A room comes with a cost - Part 3 - Sexgeschichten

A room comes with a cost - Part 3

... constant reminder from my body.

"Eat," Mike said, forking his plate.

Silence chewed louder than the food. My appetite? Gone. Every bite stuck, the demerits tallying in my head. Eight. What now? Spanks? More "checks"? The vid hung unspoken, their secret pact a ghost at the table.

Plates cleared, Mike wiped his mouth, pulling the log close.

"Evening review. Rule 3... accountability."

His voice was steady, but his eyes? They flicked to my tank, the way it hugged my chest, then lower to my crossed legs. Uncomfortable, yeah... like yesterday's vacuum stare... but edged with something new. Ownership.

"Eight demerits. Sass four times, slack twice, resistance to checks twice. And..."

He paused, pen tapping.

"Positive notes: Arousal confirmed during inspections. Progress on motivation."

My fork froze mid-air, face igniting. They logged that?

"You can't..."

"Demerit 9," Liam chirped, scribbling.

Steven smirked, phone face-down but tempting.

Mike held up a hand.

"Enough. Rule 5... evaluation starts at five. Nine means consequences. Tonight: Over my knee, two swats per demerit. Eighteen total. Shorts down after ten... bare for the rest. And during? Brief checks. To gauge."

The room spun. Over his knee. Bare. Checks. Rebellion roared... No, fuck this, I'm out... but my legs wouldn't move. The vid. Rent. Their eyes, hungry now, Mike's included. That dark flicker in him, the power they plotted. I stood slow, chair scraping, throat ...

... dry.

"Fine. But this is... wrong."

Mike pushed his chair back, patting his thigh... broad, denim-clad, waiting.

"Over. Now."

I draped across, belly on his lap, ass up, the position childlike and filthy all at once. My tank rode up, exposing midriff; shorts hugged my cheeks. His hand rested light on my back... steadying, but heavy.

"Count 'em. Thank you after each. Builds respect."

The first swat landed... Steven's turn, palm cracking sharp over my shorts. Sting bloomed, heat radiating.

"One," I gritted. "Thank you."

Liam next... lower, catching the crease.

"Two. Thank you."

Mike's was firmest, centered, jolting me forward into his thigh. The ridge there... hard, unmistakable... pressed against my hip. Oh god.

"Three. Thank you."

They rotated, hands alternating... Steven's playful, Liam's eager, Mike's measured but building. By ten, my ass throbbed, shorts damp at the seam, the friction of each strike grinding me against his leg.

"Shorts off," Mike grunted, fingers hooking the waistband.

I lifted hips... instinct, shame... and they slid down to my ankles, panties with them, baring me to the air. Pussy exposed, lips puffy and glistening under their stares.

Liam grabbed my shorts and my panties and removed them completely so Mike could spread my legs more, interlocking his with mine so I couldn't clench my legs anymore shut.

"Checks during," Mike murmured, like it was protocol.

His hand cupped first... not swatting, but parting my cheeks, ...