Book Read Free

desire for Touch: a M/F, D/s love story (RiverHart Book 1)

Page 21

by Adira August


  “Yes, Sir.” She answered him.

  “Take off the shirt.” He tossed the bamboo paddle back into the duffel. Not because she seemed afraid of it, but because the slapper paddle made a great sharp sound on contact, which would give her something more to react to. Nerves and imagination would supply the rest of the excitement, as the two layers of soft leather would barely pink her skin.

  From the bottom of the duffel, he drew the thing that would, a brown leather riding crop he set on the table for her perusal. It wasn’t really a “crop,” crops being too long and difficult to control for lap work, but a short, fourteen-inch “bat.” The corners of the leather keeper had been rounded and sanded, but the high quality harness leather still delivered sharp heat on impact and just enough thud to spread it and grab her attention.

  And her attention he was sure he’d have. It took time to cover both buttocks and upper thighs with ruddy patches of heat and pleasure. He was looking forward to it. And to everything else he’d be doing while he flicked the bat.

  He was aware of her unbuttoning the blouse and laying it aside on an occasional table. He stood up with the two-inch wide slapper in his hand and struck it against his thigh, seemingly unconsciously, as he considered the configuration of couch and pillows. The whap! made her jump. He didn’t look at her. “Now the bra.” He whapped his thigh a few more times, increasing the intensity and the sound level.

  He could barely feel it through his pants, but she couldn’t take her eyes from it, licking lips he was sure were dry from anxiety. He hadn’t planned to create this atmosphere until he realized how much she needed to be reminded that obedience included submission and submission meant she would take whatever he decided to give her. His choice of action and implement was the only will in force.

  He had also decided not to restrain her. He had plans for her at the next session to teach her a lesson about restraint. He would control her legs, however. He hadn’t brought a spreader bar, but in this case, improvising would work even better. More personally controlling her.

  Ben stuck the paddle into his back pocket, handle first and picked up the pillows, arranging them on the couch. She waited, silent and still.

  Satisfied with his handiwork, he strolled around her, now nude except for the black panties he’d given her to wear. He felt her repressing her desire to cover her breasts, so he stopped in front of her, examining them. He reached out to lift one in his fingers, sliding his thumb over her nipple which pebbled nicely. Her thighs pressed.

  “Legs apart,” he murmured, his free hand moving to her other breast. She whimpered very quietly and moved her feet apart a few inches. He froze, fingers on her nipples, and squeezed. Lasered her with a cold stare that demanded instant obedience.

  “Do as you’re told or I’ll stand here and work your nipples until you come so hard you collapse at my feet.” Her strangled moan went right to his cock, but he focused on keeping the hardening points of her breasts between his fingers as she moved, shuffling her feet apart, to shoulder width. Her hands fluttered around her, unsure where to land.

  “Be still,” he said as he let go of her and continued his stroll until he was directly behind her.

  Ben slid a hand into his pants and repositioned his erection, to stand front and center. He wanted her to feel it in her cleft when he pushed against her behind. Her hands were next to her thighs now, palms flat against her skin. He was sure she was looking at the bat on the table.

  He stepped into her, the whole front of his body against the back of hers, his erection nestled between her buttocks. His arms went around her, imprisoning her forearms. His hands back under her breasts, swollen and heavy.

  She gasped and pushed back against him, as if she could avoid the thumbs and index fingers that clamped over her erect nipples. He rocked his hips, his erection pushing her buttocks apart. His forearms against her upper arms kept her from pulling away him.

  His fingers rolled the hard buds slightly and she moaned and pushed back harder. He rubbed the pads of his fingers deliberately across the ends. She cried out and he closed his arms more tightly, locking her down, pulling and rolling, extending her. A thin whine caught in her throat.

  “Quiet. Pay attention.” He said, continuing his carnal assault. “Right now, all your focus is on your nipples, how they feel, what I’m doing, the pulses of pleasure rocketing through your body straight to your cunt, making you ache and your clit swell.” He stopped torturing her and slid his palms over her breasts and just held them, feeling the very hard, hot tips against the centers of his palms.

  “That’s how focused you’ll be on the cheeks of your ass when I’m spanking you. And it’s going to take some time to do it right. This can’t be hurried.”

  He felt her moan more than heard her. Was it arousal or fear? Or both?

  “To get the full benefit of a leisurely, layered, sexual spanking,” he continued, “You need to be comfortable for an extended period of time. That way you can relax. Concentrate. You see that half-moon shaped pillow on the couch?”

  She scanned and nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

  “When I release you, you’ll lie down with your head and upper chest on the pillow. The flat edge will be just above your breasts. Wrap your arms around the curved edge and make sure your whole face can be buried in the pillow if need be. Do not move the pillow. Adjust yourself to find the right position. Do you understand?”

  “I - yes, I think so, Sir,” she said.

  He could tell from her voice she was more focused on her instructions now, than her fear or her arousal. Good. He wanted to prepare her body for a sexual experience, but he wanted to start from a more neutral state. He was going to build her to an orgasm she’d never imagined she could have.

  “Your legs will hang off the edge of the couch. It will be awkward. Don’t fight it. Do you understand?” Her yes, sir was a barely audible whisper. He released her breasts and stepped back from her. “Go.”

  The pillow lay at a forty-five degree angle near the end of the couch where the back was lowered flat. She passed the coffee table, unable to keep herself from staring at the riding crop. You trust him.

  She repeated that in her mind as she bent over and lowered herself by her arms to embrace the large pillow. She wriggled around to get herself positioned as he’d instructed, completely aware that he was behind her, already erect, surely following every movement of her cheeks inside the black panties.

  When she felt she was correctly placed, she wrapped her arms around the curved edge of the cushion that was at least five inches thick. She was surprisingly comfortable, except for her right leg which did hang off the edge in a way that caused her to bend it at the knee and brace her foot on the floor. Her left leg extended beyond the seat at mid-thigh and so, stuck straight out, her toes meeting the curved edge of the coffee table.

  She lay quietly, trying to breathe normally, waiting for the paddle in his pocket or the leather end of the crop to strike her waiting backside. She clutched the cushion more tightly and buried her face in it. Why a paddle and a crop? Why not the broom thing he’d shown her? Had he decided she deserved punishment?

  Fear raced like acid through her bloodstream. Think. Breath. You trust him. It makes no sense, but you do.

  And he was there, standing at the end of the couch near her head. Watching her for a reaction, he unbuckled his wide leather belt. Fuck. He wouldn’t use the belt on her?

  “I want you to know how much pleasure you can derive from it.”

  No, he wouldn’t. And if he did, somehow, she’d like it. Avia told herself to stop scaring herself. She never felt safer than when she’d been in his hands. Even wielding that yardstick at his office, she’d felt his concern for her. She was suddenly calm and ready for whatever he would do.

  She looked up at him. He’d opened the button of his black cargo pants and pulled his t-shirt free. Then he stripped it off in one graceful move. She’d forgotten how beautiful she found him, with his discus thrower’s body, the solid
muscles of his chest and shoulders smoothed into hills and hollows she longed to drag her cheek across.

  He combed his fingers back through his hair, tousled by the neck of the shirt passing over. Fishing a small folding knife from his pants pocket, he proceeded to slit the t-shirt up the side seam and used his hands to tear a wide strip from the bottom. He kept the strip, leaving the rest on the floor. Dropping to one knee on the lowered sofa back, he used the t-shirt strip to blindfold her, tying the ends together behind her head.

  She felt his hands depress the cushion on either side of the pillow she clutched. Felt his breath near her ear and his energy engulf her.

  “One day, soon, I’ll require you to be silent and still while I spank you. But this time, I only have one order for you. Are you listening, Avia?” He asked.

  “Yes, Sir,” she breathed. Her body thrummed with anticipation.

  “Pay attention.” He whispered, his warm breath in her ear causing her nipples to tighten against the leather of the couch.

  And he was gone.

  Ben grabbed what was left of his black t-shirt and the small pocket knife and moved back to the coffee table, cutting the rest of the body of the shirt into a long, thin, spiral strip several feet long. He slipped the knife back into his pocket and quickly wound up the strip. He tucked it into the elastic waist of his briefs and threw the rest of the shirt over his shoulder.

  He removed his shoes and socks, and during all of this, he couldn’t take his eyes off Avia.

  His cock was already rock hard against his abdomen and he once again marveled at her effect on him. Of course, he always responded to the sight of a Companion splayed out and waiting for him.

  But there was a long way to go before he entered them, and while his cock thickened and stirred, it wasn’t this raging, twitching thing he was going to have to tame if he wanted to give her the artful, carefully administered spanking she deserved. The one that, by the time he brought her to the brink of orgasm, would have rendered her ass deep pink and have it quivering with her need to come.

  If there was anything Ben Hart was a master of, it was delivering the perfect spanking for whichever woman he had across his lap. And he wanted, needed, to be perfect for Avia. He couldn’t falter or hesitate. She trusted him. He’d seen it in her eyes and it humbled him. This was his opportunity to prove himself to her.

  He took a last long look at her, so delectably arranged before him, her long, elegant body already beginning to show a flush of arousal, her ass filling and stretching the thin black panties.

  Then, determinedly focused on his task, he moved the duffel and bat to a position on the couch within easy reach after he sat down. He took the paddle from his pocket and placed it next to them. From an outside pocket of the duffel, he took a few single use packets of lube and a rose-colored adjustable butt plug.

  He hadn’t decided yet to use it, it would depend on her response. But he suspected this deeply sensual woman would be yearning for him to slip it into her and open her, even if she had no idea that was what she yearned for. Her body would tell him.

  He briefly considered taking off his cargoes as he knew the process generated a lot of heat. But imagining her reaction to his mostly bare thigh under her, he rejected the idea. He didn’t want her anticipating him fucking her. He wanted her complete focus on every stroke he delivered to her cheeks and thighs.

  He bent over her, slid one hand under her ribcage and the other under her hips and easily lifted her body across his thighs in one long-practiced move. He heard her gasp at the ease and swiftness with which he changed her situation. He used his left hand to bend her lower legs up, out of his way and his right to pull the short end of the coffee table between his knees and laid the large round pillow on top.

  His body was angled in the same direction as Avia’s, his legs spread wide. His left leg supported her at the top of her pelvis, instead of directly under her butt. He lowered her legs so she felt her knees touch down on the pillow. His target area, her cheeks and upper thighs, suspended between his left thigh and the pillow.

  He ran his hands down and up the insides of her thighs, spreading her legs apart. She moaned, clutching the edge of the pillow. He leaned over and pulled her feet back again, and took the t-shirt from his shoulder.

  He put her feet through the arm holes, and took a turn around her ankles with the slack. Then, he pulled the long thin strip of fabric from his waistband and tied her feet securely over the layers of fabric that would pad and protect her, and lowered her legs to the pillow.

  With one hand he grasped the end of the strip of fabric he’d left dangling and pulled her bound feet toward her body. Her knee bent, her thighs spread. She uttered a high-pitched sound into the pillow. Feel it, Avia, he thought. Exposed. Vulnerable. Controlled.

  He tied the fabric cord in a quick release knot to the top of a coffee table leg. Running his hands over her body, he checked her position. That she felt solidly in place on his thigh. That her beautiful ass was in exactly the right position and at the right angle for him to deliver accurate strokes. That he had clear access to the insides of her thighs as well as the backs. That she was positioned slightly away from his body, not snugged up against him. Not yet. Further away and angled, he had much better intensity of stroke control.

  As his hands moved over her, skimming easily over the fabric of her tightly stretched panties, massaging, stroking, bringing the blood to the target areas, his cock raged and his balls seemed to swell to twice their size. He distracted himself with thoughts other than the feel of her firm round buttocks and silken inner thighs and her subtle movements responding to his hands.

  When Benedict Valor Hart decided on his course in life, on the very long journey back from Nepal, he determined to find better ways to do the things he longed to do with whatever partners he found. Ben liked to fix things. One of the things that needed fixing, for him, was the position in which women (or men for that matter) were spanked.

  The classic across the lap position, while it might feed a Principal and naughty student fantasy, required the spankee to lie across the thighs of the spanker who was usually seated in a chair. The spankee’s head and upper body, legs and feet, were the lowest parts, blood rushing away from the pelvis. Away from the pelvis, the very place where blood should be free-flowing, feeding the nerves that carried the signals of pleasure and pain.

  Some laid their submissive on a bed, which solved the head full of blood problem, but didn’t allow for close-up and personal lap spanking and made it difficult to control angle and intensity. Even if the Dominant got into the bed, back against the headboard and laid the sub across his lap, it was the Dom who was constrained, who couldn’t easily move around, change the sub’s position, alter their strike angle.

  Every position he’d investigated for a lengthy intimate spanking, defeated the very purpose of the activity, he decided. It was all wrong, from the angles of the bodies to the inability of the spankee to relax and focus, to the quick fatigue of the spanker, who needed concentration and control for the fifteen to twenty minutes a thorough, orgasm-inducing spanking required.

  You could punishment spank in almost any position, but for extreme pleasure, something new was required.

  He’d spent days with a sub on loan from a friendly Dom, who stayed to watch, as they tried different positions. Ben learned to listen to the sub, to her ideas and suggestions. Tracy was a sweet, gentle soul of nineteen and her thirty-year-old Dom was madly in love with her. But she was also bright and quick, and it was really Tracy who had invented the principles behind the recliner and the couch.

  It was she who convinced him to stud each piece with restraining loops of some kind and even design the restraints as part of the package. It was Tracy, in her naturally diffident way, who made him understand that the more options the user had for creative play, the more satisfying the sexual experience would be.

  Two years later, after obtaining a loan from his father and hiring his brother as Chief engineer, Ben H
art launched Hartlines.com, with two eBook authors, drop-shipping sex toys from other manufacturers. The "Living Room Sweet" was his centerpiece. He sent one to Tracy as a wedding present. She sent him a “selfie” of her evenly rosy ass and a smiley face as a thank you note.

  As Ben’s hands moved over Avia, his cock, while certainly not flaccid, had calmed and his sac relaxed. Avia was also relaxed. Her breathing even, as if she might be falling asleep, but she was only immersed in the feeling of his hands. He never touched her vulva, but her pussy was opened slightly, the moist pink nose of her clit just peeking out between the barely swollen folds. Her body thrummed with a long slow wave of subtle motion against his hands as they moved over her. Her skin warm and flushed. Sensitive.

  He kneaded her buttocks gently and she moaned softly with pleasure. Then he slid his hands over her cheeks letting his thumbs press gently against the silky fabric of her panties, into the furrow, coming within a breath of her anus. Her fingers clutched the pillow edge as his thumbs slid by. His hands cupped the globes of her ass where they met her thighs and lifted slightly as he moved back up, gently stretching the crease.

  Soon he would do this one side at a time with his left hand, his right bringing the paddle down in deft swipes across her sensitized bare bottom. And then again, just above, on the curves of her cheeks and up again and again over the fullest part. He’d take his time, alternating sides between strikes, running his fingers over her skin where the paddle connected.

  Then he’d start on her thighs. By the time he’d finished, her behind would be lifting toward him with the need to feel the paddle again. And he’d oblige her with a second layer, the strikes exactly the same, but she’d feel them more intensely, her nerve-endings awake. This is when she’d learn what it meant to pay attention. He didn’t intend to leave her any choice.

  But right now, as his thumbs slid against the insides of her cheeks through the fabric, her reaction assured him she would very much enjoy him opening her with the rose-colored plug. Yet, he decided against it. She was too responsive for it, this first time. She was very liable to come before he had fully prepared her for the most consuming orgasm possible.

 

‹ Prev