Total pages in book: 248
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
They move so fast I don’t even have time to regret my words. One second Trip’s on top of me, and the next, he’s sitting, and I’m face down across both their laps. And I know I’ve gone too far.
That’s the last thought I have before a hand—presumably Tripp’s—cracks across my ass. Hard. Even over the top of my jeans, it stings.
What. The. Fuck?
Questions race through my mind at a mile a minute. Who the fuck do they think they are? What made them think I’d be okay with this? Do they regularly treat grown-ass women like children? What do I do now? And the real kicker: Why do I want more?
“Ow!” I gasp, and squirm to get away, but we're too close to the edge of a cliff and their strong hands are holding me in place.
They smack me again and again, their hard hands creating a steady rhythm across my ass. And when the pain reaches a crescendo and my brain has recovered from the shock, I try once more to get away.
“You will not disparage yourself anymore.” Trip’s hard voice cuts through my protests, rendering me silent and freezing me in place. “You are a beautiful, smart, strong, gorgeous woman and any man would be lucky to call you his.” Every few words he punctuates his edict with a hard slap across the lower curve of my ass.
“Or theirs,” Levi adds. “Whether you are ours or not, you really need to knock that off. It’s not becoming, and it's bad for your mental health.” He adds a few hard swats of his own, leaving me wondering why they care so much.
Why I don’t care enough.
Tears spring to my eyes as I realize what they are saying is true. I have been hurting myself. Bullying myself. One thought at a time. Too old. Too frumpy. Too big. Not pretty enough. Every day for years I’ve been chipping away at my own self-worth. Disgusted, I swipe away my tears. They are spanking me like a child and I’m crying like one. I feel ridiculous, but there’s something else. I feel… relieved.
Like I’ve been waiting for years for someone to call me out on my bullshit. My friends do occasionally, I guess, but for some reason, it doesn’t quite hit the same when they say it. I always thought they were just being nice. Just because they don’t want me to say those things doesn't mean they aren’t true.
But now, ass up across the laps of two much younger, extremely gorgeous men, getting spanked like a naughty child… it sinks in. I do need to stop being so mean to myself. I have a lot of value. I’m funny, smart, generous, kind, and even kind of pretty. Laughter bubbles up in my chest, escaping my lips in a huff.
“Okay!” I cry when a hand smacks the lower part of my ass. “You’re right. I’m sorry!”
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Tripp answers, his serious-sounding voice sending chills down my spine. “Tell me the truth.”
The truth? For a moment, my brain stutters. I haven’t been lying. What is he asking for? And then it hits me. The realizations I’ve come to are the truth, and the things I’ve been saying about myself for years are the lies. I spoke the lies out loud for so long, giving them power. Now I need to do the same with the truth.
I open my mouth to do so, and stop short. It’s much harder to say I’m pretty than it is to say I’m fat. It’s much easier to say I’m old then it is to say I’m funny and smart and hardworking and kind. But I force the words past my lips, trying them out. “I’m… kind of pretty,” I say adding the modifier in order to not sound vain.
“Kind of?” Levi scoffs, slapping my ass hard. “Woman, you’re gorgeous. Beautiful. Stunning Even. It’s okay to admit it. Say it like you mean it.”
“Um…okay.”
“We’re waiting.” Tripp rains down a volley of smacks across the tops of my thighs to accentuate his point. It stings like a bitch and fresh tears spring to my eyes.
“I’m… pretty.” I drop the modifier but don’t go quite as far as Levi did.
“It’s a start,” Tripp concedes, pausing his onslaught and rubbing my hot aching flesh with his calloused hand.
“That means keep going.” Levi isn’t as pleased and he renews spanking. His hand isn’t as hard as Tripp’s but it hurts all the same and I know my ass must be glowing bright red and covered in handprints.
“I’m…” Dammit. Why is this so hard?
“I’m… smart.” I finally say. It’s not something I’ve ever contested and the words slide out easily.
Levi keeps spanking.
“I’m funny!” I cry, desperate for him to stop. “And kind! And I work hard. And um… I’m a good friend.”