what? Do they go back to their normal routine, pretending it never happened, or keep exploring this strange, exciting path they’ve stumbled onto? How far can love stretch before it breaks?
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic True Story Cuckold Sharing Slut Wife Wife Watching MaleDom Rough Spanking Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging Interracial Black Male White Female White Couple Exhibitionism Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Squirting Tit-Fucking Voyeurism Slow
It’s like my body has a mind of its own.
I know I’m the one kissing him, my lips moving against his, my tongue searching for his, but it feels... unconscious. Automatic. As if some primal instinct has taken over, overriding any sense of logic, of reason, of right and wrong.
And it feels... amazing.
Marcus’s lips are soft, surprisingly so for a man his age, a delicious contrast to the roughness of his hands as they roam over my body, exploring me, claiming me. His tongue is demanding, insistent, but there’s a gentleness to it, too, a slow, deliberate exploration that makes my breath catch in my throat.
He has this way of taking all my attention, drawing me in, making me forget everything but the feel of his touch, the taste of his mouth, the scent of him ... a heady mix of cologne, aftershave, and something uniquely him. The sheer masculine presence of him ... it’s very rousing.
Mike is watching.
The thought intrudes, unbidden, a dark thrill that makes my stomach clench. I can picture him sitting there, on the edge of his seat, his eyes glued to us, his cock hardening ... and it sends a fresh wave of heat through me.
My nails dig into Marcus’s hair as his hands squeeze my breasts, the lace of my bra a barrier that suddenly feels unbearable.
God, I wish he’d just rip this off.
But the dress was expensive.
Marcus finally breaks the kiss, and I gasp, my body arching instinctively towards him. I’m panting, my chest heaving, my cheeks flushed. I’m already wet. Soaked. Just from kissing him. It’s ridiculous, this visceral reaction my body has to this man.
We stare at each other, our eyes locked, the air between us charged with a tension that makes me tremble.
“Seems like you two can’t keep your hands off each other.”
My husband’s voice, a playful tease, breaks the silence, and I can’t help but smile. Only he could make a joke at a time like this.
“Can you blame me, Mike?” Marcus chuckles, his gaze traveling the length of my body, lingering on the curves that are barely concealed by the lace, the silk. “Just look at her.”
My skin tingles under his scrutiny. Part of me wishes he would just ... take me. Now. Right here on the couch. Rip away the flimsy barrier of my lingerie and fuck the living daylights out of me.
“She did take your time getting ready,” Mike teases, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
“Oh, hush, honey.” I roll my eyes at him, then turn to Marcus, offering him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Marcus. I ... I was hoping you liked it.”
“Like it?” He chuckles, his hand sliding down to my ass, giving it a squeeze that makes me gasp. “I love it.”
I hum, my body pressing instinctively closer. We’ve only been here five minutes, and I’m already ready for him again. It’s insane, this need. It’s like he holds some kind of power over me, a magnetism I can’t resist.
“Well ... it was money well spent then.” I run my hand across his chest, savoring the feel of the thin cotton of his t-shirt against my palm, the warmth of his skin beneath.
He’s wearing a bright yellow T-shirt tonight, a bold choice that most men wouldn’t dare to attempt. But Marcus ... Marcus wears it with a confidence that makes it look ... well, good. The yellow pops against his dark skin, and the shirt is snug enough to hug the contours of his muscles, the definition of his pecs, the lean lines of his stomach.
My hand lingers, tracing the outline of his bicep, my fingers itching to feel the bare skin beneath.
“You really have been working hard, Emma.” He chuckles, his gaze meeting mine. “All those hours in the gym ... it’s paying off. Your body ... it’s ... stunning.”
The compliment sends a thrill through me. I know he’s said it before, but there’s something about the way he says it, the appreciation in his voice, that makes me feel ... seen. I want him to keep saying it.
“Thanks.” I beam at him, a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the scotch Mike is nursing. “As I said I feel ... good, too. Honestly, I never thought I’d say this ... but I actually enjoy going to the gym now. I feel more...” I don’t know the word.
“More?”
“I don’t know...”
“Maybe... sexier?”
“Well ... that too.” I laugh.
“Good. That’s good.” He nods, his gaze still intense. “I’m glad I could ... you know ... get you started on the right path. But there’s something that’s been bothering me, Emma.”
“What?”
“I’m pretty sure ... we ... we established what you’re going to call me last time, didn’t we?”
My entire body stiffens. The memory of that day, the word I’d uttered in the heat of the moment, the shame I’d felt afterwards ... it all comes flooding back, a wave of heat that makes me want to hide. It’s different now, being sober, aware of what I’m saying, what I’m doing. Saying it then, in the midst of all that ... that madness ... it felt right, natural.
But now...
“Can we just ... forget about that? For now? Remember that tongue exercise? The one you said you needed the right equipment for?” My hand slides down to his crotch, a deliberate distraction.
“We’ll get to that, dear.” His voice is firm, brooking no argument. “But first ... you need to ... to do your part.”
“Please, Marcus...” I plead, my voice a whisper. “Can we just ... move on?” My body is aching, throbbing with a need that’s both exhilarating and terrifying. I’m so wet.
“No, Emma. Not until you say it.” His fingers trace a slow circle on my clit through the thin lace of my panties. “You know the rules.”
I clench my fists, my entire body trembling with frustration and ... and desire. God, I just want him to take me, to fuck me, to erase the tension that’s coiling inside me like a tight spring.
“Marcus, p-please! Come on ... let’s just...”
My breath comes in short, sharp gasps, my body trembling with a need I can’t control, a need that’s both physical and ... psychological. What am I doing? The question screams in my head, but it’s drowned out by the pounding of my heart, the heat pooling between my legs.
Say it, Emma. Just say it.
But the word— that awful, forbidden word— is stuck in my throat, a tangled mess of shame and desire. I bite my lip, hard.
He looks at Mike, his gaze intense. “What do you think, Mike? Does she ... need ... a little ... encouragement?”
My eyes meet Mike’s, and I see it there— the permission, the encouragement, the dark desire that mirrors my own. He nods slowly.
He wants it too... I knew that. He’s been teasing me about it for weeks, slipping in those little words, those forbidden phrases, testing the boundaries.
It’s still weird, though. Calling him that... Daddy. It feels ... wrong. So, unlike me, so far outside the carefully constructed world I built for myself. But then again, I’m sitting on another man’s lap, half-naked, in front of my husband, who’s watching us with a look of pure lust on his face. So... ‘weird’ kind of went out the window a while ago.
Lost in my own internal battle, I barely register what’s happening until I’m suddenly moving. Strong arms reach for me, lifting me effortlessly from his lap, spinning me around before I can protest.
He pins me over his lap, his arm a steel band around my back, holding me captive. A wave of dizziness washes over me.
“What ... what are you doing?” I struggle against him but his grip is too strong.
“Just ... teaching you a lesson, dear.” he rumbles as I feel his hand on my butt, his fingers splayed across the soft flesh.
“Ma-Marcuss ... w-wait...”
SMACK!
The sound of his hand connecting with my ass is sharp, shocking, a forceful blow that sends a jolt of pain through my body, followed immediately by a hot rush of ... something else.
I yelp, the sound ripped from my throat before I can stop it, a mix of surprise and a strange, forbidden thrill.
I see his hand rise again, and I brace myself, my breath catching, anticipating the sting, the shame, the...
SMACK!
It’s harder this time. The heat spreads across my ass cheek. Humiliation floods me, hot and consuming, but beneath it...
Something else is stirring.
I can’t deny the thrill that shoots through me, the way it makes my blood rush, my pussy clench.
I can feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against my chest, a reminder of the promise, the pleasure that awaits.
SMACK!
”Ohhh...”
I moan, a soft, involuntary sound that surprises even me that makes my cheeks burn even hotter.
He hits me again, and I arch my back, my ass pushing instinctively towards his hand, the sensation both painful and exquisitely pleasurable.
SMACK!
”Aaahhnnn...”
It’s wrong, it’s degrading ... and it’s turning me on in a way I never imagined.
I’m lost now, the shame and the pleasure merging, the boundaries blurring.
“Look at that,” Marcus chuckles, his voice laced with amusement. “She likes it rough ... she’s a naughty girl.” He lifts his hand again, and I brace myself, my body trembling with a mix of apprehension and a dark, undeniable excitement.
Do I like this?
The question spirals in my mind, a dangerous current pulling me under.
“You’ve got to admit ... she’s way kinkier than I thought. Who knew she had this in her?”
I assume he’s talking to me, but then Mike’s voice, a mix of amusement and something darker, drifts from the couch.
“Yeah, she is. Starting to realize that myself.”
My cheeks burn, a fresh wave of shame washing over me. I can’t see my husband from this angle, but I can feel his gaze on me, hot and intense. What is he thinking right now? What does he think of me like this? Does he ... does he like seeing me like this?
SMACK!
I moan, the sound escaping before I can stop it. It’s wrong. I’m a grown woman, a teacher, for God’s sake! And yet ... here I am, getting spanked by my neighbor while my husband watches. And the worst part?
I kind of ... like it.
The next spank is harder, the sting more intense. I moan, a soft, involuntary sound that escapes before I can stop it. I’m panting now, my cheeks burning, my body a tangled mess of shame and a desire that’s becoming impossible to ignore.
“How long ... are you ... gonna do this?” I manage.
“Until you call me what you’re supposed to call me,” he says, his voice firm.
The wetness between my legs is intense now, a throbbing ache that’s more than just physical. I need him. Inside me. I know I should just... say it. But it’s too much. Too ... degrading. My upbringing, my morals, everything I thought I believed in ... it all screams against it.
His hand lands on my ass again, and I brace myself, waiting for the sting, the pleasure, the release. But it doesn’t come.
Instead, I feel his hand slip inside my panties, his fingers finding my clit, already swollen and throbbing.
“Oh... ”
“Damn, Em,” he murmurs, his fingers spreading my pussy lips, giving me a few teasing flicks. “You’re soaked. Just from a few spanks ... You’re one hungry little slut, aren’t you?”
I can’t answer, not with his fingers doing that to me. My mind is blank, consumed by the feel of him, the scent of him, the knowledge that I’m his ... at least for tonight.
His other hand reaches around, cupping my breasts through the lace of my bra. He teases my nipples, rubbing them, rolling them, pinching them. A fresh wave of desire rips through me.
“Ohhh...” I squirm against him, my body betraying me with every involuntary movement, every gasp, every moan. His thick fingers slide inside me, two of them, stretching me, filling me.
“Oh my... God...”
My hips buck instinctively, trying to keep him inside.
He’s a master, this man. A puppeteer, orchestrating a symphony of sensation, playing my body like an instrument. He’s working me now, both his hands, one teasing my pussy while the other torments my breasts.
And the combination ... the dual assault ... it’s too much.
I’m losing it.
“Ohhhhh!” The moan rips from my throat as he pinches my nipple, harder than Mike ever would, a sharp pang of pain that transforms into a delicious thrill. “God!...”
“You like it rough, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“I ... No! I don’t...” But the words sound weak, unconvincing, even to my own ears.
“Liar” he growls. “And liars... get punished.”
He twists my nipple again, harder this time, and I squeal, arching my back, pressing my ass into his hand, desperate for the pain, the pleasure, the release. My mind is a whirlwind, sensations rippling through my body, a confusing mix of shame and a need so intense it’s almost painful.
“Ahhh... ohhh ... God... yessss... ”
His fingers are back inside me, teasing, tormenting. The sounds we’re making ... the wet sloshing, my moans, his grunts ... they’re obscene. And I can’t help but think ... God, the man knows how to use his hands.
“Oh, fuck, yes ... right there...”
“Close, dear?”
“Ahhhh ... yessss... right there!” I can feel it building, the pressure, the heat, the inevitable explosion. He’s got me right on the edge...
And then he stops.
“Wha...?” I turn my head, confused, frustrated, needy.
SMACK!
He spanks me again, hard. The sound is sharp, shocking.
“Ahh! What ... why...”
His hand is back on my tit now, his fingers massaging, teasing, while the other hand rests on my ass, a silent threat.
“You want to come, don’t you?”
“Yes ... please...” The words are a begged plea. I can’t hold back any longer, I need release, I need him.
“Ask properly, Emma.”
“Please, Marcus ... just ... let me come...”
“I know you do, sweetheart.” His voice is low, a rumble that makes me shiver. “I know exactly what you want. But you have to ask for it.”
My insides twist, a mix of frustration and a dark, delicious excitement. He’s in control. The thought is both shameful and thrilling.
And I know ... I know Mike is watching. Watching me come undone, watching me beg.
Marcus slips his fingers back inside me, and the feeling is ... exquisite. I moan, my hips bucking, meeting his touch.
He’s teasing me again.
“Ahhhh ... Marcus ... fuck... ”
He withdraws his fingers, and I sag against him, a whimper of frustration escaping my lips.
“Not yet, sweetheart.” He’s laughing, I can hear it in his voice, and a part of me, a small, competitive part, wants to prove him wrong. He circles my clit with his thumb, a slow, agonizing tease. “Almost there, though...” Then he slides his fingers back inside. “That’s it ... that’s a good girl. Fuck those fingers.”
I do.
I move my hips, riding his hand, my moans growing louder, needier. But he keeps me right there, on the edge, refusing to let me fall.
“God... fuck you, Marcus...” The words are a curse, but they come out as a plea. Because I need him. I need him badly.
“You know what you have to do, sweetheart,” Marcus chuckles. “Say the word, and it’s all yours.”
I ignore him. Or at least, I try to. But my body has other ideas. My hips keep moving, grinding against his hand, those two fingers still buried deep inside me, teasing, tormenting.
“God ... that’s ... that’s it ... ahhh...”
He’s got me right on the fucking edge. The pressure builds, a white-hot wave ready to consume me. I can feel it—the tremors racing through my body, my muscles clenching, the uncontrollable need to fucking explode.
But then he pulls away. Again.
“No. Not yet.”
“Nooo!!!” The word rips from my throat, a mix of frustration and a need so intense it makes me want to cry and scream. “Fuck ... Marcus... stop... please ... just let me... GOD ... let me come!”
It’s the most frustrating ten minutes of my life. Maybe even my entire life. He edges me repeatedly, bringing me to the brink, then snatching it away. Over and over, until time loses all meaning, until my body feels like it’s on fire, until I’m a writhing mess of unsatisfied need.
I’m bent over his lap, my face buried in the cushions, while he plays me like an instrument, his fingers a virtuoso on the strings of my desire. My husband sits a few feet away, watching it all unfold, his gaze a tangible weight on my skin.
And the knowledge that he’s seeing me like this— desperate, needy, completely at the mercy of another man’s touch— it fuels the fire, makes the frustration almost unbearable.
“You’re so beautiful, Emma,” Marcus murmurs, his voice a husky purr. “So, fucking hot ... I love seeing you like this ... begging for it.”
“God, Marcus ... stop... please!” I cry out. “Just ... just let me come...”
“You’ll come, sweetheart.” He strokes my clit, a slow, agonizing circle. “But you’ll come when I say so. And it’ll be so much better ... so much sweeter ... when you’ve earned it.”
“Please, stop teasing me...”
“I could do this all day, Emma.”
“I’m gonna freaking die!” The words burst from my lips, a mix of exasperation and a strange, undeniable thrill. “I swear to God, Marcus, if you don’t...”
He plunges two fingers back inside me, and I’m lost again, my hips bucking wildly, my moans a jumble of need. It’s pathetic, how desperate I feel, how much power he holds over me. But the pleasure ... the promise of pleasure...
It’s like a drug.
He’s still not letting me finish. Keeps teasing me, bastard.
I’m so close. So close...
And then ... he’s gone.
”Awwww ... fuck! Pleaseee...”
He ignores my pleas, his hand moving away from my pussy, his touch now a gentle caress as he traces a line down my ass crack with his thumb, a gentle caress that sends a shiver down my spine, a mockery of comfort.
Fuck it.
And suddenly... I don’t fucking care. I can’t take it anymore.
My brain is fried, short-circuited by all the denied orgasms. It’s like ... like being starved. A deep, aching hunger that nothing can satisfy. I’ll do anything, say anything, to make this stop, to feel the release, to shatter into a million pieces.
And besides ... isn’t the whole point of this to explore, to push boundaries, to surrender to my desires?
I bury my face in the cushions, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
“Please ... d-dadddeeeeyy...” My voice is barely audible. “Let me ... please ... just let me come...”
I can almost feel him grinning.
What must Mike be thinking right now? The thought flickers through my mind, a mix of shame, curiosity and a dark, undeniable excitement.
“Good girl.”
Marcus’s voice, a husky whisper against my ear, sends shivers down my spine. Then, it hits me. Pure, unadulterated bliss.
He twists my nipple, hard, sending a jolt of pain that transforms into a wave of pleasure so intense it makes me see stars. At the same time, his other hand is working its magic on my clit, his fingers rubbing, circling, driving me wild.
“Ohhh ... God ... yesss... right there!”
And then, just as I’m teetering on the edge, about to shatter, he does something unexpected.
His thumb presses... there ... inside my asshole, a gentle but firm pressure that makes my entire body tense.
“Ahhhnnnn!”
The sensation is overwhelming, both holes stimulated at once. I can feel his fingers inside me, stretching me, filling me. I can feel his thumb at my entrance, a forbidden touch that sends a jolt of something dark and dirty through me.
I’ve never ... I’ve never been touched like this before. Not there. Not with Mike.
“Oh... fuck... ”
His other hand continues assaulting my breast, squeezing, teasing, and I’m lost. Completely lost in the sensation, in the sheer overwhelming pleasure of it all.
His fingers are so good. The way they move, the way they rub, the way he seems to know exactly where to touch me ... how to drive me wild ... And the feeling of his thumb, pressing, teasing, right there on my asshole ... it adds a new dimension to the pleasure, a dark, forbidden edge that makes me want to both run and surrender.
“Unghhh... ohhhhh... Godddd...!”
And then, I explode.
My body stiffens, then convulses, wave after wave of pleasure ripping through me. My toes curl, my back arches, my fingers clench. It’s an earthquake, a tidal wave, a volcanic eruption of pure, unadulterated bliss. Stars explode behind my eyelids. Heat floods my core, spreading outward in rippling waves.
“YES! YES! GOD! FUCK! ... Ahhhhhhhh...”
He’s made me come before. But this ... this is... different. It’s like he’s tapped into something primal, something raw and untamed. Maybe it’s the edging, the denial, the buildup of tension ... I don’t know. But I’m gushing, my pussy contracting around his fingers, my juices flowing freely, and it feels like I could come forever.
I try to close my legs around his hand, to contain the flood, but he keeps going, his fingers relentless, his touch a constant reminder of his power. I try to twist away, but he holds me there, his grip firm but not painful.
And I think ... I think I’m going to pass out.
The pleasure is that intense.
He keeps working me, his fingers moving inside me, his thumb still pressing against my butthole, and I come again, and again, my body a vessel of pure sensation. I’m lost in it, drowning in the flood of my own release, the world outside ceasing to exist.
Finally, when it’s over, when the last tremors have subsided, I sag against him, my body weak, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Silence descends upon the room.
I don’t have the energy to speak. I don’t dare to look at Mike.
I’m pretty sure he’s lost his goddamn mind.
Because I know.
My husband has just witnessed something he can never unsee. He must think I’m...
And then I feel it again. His cock, hard and insistent, throbbing against my chest, a reminder that it’s not over. Not yet.
I straighten, my gaze meeting his. He’s smiling, a look of pure satisfaction on his face.
“Damn, Emma.” He holds up his fingers, slick with my juices. “I can tell you needed that. You always... let go ... when we play, but this...” He shakes his head, chuckling. “This was something else.”
He brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving mine. “Mike’s not wrong. You taste pretty damn good.” Then he’s pushing those same fingers against my lips, a silent command I can’t refuse.
I open my mouth, my lips parting instinctively, and take him in. The taste of my own juices, mingled with his scent, is intoxicating, and I suck on his fingers, relishing the sensation, the sheer degradation of it.
“Good girl.”
My body tingles at his praise, a warmth spreading through me. God, I love hearing him say that.
“Th-thank you ... Daddy.”
The word slips out before I can stop it. And as soon as it’s spoken, I wish I could take it back. It feels... wrong. I should be saying it to Mike ... my husband. If this title ... belongs to anyone, it is my husband. But he just does not bring this ... out of me. Not this surrender, not this unleashed need.
“You’ve earned yourself a little reward, don’t you think, sweetheart?”
I tilt my head, playing along, though my body is already screaming for what it wants. “Yeah?”
“What do you want, Emma?”
I don’t hesitate.
“I need ... I need your cock, Daddy.”
The words are out now, spoken, and I can’t seem to stop myself. Each time I say it, a thrill runs through me, a mix of shame and a deep, pulsating excitement that makes my skin tingle.
“You want ... what was that, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Daddy. Please.” My hips buck against his, a silent plea. “Please give me ... your big, black cock...”
God, I’m a mess. What has happened to me? I’m begging my neighbor for his cock ... in my living room. In front of my husband. I’m a shameless slut.
It must have been the orgasm, I think, the way it rewired my brain, scrambled my senses.
And yet...
It feels ... so right.
What is Mike thinking?
Is this ... too much?
Before I can turn to gauge his reaction, Marcus speaks.
“So eager for it, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He runs a hand down my back, his touch lingering on the curve of my spine, and then he leans closer, his lips brushing my ear. “Then why don’t you get down there and ... Let’s see if that pretty mouth of yours still remembers how to... work its magic.”
I nod, my body already moving towards him, my mouth watering at the thought of his taste, the feel of him. And then I stop.
“What happened?”
I hesitate, my cheeks burning. “Before ... before we ... can you ... can you do something for me?”
“What is it, Emma?”
“C-Can you ... can you... spank me again?”
He laughs, a deep, booming sound that fills the room, and I want to crawl under the couch and die.
I can’t believe I just said that. Out loud. God, this is so embarrassing.
“You liked it that much, huh? Those little spankings?”
I nod, unable to speak, my body humming with a mix of embarrassment and a need that’s becoming impossible to ignore. He grabs my chin, tilting my face up to his.
“Don’t be shy, sweetheart.” His voice is firm, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “Tell me. Did you ... did you like it? Did it make you... wet?”
I sigh, my gaze falling to the floor. “I did, Daddy.” The word feels less awkward now, less shameful. “I... loved it.”
“Such a naughty girl.”
“Yes...” I breathe, my body pressing against him. “I’m ... I’m such a naughty slut ... Please, Daddy ... spank my naughty ass... harder...”
I hear a sharp intake of breath from the couch, and I don’t need to see Mike to know what’s happening. He’s hard, I can tell. And the thought ... A sudden rush of lust hits me like a fucking freight train.
It fuels my need, makes me bolder.
It’s for him, too, this performance, this surrender. I know he loves it. The more unhinged I am, the more desperate ... the hotter he gets.
“Please, Daddy...” I lean in, my lips brushing his ear, my voice a whine. “Spank my ass ... my married ... white... ass.”
He nods towards his lap. “Get on, then.”
I obey, eagerly, my body moving with a newfound confidence. I settle over his lap, my ass pushed high in the air.
I close my eyes, surrendering to the inevitable, the sensation I’m craving, the punishment and the pleasure that only he can give me.
He doesn’t disappoint.
SMACK!
”Mmm... ahh... ”
His hands are on my ass now, spreading my cheeks, his fingers kneading, squeezing, exploring the soft flesh. Even the lightest touch sends shivers down my spine, sparks of pleasure that converge between my legs, a throbbing, aching need. I never knew I was into this kind of thing ... this pain, this... roughness.
Are you watching, Mike? Are you seeing this?
I can’t help but think of him, sitting there, his gaze fixed on us, his body hardening, his mind conjuring images. The thought of him getting off on this, on me being a ... a fucktoy for our neighbor ... it sends a fresh wave of heat through me, a dark, twisted excitement that makes me want to both scream and surrender.
SMACK!
“Ahh! Oh... ”
My pussy tingles. God, I’m so bad.
“Damn, you’re one juicy little thing,” he murmurs. “Dripping for me. Just begging to be punished.”
He continues to spank me, his hand a rhythmic force against my ass. I lose track of how many times he hits me. Five? Ten? Twenty?
“Get down on your knees now, Emma,” he says finally, his voice a command. “Show me how much you liked that. Show me how much you need it.”
I obey.
My legs tremble as I kneel before him, my gaze meeting Mike’s across the room. I look for a sign, for some flicker of anger or jealousy in his eyes, for something that might tell me I’ve gone too far. But there’s nothing.
He just looks ... excited.
And the sight of it, the knowledge that he’s enjoying this, that he’s getting off on my ... my...
Humiliation?
Degradation?