The Cherished One by Carolyn Faulkner

with it?!”  In her desperation, she was practically shouting at him.  He had to be kidding!
    This chuckle wasn’t warm chocolate through her veins.  It was ice water.  “That was for not answering me about this,” he reached between her legs, not rudely or roughly, in direct contrast to his tone of voice, but almost gently, like a man who knows he owns something and can take his time with it, who doesn’t have to hurry but can savor the flavor of his possession. 
    His hand was warm where it covered her most intimate parts, and Fawna had a moment of deep regret that she’d allowed Dag to convince her to be shaved.  At least it would have been some small iota of protection against this horrible intrusion.  His fingers weren’t touching hair, they were touching her.  The most intimate and sacred part of her.  It made her want to scream and cry, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.  At least  he didn’t poke or prod her, his fingers didn’t wander.  He simply cupped her, as if he had every right.
    Max, of course, could feel all of those raging emotions as they filled her.  “I do.  What your lover did to mine gives me the right.”  He squeezed her, very gently. Fawna flinched, but at the same time, to her utter mortification, her entire body clenched. 
    “My, my, my, you are a responsive one, aren’t you?  Lucky Dag.”  He released her then, and Fawna collapsed against the couch.  She’d been unaware that she’d been holding herself quite so tense.
    Oh, why couldn’t the floor open up and swallow her, right now, please?
    He chuckled softly from beside her.  “You will have no such release, Cherie.  But perhaps, afterwards, another type of release might be arranged...”
    She screamed the word “NO!” at him, at the same time as her body responded to that idea, and he knew it, damn him.  He knew it, and it made him laugh.
    Yet he didn’t allow it to deter him in the least from his goal.  And he didn’t lecture.  He simply spanked.
    And spanked.
    And spanked.
    Fawna had already been crying from the first round, and she started crying again immediately as soon as his hand connected with her butt again.  She immediately began to try to pop up, out of position, after he’d only given her about another three smacks.  Now, with Dag, getting out of position would have gotten her a whole separate session, that might not even be a spanking, as he also favored certain other types of punishments for her.
    But Max dealt with things differently.  He simply reached down with those long arms of his and put the palm of one big hand on the back of her neck, and, immediately, just like that, she was going nowhere.  Now all she could do in protest was kick her legs - which did her absolutely no good and simply managed to exhaust her - and to flail at him with the free hand that was on the same side as he was.  Fawna quickly discovered that it was like slapping a concrete wall, and somehow she knew that her attempts at causing him harm were merely managing to amuse him, so she stopped.
    She couldn’t believe how God awful this spanking was.  It had to be one of the worst she’d ever endured.
    “Thank you for the compliment,” Max interjected into her misery without missing a beat of the rhythm of his swats.
    At least he didn’t simply spank in one spot, but his hand was large enough that he couldn’t avoid catching the same areas over and over again, even though he did seem to carefully alternate cheeks, as if this was something he was quite familiar with doing.  What he was doing that was almost worse than the pain he was inflicting was that when his hand when it made contact with her rounded cheeks, his fingers curved just slightly, so that they almost always brushed not quite an intimate area of her, but definitely a more intimate area than she wanted him to be touching.
    It was as if he wanted to remind her, frequently, that he had the right to touch her there, too.
    Which, of