He struck her with both hands. At first she was aware only of sudden, hard weights descending on her exposed flesh. Then pain charged through where his hands had landed. Shocked, she reared up.

"No. Don't." He clamped a hand over the back of her head, forcing her down so she was again draped over him.

He gave her a moment to try to free herself. She was still trying to send enough strength to her neck to surpass his when he spanked her again. The second blow was delivered to her left cheek. The sensation had yet to fade when a third landed.

She yelped followed by pressing her lips together. He could hurt her, but she wouldn't let him know if he did, wouldn't give anything away.

Her resolve weakened as the punishment continued. Several times he let go of the back of her head. When he did, she couldn't stop trying to get away which prompted him to take charge there again. He kept her under his control as he randomly pummeled her ass. She couldn't make sense of what was happening, couldn't find a rhythm. Some blows were strong enough to test her ability to keep from crying out while others were light taps. She wanted the taps, wanted to experience the strange new sensations firing inside her.

Helpless to do anything except feel, she sagged over him. He wouldn't soon tire, but he was holding back. If he let go with his full strength, he'd injure her. She had to trust this man she shouldn't to not harm her but damn did being spanked hurt!

Her ass burned. At the same time it was becoming numb which she didn't understand. The man-she had to learn his name!-obviously took pleasure in striking her from just below her waist all the way to where buttocks and legs met. He even planted several blows to the backs of her thighs. Not knowing whether a blow would be light or hard or how much time would pass between them had her totally off balance. She craved a cadence. This punishment would be easier to take if she could better define it. She should have asked him to stipulate how many times he intended to spank her over what time period, how much force he'd put behind the strikes, something, anything.

He slowed, sped up, concentrated on one spot then another. Surely her ass had turned red. Maybe his plan was to keep going until he'd created a uniformity pleasing to him. Was that it? He saw her ass as a canvas he was painting on. The thought threatened to make her laugh so she cast it aside.

Pain, centered on where he worked but somehow reaching from the top of her head to her feet. Her toes were so tightly curled inside her shoes they were cramping, but she couldn't concentrate enough to try to relax them.

Relax he'd warned. Impossible.

But it wasn't all pain. The man who'd assumed ownership of everything about her was commanding and self-assured. If he had a soft side she'd seen no hint of it. He made her feel alive in ways she'd never suspected were possible. He'd become her world. Maybe he felt the same way. There was only the two of them in a space designed to hold thousands of people. The only action was taking place between his palms and her ass.

And in her pussy.

Not turned on. Surely not something so insane, but the punishment was primal and primitive. So was she. No longer a valued member of a popular sport, she'd been reduced to an animal with an animal's instinct for focusing on what mattered.

If this was what being owned meant, today she wanted it.

Wanted him.

After a length of time she couldn't begin to judge, he stopped. It took several seconds for her to grasp he was no longer spanking her. Her buttocks still throbbed, but fresh blows were no longer being delivered. She could, hopefully, begin the journey toward putting this assault behind her.

As he'd done at the beginning, he placed his hands on her cheeks. The first time the sensation had been almost comforting, but she was now so sore there she shuddered.

"What?" he asked.

"Like you don't know."

Instead of punishing her for her rebuttal, he stroked her ass. "Yes, I do. You hurt like hell there. All for a good cause. I won't make the mistake of saying I trust this will be the last time I'll have to discipline you because you learned not to resist me in any way. You're strong willed and independent, traits I admire-just not if they're in opposition to my demands. If I'm going to get the ultimate production out of you, which I have every intention of doing, you need to realize my dictates and direction are the only things that matters."

There he was, throwing words over and around her again. She didn't want to be lectured to. She wanted to concentrate on the heat between her legs and the male responsible for it. A lot of blood had flowed to her brain. She cautiously lifted her head. He didn't stop her.

Neither did he remove his hands.