“Come here.” He beckoned me and I walked towards his curling finger. He caught my hand in his and pulled me down towards him. His lips impacted mine in a shock of heat and lust and I melted into his kiss. Eventually I was so unstable that I dropped to my knees. His lips followed mine down and barely parted.
Leo’s hands rested on my waist and as I pressed into the kiss harder, desperate for more, they crept up my sides to cup at my breasts over the lace of my bra. It hit me then, the realisation that my body had turned him on. My naked form, wobbly bits and all broke down his control and caused this frenzy of lust to happen. It was intoxicating.
“Right, enough of that, for now.” He pulled back. “You wicked temptress. I almost forgot what we were here for, then. Now, get over my knee so I can spank you.”
There it was, the invitation I’d been expecting. It was going to happen. There had never been a moment in my life before where I’d been so simultaneously petrified and turned on.
“Quickly now, Penelope.”
I shuffled hastily to do his bidding and draped myself over his lap. There was probably a sexy, ladylike way of doing it. But I didn’t know it, so I just sort of clambered and flopped. Leo didn’t seem to mind, though. His warm hand cupped my arse and squeezed a buttock over the fabric of my knickers.
I tried to adjust to hanging upside down. My fingers and toes rested on the floor but the majority of my weight was being taken by his lap. His lap that sported a definite bulge that dug into my side and sent shivers down my spine.
“Cold, love? Oh, I’ll soon solve that.”
I didn’t think he meant that he’d give me his suit jacket again, even though he was still fully dressed. That made me feel all the more vulnerable, and I wriggled against the soft barrier of his trousers while I waited for his next move.
Leo hooked his fingers into my underwear and ripped the beige satin down over my buttocks, revealing my flesh to his sight. I clamped my eyes tightly shut. Shame and humiliation flooded me, heated my cheeks and sent a shot of pure lust to nestle between my thighs.
The next few seconds strung out forever. He said nothing, touched nothing and I was left suspended in doubt and anticipation. What was he going to do next? Was he looking at my arse and criticising it? Was I hurting him, leaning over him so heavily? My mind buzzed with questions steeped in anxiety and age-old self-doubt. What if he changed his mind? What if I was doing nothing more than making a great big fool of myself?
His first spank shook the worries from my mind and exploded sensation from my buttocks and throughout my whole body. I’d had no warning and the shock of the impact made me yell even though it hadn’t been that hard of a slap.
The second stung more, and while the spanks continued, the sting grew and grew. Dizziness combined with lust to make me light-headed. I wanted to kick my legs but was afraid I’d fall if I did, so I stayed as still as I could as the hits rained down on my arse. I couldn’t keep quiet, though. I moaned and yelped and screamed and hissed and Leo didn’t say a word, he just kept on spanking me. Over and over, rhythmically and consistently.
I had no idea how many times he’d spanked me; there was no way I could keep count but my bottom felt tender and delicate. With every impact of his hand an explosion of pain shuttled through my body, bounced about and all that energy and frenzy seemed to focus in on my clit. There wasn’t much in the way of physical stimulation there, but each smack rocked me forward and the impact of my pubis and his leg was enough to send a tremor to my pussy. The regular rocking made me long to be fucked; I needed to be, wanted to be. The sting and the arousal became one. I howled from pain and frustrated need. I was as close to orgasm as I’d ever been without some form of direct stimulation to my clit. My whole body was alive with ecstasy. I’d never felt so desperately aroused before.
“Now, Penelope, will you be a good girl for your Master?”
“Yes, Sir!” I gasped, eagerly. Another slap impacted my sore flesh and I yelped with the sting.
“Do you really mean that?”
“Yes, Sir, I do.” I moaned, clenching and expecting another blow.
“Good girl.” He soothed his hand over my heated backside. “Such a good girl. You took your punishment so well.”
I know it sounds absurd but I felt so proud at that moment. Leo’s praise buoyed me. I had survived the spanking and had enjoyed every moment of it.
“Now, good girls deserve a treat, don’t they? So what do you want, Penny?”
I wanted to tell him. I really did but I wasn’t used to being so forward. Whenever I’d directly asked for sex in the past it had completely backfired. Men, in my experience, didn’t like it when I expressed what I wanted instead of just complying with their needs.
“Come on now, don’t be shy.” Leo stroked my arse, the prickles of arousal made me moan. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”
“Fuck me.” I whispered so quietly I wasn’t even sure I said it aloud.
“What was that, Penny? Speak up.” His fingers slipped down between the crack of my buttocks and slid through the silken moistness of my pussy lips until the tip of his longest finger brushed my clit.
“Fuck me.” I gasped. Leo rubbed my clit and I moaned loudly.
“Fuck me.” I thrust my hips to feel more of his touch.
“Fuck me, please,” I begged, so wrapped up in my desire to come that propriety and anxiety was stripped away.
“Certainly,” he answered, pulling his hand from between my thighs. “Get up.”
I shifted back over his lap until I was once again kneeling on the floor. Leo stood and offered me his hand with a smile. I grabbed hold of it and he helped me to my feet. The knickers that had clung across my thighs fell in a pool to the carpet.
I’d only just got my balance when he pushed me and with a yelp I fell onto the sofa, back first, arms flailing. It was soft and giving and luckily long enough so I didn’t bash my head off the arm. I was about to call Leo a nasty name, instinct had kicked in, but he silenced me by ripping down the zip of his trousers and pulling out his cock.
The contrast between his smartly tailored suit and his raging hard on was poetic. He was vulnerable in that moment; I was seeing something deeper than the seduction technique and the masterly ways. I was seeing him and his desires. He wanted me as much as I wanted him.
Within moments he was on his knees on the sofa. Nestled between my thighs he lifted my legs and pulled me towards him. Desperately, I popped my hips so I could strain closer. He held me just in front of his pubis and peered down the length of my body to capture my gaze. He said nothing. The moment of vulnerability was gone. He showed me that he was in charge once again and only when he decided to move would I feel his cock deep inside me.
Maybe he saw that realisation in my eyes because he slid forward, nudged my wet lips open and slipped inside me slowly, infuriatingly slowly. I felt every bump, every fibre of his straining erection as he pressed forward until he was fully buried within me and my buttocks rubbed against the flies of his trousers.
I never stopped looking into his eyes. I was pulled in by the icy blue of them, the hue deepening and warming with every movement within me. His pupils dilated, his eyes animated with lust while he held the rest of his body rigidly in control.
What did he see in my eyes? Did they shine with arousal and speak of the pride I felt surviving my first spanking? Did he see how much it meant to me to be there with him, to be accepted as his slave? Could he see how much I needed him and wanted him to be my Master?
I couldn’t have put all that into words but I hoped he saw it while we rested, joined together so intimately.
“So,” he said, like we were just engaged in conversation, not locked together in lust, “what was it you wanted?”
My cheeks blazed with heat. I disengaged my gaze from his and looked at the sofa back then over to the huge window and the tower top view beyond.
“I want you to fuck me,” I replied. I knew I had to say it, so I di
d even though my body cringed with the act of being so brazen.
“Oh yes?” He pulled back just a little. My pussy reacted, clenching to keep him within. “Then why don’t you look me in the eye and tell me that?”
“I can’t.” I shook my head, cursing myself for being so particularly ridiculous. I was part way to fucking the man, he’d seen me naked and spanked my arse. Why couldn’t I meet his gaze?
“There’s no shame in admitting what you want, Penny. Come on now, look at me. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Oh, fuck, will I give it to you.” He groaned as my pussy once more clamped around him. My sex was certain of what she wanted, why couldn’t I be so bold?
I gulped and looked up at him. I was aware of everything, every minute detail. The softness of the sofa against my throbbing bottom, the chafing of his trousers between my thighs, the tightness of my nipples and the rough gasping of my breath as I held back the arousal inside.
I closed my eyes for a moment. It was all too much. Leo ran his hand down the outside of my thigh and pulled it back again with gentleness. This act of kind coaxing gave me the confidence to open my eyes and ask him for what I wanted.
“Please fuck me, Sir.”
“With pleasure.” He grinned broadly, his face lighting up and softening for a moment, then hardening once again as he drove himself deep within me.
“Yes,” I cried, “fuck yes.” His rhythm was fast and hard and I shook with the impact of his thrusts. My eyes closed and I raised my hands desperately to feel him, to grab on to him and hold on tight. He took one hand in his, kissed it and then pressed it down to my pubis. I didn’t have to ask, I knew what he wanted me to do. I rested my other hand on his chest, the soft shirt and rough buttons jiggling against my palm. I couldn’t wait to feel the naked chest beneath so I insinuated a few fingers through the gaps in the buttons and felt the soft, sparse mat of hair below covering his scorching hot skin.
Finding that connection to him flesh to flesh let me concentrate on wiggling my other fingers between my body and his, running them down into my wet slit and finding my clit.
“That’s it,” he murmured, “that’s it, finger yourself, come for me.”
“Yes, Sir,” I gasped.
He collapsed gently but purposefully over me. His hands came to rest either side of me, his clothed arms rubbed against my naked shoulders. I smelled his exotic and musky aftershave, felt the edges of his suit jacket tickling my ribs and the hard pounding of his cock inside me.
I was surrounded by him, all my senses reeled with his closeness and I was close to orgasm.
“Ask me,” he whispered, “ask me to come. You need permission first.”
I don’t know if my movements changed or if my breathing became more erratic but he spoke just as I reached the crest of arousal.
“Can I come?” I asked without hesitation, then corrected myself almost immediately. “Can I come, Sir?”
“Yes.” One word, the syllable stretched out as I clenched around him and let the pressure that had built to such a pitch go. I shook and screamed while the orgasm exploded through me. I gripped at his shirt, tore at it while the power of lust and kink discovered flooded through me. I needed to grip hold of him or I’d fall, I was convinced of it.
And through that tumult of ecstasy I felt him tighten and hold inside of me. Heard the rough gasp of his breath and sensed the stretch in his muscles as he held himself deep within me, his own climax feeding on mine. His shoulders and hips slumped. We flowed from the flood of ecstasy into the calmness of contentment.
I didn’t want to breathe, I didn’t want to move, I didn’t want to do anything to ruin the perfection of that moment.
Leo was the first to shift, moving up and away from me, untangling our limbs, then he curled around me. The huge width of the sofa meant he could wrap himself around me, his back to the sofa back, his arm draped over my middle, his breath tickled the nape of my neck.
“So, how was it?” he asked, casually.
“Great,” I responded, without taking a moment to think.
“Do you think you’d like to make this a regular thing?” Again his tone was light but it belied a deeper urgency.
“I think I would, yes Sir. I mean, if you want to, Sir. If you want me, Sir.”
“Oh, Penny. I want you, I really want you. I want to explore every inch of your body, I want to spank you and paddle you and maybe even cane you eventually. I want to tie you up, hold you down, tease you, tempt you, torture you in so many ways.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” He kissed the nape of my neck and squeezed me closer to him. My buttocks sparked with remembered pain as the tender flesh pushed against him. “Yes, I really, really do.”
“Good,” I whispered, “because I want you too.”
“Great, because I owe you another punishment.”
“What for?” I asked, my relaxed limbs stiffening up.
“You ripped off two of my shirt buttons and this was one of my favourites.”
“Oops. I’m sorry, Sir. I can sew them back on for you if you want. Just call room service and get them to bring us a sewing kit. It’ll only take me a minute, I’m pretty good at sewing…”
“Shut up, Penelope, and kiss me,” Leo commanded, so I turned to face him. “I know I’m going to have to correct you a lot aren’t I? You naughty, wicked girl.”
“Yes, Sir,” I said, dropping my gaze from his to the gap in his expensive shirt. My cheeks burned with shame and pleasure. I remembered how I’d done it. My body wracked with the ecstasy of being joined with Leo, being joined with the man I was already getting used to thinking of as my Master.
“I can’t wait.” He smiled and pressed his lips to mine in a kiss that sealed the deal. I was his, forever.
More About Victoria Blisse
Victoria Blisse is a mother, wife, Christian, Manchester United fan and award winning erotica author. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut Alfresco, Smut in the City and Smut by the Sea anthologies.
Victoria is also one of the brains behind the fabulous Smut events, days dedicated to erotica, fun and prizes.
She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.
Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.
Website http://victoriablisse.co.uk
Smut UK http://smutbythesea.co.uk
Words of the Marquis
Kay Jaybee
They were only words.
Just rows of faded ink on two age-spotted sheets of parchment.
Oh, but what words!
Her heartbeat increased as she thought about donning the brilliant white, pure cotton gloves she was required to wear before she dared hold his wisdom in her hands.
During the sale, as the bids increased to dizzying financial heights, each nod of the auctioneer had sent a shaft of desire speeding from her brain to her crotch. When the gavel had finally come down and the auctioneer had declared the documents hers, the thud it made against the desk had almost tripped her into a pre-emptive climax there and then.
That had been five days ago. Since then she’d made herself wait. The hours had been long. But it would be worth it. She was sure her Master would have approved of such self-denial.
The cabinet stood centre stage in her library. For months it had waited, its velvet inlay empty, its interior hungry for a deserving incumbent. Now it had a worthy filling. Each day that week she’d allowed herself a brief glance at its contents. Just a snatched look; building up the tension inside her until the right time. And that time was now.
Her staff had gone home.
The house was quiet.
Oh how she’d waited for this.
Standing squarely before the cabinet, she gazed at the teachings placed
neatly side-by-side. They stared right back at her, boring deep into the pupils of her navy blue eyes. Her pulse quickened as she felt the power of the mind behind the words bypass her sight, enflame her body, and send a hit of arousal directly to her solar plexus.
She’d rehearsed the forthcoming ritual in her bedroom many times. It had to be perfect. Exact. Her Master would have approved of the exactness.
Usually so composed, her slender hands quivered as she readied herself. With her feet apart and her chocolate brown hair swept into a high ponytail, she allowed her fingers to slowly undo the tiny fastenings of her cream silk blouse. Leaving her shirt flapping open, so that it revealed just a hint of her ivory satin bra, she ceremoniously pulled down the zip of her charcoal grey pencil skirt, letting the garment drop to the parquet floor.
The gloves were waiting on a table to the side of the cabinet. Picking up the first one, she licked her lips as she eased her crimson fingernails inside, her blood racing in her veins.
The second glove went on faster, and she told herself off for rushing; for not taking the time she’d promised herself she would take. Surely the words, his words, would not be pleased if she didn’t stick to the plan.
Steadying herself for a second, she then moved closer to the cabinet. As she gripped its lid, her nipples poked against the inside of her bra, and the twitch that had begun in her pussy the moment she’d stepped into the room became impossible to ignore.
Her throat was suddenly sandpaper dry.
Her eyes dilated as they fixated on the worn fragments of manuscript. Each looped letter seemed to underline the stroke of the whips she pictured him using, each dotted ‘i’ represented a spank, and each full stop punctuated a period of waiting...of painful, craved, punishing action.
Sexy Just Got Rich: Brit Babes Do Billionaires Page 7