Chapter 5: The Brat and the Belt
The lock clicked into place behind them, a small, final sound that seemed to seal the night inside the loft. Ty stood in the entryway, his eyes moving slowly across the space—the floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the city's glitter like a second, inverted skyline, the framed squadron photos on the wall, the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the counter that caught the amber light from a single lamp.
"Nice place," he said, his voice low and rough.
Kara didn't answer. She toed off her trainers, the leather whispering against the hardwood, and padded toward him on white-socked feet. The dress rustled against her thighs with each step, and she could feel his gaze drop to her legs, tracking the movement with an intensity that made her skin prickle.
She reached up, fisting the front of his polo, and pulled him down. His mouth met hers, hot and demanding, and she kissed him like she'd been thinking about it for hours—which she had, through every mile of highway between the dive bar and her door, the taste of cheap whiskey still ghosting her tongue.
His hands moved immediately, palms sliding down her back and then gripping her ass through the thin fabric of the dress. He squeezed, hard, and she made a sound against his mouth that she would have been embarrassed by if she hadn't been so far past caring.
Then his hands slid up, finding the zipper at the small of her back. He fumbled with it, the tab small and stubborn beneath his thick fingers.
Kara broke the kiss, breathless. "Turn me around."
She rotated in his arms, presenting her back, and his lips found her neck immediately—hot, open-mouthed kisses pressed to the curve where her neck met her shoulder. He dragged his teeth along the muscle there, then down, following the path of the zipper as it parted under his hands.
The dress loosened. He kissed down her spine, vertebra by vertebra, kneeling behind her as the fabric slid from her shoulders and pooled around her ankles in a whisper of white cotton. His lips pressed to the small of her back, and she shivered, standing in just her plain white bra and matching thong, her feet still in those absurd ankle socks.
He stood, turning her back around to face him. His eyes traveled over her—the small, firm swell of her breasts cupped in white cotton, the athletic taper of her waist, the triangle of fabric between her thighs. His jaw tightened.
"Fuck," he breathed.
Kara held his gaze. Then she sank to her knees.
The hardwood was hard against her kneecaps, but she barely registered it. She looked up at him through her lashes and reached for his belt buckle, her fingers working the leather free of the clasp with practiced efficiency. She pulled the belt from the loops in one smooth motion, the leather sliding through the fabric with a soft hiss.
She held it up, coiled loosely in her hand, and her voice came out quieter than she intended. "Hold onto this."
Ty's eyebrows lifted. His eyes dropped to the belt, then back to her face, and something dark and hungry moved behind his expression. He took it from her, wrapping it once around his right hand.
"For later," she added, and her cheeks flushed even as she said it.
His free hand came down to cup her jaw. "You're gonna be the death of me," he said, and his thumb traced her lower lip. "You know that?"
She didn't answer. She just leaned forward, unbuttoning his chinos, pulling the zipper down. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, and she wrapped her fingers around the base, feeling the heat and pulse of him.
She took him into her mouth slowly, savoring the weight of him on her tongue, the salt-bitter taste of his skin. His hand tightened on her jaw, and above her, he let out a ragged breath that dissolved into a groan.
"Oh, fuck," he whispered. "That's it. There she is."
Kara worked him with her mouth and hand, slow and deliberate. She took him deep until he hit the back of her throat, then pulled back, hollowing her cheeks, creating pressure that made his hips jerk. She knew exactly what she was doing—she'd done it before, that first night in the hotel room, and she remembered how he'd responded, how his fingers had twisted in the sheets, how he'd cursed and begged.
She wanted to hear that again.
She brought him to the edge, felt his cock thicken and twitch in warning, and then she pulled off entirely, her lips leaving him with a wet sound.
"God damn it," Ty hissed.
She looked up at him, kneeling there in her socks and underwear, his spit-slick cock bobbing in front of her face, and she smiled.
He looked down at her. He was breathing hard, chest rising and falling beneath the polo, eyes blown wide.
"You think that's funny?" he asked.
Kara didn't answer. She just kept smiling, and that was a mistake.
Ty's hand moved fast. Before she could react, he had the belt uncoiled, slipped it behind her neck, and used it to pull her forward—not enough to hurt, but enough to make her gasp and lurch onto all fours.
"Show me to the bedroom," he said, his voice low and controlled. "Now."
Kara's heart hammered. She rose to her feet, legs shaky, and turned toward the hallway. Ty didn't release the belt—he kept it wrapped around his hand, the other end dangling, and as she walked toward her bedroom, she could feel his eyes on her ass, tracking the sway of her hips in the thin white fabric.
She pushed open her bedroom door. The room was a mess—her usual chaos, flight suits draped over a chair, a half-empty glass of water on the nightstand, her bed unmade from the morning. The duvet was rumpled, and the corner of a thriller novel peeked out from under a pillow.
Ty didn't care about any of that. He guided her forward with a hand on her lower back, then stopped her at the foot of the bed.
"Bend over."
Kara's breath caught. She did as he said, bending at the waist until her hands touched the mattress, the duvet cool and soft under her palms. The position left her exposed—ass up, the thin strip of her thong cutting between her cheeks, her pussy already wet enough that she could feel it slicking the inside of her thighs.
Behind her, Ty whistled low.
"You've been like this all night, haven't you?" he asked. "Walking around the bar in this little dress, letting me feel you up in the car. You were already wet before we even got here."
She didn't deny it. She couldn't.
He ran a hand over her ass, palm flat, fingers spread. Then he pulled his hand back and spanked her—hard, the sound cracking through the quiet room. Kara yelped, jerking forward, her socked feet skidding a little on the hardwood.
"One," Ty said calmly.
He spanked her again, on the other cheek, just as hard. She cried out, her fingers twisting in the duvet.
"Two."
"Ty—" she started.
He brought the belt down in a quick, sharp snap across the backs of her thighs. Not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to sting, enough to make her whole body jolt.
"You edged me earlier," he said. "Down on your knees, sucking my dick like that, stopping right when I was about to come. That was a brat move, Kara."
She whimpered. The sting from the belt faded into warmth, a buzzing sensation that pooled low in her belly.
"Are you gonna apologize?"
"Yes," she said quickly. "Yes, I'm sorry, I—"
He spanked her again, with his hand this time, right across both cheeks.
"Sorry what?"
"Sorry for being a brat," she gasped. "Sorry for edging you. I just—I wanted—"
"You wanted what?"
She couldn't say it. Her cheeks burned, and not just from the spanking.
Ty leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back, his mouth at her ear. "Tell me what you wanted."
"I wanted you to take control," she whispered. "I wanted this."
His hand slid between her legs, fingers pressing against the wet fabric of her thong. He found her clit through the cotton, rubbing in slow circles, and Kara moaned, her hips pushing back against his hand.
"You wanted to be my good girl," he corrected.
"Yes." Her voice cracked. "Yes, I wanted to be—"
He pulled the thong down. It slid over her hips, down her thighs, and she shifted her feet to let it fall to her ankles, where it tangled around her socked feet in a damp tangle of fabric.
His fingers returned to her cunt, sliding through her folds with an obscene wet sound. He circled her entrance, dipping just barely inside, then withdrawing, then dipping again.
"Please," she breathed.
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me. Please, Ty, I need—"
He shoved two fingers into her without warning. Kara cried out, her inner walls clamping around him, her whole body bucking.
"So tight," Ty muttered. "Still so fucking tight."
He worked his fingers in and out, curling them inside her, finding that spot that made her see stars. With his other hand, he spanked her again—her ass, her upper thighs, the underside of her cheeks. The belt came down twice more, leaving hot streaks across her skin, and Kara was sobbing now, not from pain but from the overload, the sensation of being filled and struck and dominated all at once.
"I'm gonna come," she gasped. "Ty, please, I'm gonna—"
He pulled his fingers out.
Kara wailed, her hips grinding against nothing, her orgasm receding like a wave pulling back from the shore.
"No," she begged. "No, please, I was so close—"
Ty grabbed her by the hair and pulled her upright. She stumbled, off-balance, socked feet sliding on the floor, and he turned her to face him. His cock was still out, still hard, glistening with her saliva and his own pre-cum.
"Open your mouth."
She did.
He pushed her down onto the bed, flat on her back. Her head hung over the edge, her neck arched, her hair spilling toward the floor. The position made her throat vulnerable, made her feel exposed and utterly at his mercy.
Ty stepped forward. He was looking down at her, at her upside-down face, her lips parted, her eyes wide and glassy. He ran his thumb along her cheekbone, almost tender, and then he pushed his cock into her mouth.
The angle was different—he slid in deep, hitting her throat immediately, and Kara gagged, her eyes watering. But she didn't pull away. She couldn't. Her arms were stretched above her head, hands gripping the edge of the mattress, and she was pinned there by his gaze and his cock and the weight of everything she wanted.
"That's it," he said. "Take it. Take all of it."
He fucked her mouth with slow, deep strokes, and Kara relaxed her throat as much as she could, letting him use her. Saliva dripped from her lips, running down her cheeks, into her hair. Her eyes streamed. She was a wreck, a complete fucking mess, and she had never been more turned on in her life.
Her cunt clenched around nothing, dripping onto the duvet, and she moaned around his cock—a vibration that made Ty groan and fuck her faster.
"Yeah," he grunted. "Yeah, that's it. Fucking take it."
She looked up at him, and from this angle, she could see the way his abs flexed with each thrust, the way his jaw was clenched tight, the tendons standing out in his neck. He was beautiful, he was brutal, he was everything.
He pulled out just before he came. His cock slipped from her mouth with a wet pop, and Kara gasped, dragging in air, her chest heaving.
Ty stroked himself once, twice, three times—and came across her chest, hot stripes of white painting her bra, her collarbone, her chin. Kara cried out, a desperate, wrecked sound, and she arched her back, pushing her breasts up toward him like an offering.
When he was done, he stood there, breathing hard, looking down at her ruined form—her tangled hair, her tear-streaked face, her cum-slicked skin, her trembling socked feet.
"You're a fucking vision," he said.
Kara laughed weakly. "I'm a mess."
"Yeah," Ty agreed. "My mess."
He leaned down and kissed her—soft this time, surprisingly gentle, his lips brushing across hers, tasting himself on her tongue. And in that kiss, Kara felt something shift. Something that had nothing to do with the belt or the spanking or the way he'd just used her mouth.
It felt, for a moment, like more.
Ty pulled back and looked at her. "Where's your towel?"
"Hooked on the back of the door."
He nodded. He found the towel, came back, and cleaned her up with careful hands—wiping his cum from her chest and chin, dabbing at the tears on her cheeks, pressing a kiss to her forehead when he was done.
"Don't think this means I'm done with you," he said.
He pulled back, and Kara's eyes fluttered open, still glassy, still unfocused.
Then his words landed, and her gaze snapped to his face. The grin spreading across Ty's mouth was slow and wolfish, all teeth, and something cold and thrilling slid down her spine.
"What?" she managed.
He didn't answer with words. He grabbed her hip and flipped her onto her stomach in one smooth motion, the strength in his arms making her feel weightless. She landed with a gasp, face pressed into the duvet, the smell of her own arousal rising up from the fabric.
Before she could push herself up, his knee pressed into the mattress beside her, and his weight settled over her thighs, pinning her down. His hands found her wrists and yanked them behind her back. The leather of his belt was still warm from his skin, and he looped it around her wrists in quick, efficient movements, cinching it tight.
"Too tight?" he asked.
Kara tested the binding. The leather bit into her skin, but not painfully. Not yet. "No," she breathed.
"Good."
His hands moved to her back, fingers finding the clasp of her bra. He fumbled for half a second, then gave up and just ripped it. The fabric tore with a sharp sound, the clasp snapping, the straps falling slack against her shoulders. Kara gasped into the duvet, her breasts pressing into the mattress.
He peeled the ruined bra away from her body, and she felt the cool air hit her skin, her nipples hardening instantly. His fingers traced the red marks the straps had left, the places where the torn fabric had scraped her.
"Look at that," he said. "You're marked up."
Kara's cheeks burned. But her cunt clenched, slick and needy, and she knew he could see it, could see the way her thighs were pressed together, trying to get friction.
"You like that?" he asked. "Being marked?"
She didn't answer. She couldn't.
His hand tangled in her hair, and he pulled her head back, arching her neck, forcing her face up from the mattress. The position strained her shoulders, made her back bow, pushed her ass higher into the air.
"So," Ty said, his mouth close to her ear, "is this how Daddy likes his good girls?"
The word hit her like a slap. Daddy. She'd said it before, in the hotel room, a slip of the tongue in the heat of the moment. He'd remembered.
"You tell me," she shot back, her voice hoarse but defiant. "You're the one who—"
He yanked her hair harder, cutting off her words.
"Still bratting," he said. "Even now. Even with your wrists tied and your ass in the air."
He released her hair, and her face dropped back to the mattress. Then his hands were on her hips, pulling her off the bed, steering her across the room. Her socked feet slipped on the hardwood, and she stumbled, but he caught her, held her upright.
He bent her over her desk.
The surface was cold against her stomach, clutter digging into her skin—a pen, the edge of her laptop, a stack of papers. She heard something clatter to the floor, but she didn't care. Her cheek pressed against the wood, her bound hands resting on the small of her back, and she was completely exposed.
Ty kicked her legs open with his foot. The stance made her feel obscene, her cunt open to the air, dripping wet, her ass on display. The white ankle socks she still wore were absurdly innocent against everything else.
He stepped back, and she heard him moving, but she couldn't see him. Just the sound of his footsteps, the shift of fabric.
Then his fingers were between her legs, sliding through her folds, spreading her wetness around. She moaned, pressing back against his hand, desperate for more.
"Look at this," he said, his voice low. "Soaked. You're absolutely soaked. Is this all for me?"
"Yes," she gasped. "All of it. Please, Ty—"
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me. I need it. I need you inside me."
He circled her entrance with one finger, applying pressure but not pushing in. Just teasing, just enough to make her crazy.
"You need it?" he repeated. "That's funny, because I remember you on your knees earlier, sucking my cock, stopping right when I was about to come. You didn't seem to care what I needed then."
Kara whimpered. "I'm sorry. I said I was sorry."
"Did you mean it?"
"Yes. Yes, I meant it."
His hand left her pussy. She heard the whistle of air a split second before his palm cracked against her ass.
Kara screamed, her whole body jerking. The sting radiated through her, sharp and hot, and she felt tears prick her eyes.
"Count," Ty said.
"What?"
"Count the spanks. Like a good girl."
He hit her again, same spot, and she sobbed.
"One," she choked out.
"One what?"
"One, Daddy."
"Better."
He spanked her again—left cheek, right cheek, upper thighs, the backs of her knees. Each impact made her jolt forward, her hips slamming against the edge of the desk, her bound hands clenching into fists. She counted through tears, through the haze of pain and pleasure that had blurred together until she couldn't tell them apart.
Twelve. She got to twelve before he stopped.
Her ass was on fire, hot and swollen, and she was shaking. But her cunt was dripping, her thighs slick, and she was so close to coming she could taste it.
"Please," she whispered. "Please, I need—"
"You need what?"
"To come. Please let me come."
He laughed. Actually laughed, low and cruel, and the sound made her stomach flip.
"You think you've earned that?"
He reached around her, his hand sliding between her legs again. Two fingers pressed into her without warning, and she cried out, her inner walls clamping down around him.
"That's it," he murmured. "That's a good girl. Take my fingers."
She rocked back against his hand, fucking herself on his fingers, desperate and shameless. He curled them inside her, finding that spot again, and she was right there, right on the edge—
He pulled out.
"No!" The word tore from her throat, raw and desperate. "No, please, please don't stop—"
He spanked her pussy.
The impact was different—sharper, more intimate, the sting radiating through her cunt and up into her belly. Kara screamed, her legs buckling, and Ty caught her around the waist to keep her upright.
"You keep bratting," he said, "and I keep punishing you. Is that how you want this to go?"
She should have said no. She should have begged him to stop, to just fuck her, to give her what she needed.
Instead, she laughed. A broken, breathless laugh, and she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder.
"Is that the best you've got, Daddy?"
His eyes went dark. Completely dark, pupils blown wide, jaw tight.
He released her waist, and she sagged against the desk, catching herself with her bound hands. She heard him moving again, opening drawers, shoving things aside.
"What are you—" she started.
"Shut up."
She shut up.
The drawer of her nightstand rattled open. She heard him rummaging, and then a low whistle.
"Well, well."
Kara's blood ran cold. She knew exactly what he'd found.
He walked back to the desk, and she heard the soft thud of something being set down. Then his hand was in her hair again, pulling her head up, making her look.
The dildo lay on the desk next to her face. Pink silicone, realistic, seven inches. She'd bought it three years ago, after a deployment, and it had served her well.
"Seven inches," Ty observed. "That's cute."
Kara's face burned. "It's—"
"Mine's nine."
She knew. She'd felt it in her mouth, in her hand, her pussy. She knew exactly how big he was.
He picked up the dildo, turning it over in his hands. Then his gaze fell on her feet, and something shifted in his expression.
He yanked off her left sock.
Kara made a noise of protest—it was stupid, it was just a sock—but he ignored her. She watched him stretch the sock over the dildo, saw him find a rubber band somewhere, probably from the desk, and secure it around the base.
The sock covered the dildo like a condom, white cotton stretched over silicone. Ty looked at his handiwork, then at her.
"Open your mouth."
"Ty—"
"Open. Your. Mouth."
She opened her mouth, and he pushed the dildo inside.
The taste of rubber and cotton filled her mouth, dry and strange. He pushed it deeper, until the tip hit the back of her throat, and Kara gagged.
"Hold it there," he said. "Don't you dare let it fall."
Then he knelt behind her.
His fingers found her cunt again, spreading her open, and she felt the cool air hit her slick skin. A moment later, something else touched her—the dildo, she realized, the one he'd pulled from her mouth. He pushed it against her entrance, just the tip, not enough to enter.
"You want this?" he asked.
She nodded frantically, the motion making the desk creak.
"Use your words."
"Yes. Yes, I want it."
He slid it inside her, slow and even, all seven inches in one smooth motion. Kara moaned, the sensation overwhelming—being stretched and stuffed and completely at his mercy.
He fucked her with the dildo, long strokes, in and out. The cotton sock dragged against her inner walls, creating friction that was almost too much. She could feel herself dripping around it, soaking the fabric.
"That's good," Ty murmured. "Get it nice and wet for me."
She didn't know what he meant. She didn't care. All she could focus on was the rhythm of the dildo, the sting still radiating from her spanked ass.
He pulled the dildo out.
Then he was peeling off her other sock, stretching it over the dildo, the first sock still attached, now both of them layered together. And he edged her again, until the dildo slid out of her.
"What are you—"
He shoved both socks into her mouth.
The taste of her own arousal flooded her tongue, tangy and intimate. She gagged around them, but he held them in place, reaching for the thong still tangled around her ankles. He pulled it up, over her mouth, securing the socks inside.
The fabric cut into her cheeks, tight and binding. She couldn't speak, couldn't close her mouth properly, couldn't do anything but breathe through her nose and whimper.
"There," Ty said. "Now you can't call me Daddy anymore."
He was behind her, and she heard the familiar sound of his hand on his cock, stroking, slicking himself with her juices. Then the head of his cock pressed against her entrance.
He pushed in.
One stroke. Bottomed out. The stretch was brutal—so much bigger than the dildo, so much fuller than anything she'd felt. Kara screamed into the gag, a sound that came out muffled and broken.
He didn't wait for her to adjust.
He fucked her, hard and fast, his hips slamming against her ass. The desk shook with every thrust, her laptop rattling, pens rolling onto the floor. The thing she'd knocked over earlier—she still didn't know what it was—crunched under Ty's foot.
"You're so fucking tight," he grunted. "Squeezing my cock like that. You like being full, don't you? Like being my bratty little slut?"
She nodded, tears streaming down her face, drool soaking into the thong gag. She couldn't speak, but she didn't need to. He knew.
He reached around her, fingers finding her clit. He rubbed it in rough circles, his thrusts not slowing, and Kara's vision went white.
She came.
The orgasm ripped through her, brutal and consuming. She shook, her bound hands clenching, her whole body convulsing around his cock. She screamed into the gag, the sound high and desperate.
Ty didn't stop.
He fucked her through it, his cock hammering into her, extending the pleasure until it became something else. Then his finger moved lower, slick with her own wetness, pressing against her other hole.
Kara's eyes flew open.
He circled her asshole with his finger, applying pressure but not pushing in.
"You want this?" he asked.
She couldn't speak. But she nodded, frantic, her bound hands flexing.
"You want my finger in your ass while I fuck you?"
Another nod. More frantic.
He pushed in.
Just one finger, but it felt enormous, intrusive, filling her in a way she'd never experienced. He worked it in slowly, letting her adjust, and all the while his cock kept moving in her pussy, slow now, deep.
"Good girl," he murmured. "Taking my finger in your ass. Look at you."
She was crying. She was drooling. She was a complete mess, bound and gagged and stuffed full of him. And she had never felt more alive.
He curled his finger inside her, finding that spot through the wall of her ass, and pressed.
Kara came again.
She came so hard her vision went dark at the edges. Her cunt clenched around his cock like a fist, milking him, and she heard Ty groan behind her, felt his rhythm falter.
"That's it," he said. "That's it, take it, fucking take it—"
He pulled out.
She heard the wet sound of his hand on his cock, fast and frantic. Then heat splashed across her ass, her lower back, soaking into her ruined skin. He came with a grunt, painting her with his cum, marking her in the most visceral way.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then Ty's hands were on her, untying the thong from her mouth, pulling the soaked socks out. She gasped, dragging in air, her jaw aching. He unbuckled the belt from her wrists, and her arms fell to her sides, completely numb.
He turned her around, and she slumped against the desk, unable to stand on her own. Her legs were shaking, her whole body trembling, and she couldn't meet his eyes.
"Hey," he said, cupping her face. "Look at me."
She looked up.
His face was soft now. No more cruelty, no more control. Just Ty, looking at her like she was something precious.
"Was that okay?" he asked.
Kara laughed. It came out cracked and hoarse, but it was real. "Was that—Ty, I came twice."
"That's not what I asked."
She paused. Swallowed. Felt the ache in her jaw, the sting on her ass, the pleasant soreness between her legs.
"Yeah," she said. "It was okay. It was more than okay."
He kissed her forehead. Then her nose. Then her mouth, soft and gentle, nothing like the man who'd just fucked her senseless.
"Good," he said. "Because I meant what I said earlier."
"What's that?"
"I'm not done with you."
Kara's heart stuttered. She looked up at him, at his beautiful face, at the smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
"Good," she said. "Because I'm not done with you either."
He picked her up—just scooped her off the desk like she weighed nothing—and carried her to the bed. He laid her down on the rumpled duvet, then climbed in beside her, pulling her against his chest.
She could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong. His hand traced lazy patterns on her shoulder, her arm, her hip.
"You're staying," she said. It wasn't a question.
"Yeah," Ty said. "I'm staying."
Kara closed her eyes. Outside, the city glittered, indifferent to the two of them tangled together in her bed. Inside, the loft was quiet, save for the sound of their breathing, slowly syncing.
She didn't know what this was. She didn't know what it meant, or where it was going, or whether she was setting herself up for something she couldn't handle.
But right now, with his arm around her and his breath warm against her hair, she didn't care.
Right now, she was exactly where she wanted to be.