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Home / Stormy Night Publications Newsletter / Forbidden: A Mafia Billionaire Romance by Alta Hensley – Extended Preview

Forbidden: A Mafia Billionaire Romance by Alta Hensley – Extended Preview


I realized that this needed to be done quickly. If I gave her too much time to think about it, she’d turn tail and run, and I didn’t want to have to be chasing her halfway down the street. So I took one of the straight-backed chairs—one of the leftovers from my dining set—and put it in the middle of the cream-colored Persian rug. Since there was only me except when I entertained, I didn’t need all of the eight chairs that had come with the antique carved oak table, so some of them had ended up in the foyer, a couple in my study, and one in the bedroom. Their dual purpose had always made me smile secretly when I looked at them scattered around the house.

I tugged on Raychel’s arm, and she resisted, though not as much as I’d expected. She oofed a little when I laid her over my lap, and that thing that only seemed to happen with her now had happened again, and there was no way she was going to mistake what was poking boldly into her belly. I decided to ignore it—as much as was possible. I knew that if I mentioned how hard my cock was and how badly I wanted to fuck her, she would dissolve right into the floor. It was best to just concentrate on the matter at hand.

It had been a long while since I’d had a beautiful lady over my lap. I had almost forgotten the feeling, but I couldn’t take the time to luxuriate in it either. She needed to learn who was boss, and I intended to get the message home as quickly and efficiently as possible. One thing I knew was important in a future relationship with Raychel, was to always follow through with the threat of discipline. Consistency was of utmost importance, or the whole respect issue for me as someone she could count on and rely on became wishy-washy.

Despite the fact that I wasn’t at all sure I should do it, I tugged down her jeans and panties all at once, before she really had a chance to work herself into a lather. There would be time for that later, I was sure. But for the moment, I had caught her completely off guard, and I was going to use that to my advantage.

Her round white globes on full display would have made my knees collapse had I not already been sitting down. I couldn’t fight the urge to glance at the V between her silky thighs just begging my hand to dip in and explore. I wasn’t sure why, but I was pretty positive that if I dipped my finger into her pussy, it would be coated in her juices of arousal instantly. Her breathing revealed much more than just fear of the upcoming punishment.


I was absolutely mortified. I had begun to reconcile myself with the idea that he might spank me. That I’d have to lie over his lap and feel his hand connecting with my bare ass, but my mind had sterilized it nicely for me, so that I didn’t have to deal with the more intimate, or painful, aspects of being put in that position.

But here I was, and it was intimate enough when we were both fully clothed. Then he reached around under me and undid the button and zipper of my jeans, and before I could even manage a wiggle of protest, my pants and panties were around my mid-calves.

Oh, God! I was completely bare and he could see everything!

Before I knew it, the first swat descended, exploding on my bare flesh and making me draw in a deep breath with which to throw my head back and squall, but then the second and third and fourth smacks came along, and he settled into a rhythm that I knew was going to be trouble, and I didn’t have a chance to dwell on the spike that was poking up from beneath me into my tummy.

“No! Stop! Please! Anthony!” There was nothing I could do. I was over his lap, bare bottomed, in the house where I had once been spanked before. His hand—broad as a barn and hard as a plank of redwood—was descending over and over onto my well-rounded butt.

This wasn’t like the spanking before. I didn’t know why, but it wasn’t. Maybe because I knew this one was coming. Or maybe because in the depth of my soul, I secretly had wanted it. But whatever fantasies I might have indulged in regarding what being spanked would be like were nothing in comparison to the real thing. There was nothing I could do, nothing I could read—online or otherwise—nothing that I could have heard from someone about it that would have prepared me for what it was really like to feel two thick thighs beneath my ribcage, supporting me as his left arm lay lightly over the small of my back, trapping me in place as easily and naturally as could be. This was totally different than the last time. Was it because I was different? Or maybe it was because the man issuing the punishment was different… different to me. Whatever the reason, this spanking felt like something I had never experienced in my entire existence.

I had never felt more vulnerable in my life. It wasn’t even so much the situation. It was that it was Anthony. It was Anthony who was actually delivering the spanking.

I didn’t know where to put the pain. It hurt at least a thousand times worse than any spanking I had ever received as a child or by him the one other time, and he wasn’t showing any signs of stopping any time soon. I wiggled and squirmed and tried to buck or arch away from him, but nothing was working—the only thing that I was positive about my future was that that hand was going to continue to distribute its pain all over my rounded bottom and down the backs of each of my thighs.

Those were the worst of all of them. Because of the size of his hand and how little acreage there was back there, he had easily gone over the small territory of my butt once and was ending up having to spank the same place several times, but the worst swats were still on the backs of my thighs, or that tender area just at the crease of my bottom. It was atrocious, and I wasn’t at all sure I was going to survive it.

But just to prove me wrong on how awful I thought the spanking was, Anthony paused the punishment and moved his hand to the juncture between my thighs. He dipped a finger into the crevice and ran it along the wetness of my pussy. Intense humiliation filled me as he coated his finger with my arousal from the spanking. My body betrayed me in every way as I nearly moaned as he touched me in the most intimate of ways.

I held my breath as I waited for what would come next.

Punishment or reward?

I wanted his finger to press inside of me. I wanted so much more than what he was doing. My pussy got wetter as he circled my clit with his fingertip and dipped back into the folds again. My body tensed, but not because I hated what was going on, but because I was afraid of showing just how much I was enjoying it and craving more.

But just as quickly as he had surprised me by placing his finger at the entrance of my pussy, he moved his wet finger to my anus and pressed firmly.

“Submission is part of discipline,” he said huskily. “Humility mixed with some shame.”

I gasped as the tip of his finger breeched my tight hole. The sting and the shock caused me to buck against his hand, which only drove his finger a little deeper into my ass.

“Anthony,” I barely whispered, not sure if I wanted to beg him to stop or beg him to continue on.

“A spanking isn’t the only way to punish naughty girls.”

His finger pressed harder, stretching me wider than I would ever have thought possible.


The heat of my butt from the spanking nowhere compared to the heat radiating from my face from the embarrassment of being over Anthony’s lap with his finger in my ass.

“It hurts,” I squealed as he drove his finger deep within me. “Please, no more.”

Rather than listening to my plea, he began to pump his finger in and out at the same pace he had spanked my bare bottom. A tempo of excruciating, torturous, and yet forbidden pleasure set my body alive.

I hated it.

I loved it.

I wanted it to stop.

But I also wanted it to go further.

I couldn’t decide.

Fortunately, Anthony made the decision for me when he pulled out his finger and continued on with the spanking but with even more force than he had done before the anal fingering.

Anthony was just beginning to lecture when I was starting to think I was going to go crazy from the searing heat he was creating on my ass. It was far more painful than he had been spanking. “When I tell you do to something, I expect you to do it. It’s not as if you didn’t know where you were going to end up if you didn’t obey me, Raychel. I think I made that perfectly clear. All you had to do was go and get a coat. But no, you had to be stubborn. Those born of the Polov bloodline are stubborn to the bone—I should have known you weren’t that different from your father.”


Bringing up Dasha at a time like this probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I couldn’t help it. The comparisons were inevitable. But this was Raychel, who had probably rarely been spanked in her life, if at all. She was sobbing and crying with each swat, and I didn’t want to be too hard on her this time. I was sure, that even quiet as she was, she would get herself into more trouble down the road. I was her guardian now, and I wasn’t going to let her get away with much. There would be a time to be harsher with her, I was sure. And I also couldn’t help but picture how I would fuck her after each time I punished her.

But for now, I gave her twenty additional hard slaps as I watched each red handprint come up through the already pinkened flesh. When I finished, she hung over my legs, and I had to breathe through my urge to plunge my cock into her tight pussy right then and there.

Disciplining a woman was a strange thing. In some ways I found it—aspects of it—unbearably sexy. Having a beautiful young woman over my lap, her bottom revealed and dancing beneath the crack of my hand, the cascade of hair, the enticing wiggle as she tried to get out of what she knew she had coming to her. But the inflicting pain part—that was hard, especially when you cared about the woman you were disciplining, and I was of a mind that if you didn’t care about her, you shouldn’t be touching her like that in the first place.

But I knew that Raychel had a need. I knew she needed someone to watch out for her, for her best interests, even against herself. I knew she needed a strong but gentle hand on her ass at all times—at least to mentally know that it was there—to remind her that she was cared for by someone.

By me.

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