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Part II…The Spanking
It always amazed him that no matter how shapely a woman's behind, it's beauty was enhanced tenfold when draped over his thighs. It felt natural and uncontrollable to stoke and brush her bottom with the palm of his hand. He thought of forcing her thighs apart slightly, but decided against it. Her clenched thighs were her mask hiding her wetness. He would let her part them when she was ready.
She hadn't anticipated that he'd start out so briskly. Perhaps she thought a warming up period was in order. The first sting of his hand shook her. Each stroke seemed stronger than the last, but it wasn't. The sensation was caused by the increasing redness and blood flow in her bottom. By the time he reached ten strokes, palm prints painted her backside.
She'd kept still and silent mostly. Her desire to show her toughness impressed him. He massaged her redness before touching her swollen opening. Two fingers stroked her lips, and she cooed. Gently prying them apart, he discovered what he already knew. His cock strained against the zipper of his jeans, pressing against her belly. He thought he felt her squirm to touch it with her stomach, but he wasn't sure. "Enough of this childish pleasuring," he thought and continued the spanking.
At some point he lost track of the count. His hand swelled and matched the color of her bright pink bottom. He slowed his strokes, grabbing handfuls of flesh. The grabbing provided no physical relief, but the mingled throbbing of his hand and her behind excited him. She parted her legs, now barely fitting on his right thigh. He took the invitation and twisted his strokes, slapping her pussy and asshole. He held her shoulder blades tightly with his left arm, but she bucked wildly anyway. Sex permeated the room.
"Tell me what you want, Sara."
"I don't know what you mean," she whimpered.
"I'm tired of your games. I want to know what you're thinking at this moment. I want you to quit pretending that you're some high-class executive that needs to fit your next orgasm into your busy schedule. Tell me what you want!"
"I want to cum…" she whispered.
"Then ask...ask for what you want."
She paused, but he waited. "Please...Jeffrey...make me cum."
He paused longer, "I want you to cum, Sara, but I have a condition."
"Anything."
"If I do this for you, you belong to me. Know fully what that means and choose wisely."
Their silence was tense, but her answer unwavering, tough as she was, "Yes, Jeffrey. I understand. God I want to cum...pleeeaaasssee."
"As you wish, my love."
And he stroked her hood gently, tracing his fingertips along its edges, then along its length, brushing her swollen knob with each stroke. At first he was amazed and distracted by her wetness, then he reveled in it pressing deeply inside her with his thumb and brushing her clit with his fingertips. Bending at his waist, he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck. Then breathing lightly into her ear, he asked her to cum for him. Eventually, she did, with such force that he had to hold her tightly to keep her from falling.
Panting and baked with sweat, she gathered herself and climbed to straddle his thighs. With a hungry look, she pushed her hands against his shoulders until she toppled him onto the bed. She gripped her arms around his neck tightly and drove her tongue into his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her midsection and savored her taste. A simple kiss that turned seconds into minutes and then longer. He caressed her back and behind, soothing her pain with his aching hands. Their adventure had just begun.
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