Von Ritter paused to place his foot across her ankles, stopping the wild thrashing of her legs so that all she could do was concentrate on his hand and the heat it brought.
Again, he stopped and she drew breath. Did she dare hope that it might be over? Could she now lie still and enjoy the posterior warmth as it spread its glow across her bum and beyond?
No. He had stopped only to lower her knickers. She gasped at the unceremonious baring of her bottom, trying to picture what von Ritter saw—two reddened orbs, leading to her most intimate parts.
The thought was both shaming and delicious—she couldn’t decide which response predominated. Perhaps they were equal.
His palm on her bare skin made her sigh deeply, hoping upon hope for a little diversion down between her thighs. But he began to spank again, more lightly this time, as if in consideration of her nudity, little sparks of sensation that kept the light alive but didn’t add much pain to it. It felt astonishingly stimulating and erotic. Lydia would be happy for him to do this all night, she thought. But then he put more weight behind the smacks and she struggled again, trying hard to roll her hips so he would miss the target. He held her much too firmly for that, though.
Finally, as his speed picked up once more, she had had enough.
“Paganini,” she wailed.
He stopped then and there, and stroked her bottom.
“Very good for a beginner,” he said soothingly. “You can be proud of yourself. I couldn’t have gone on for much longer. This palm is stinging!”
Just imagine how my bum feels then, mister!
“Ouch,” she said sarcastically. “Poor palm.”
He laughed and dealt one final smack to her thighs.
“Cheeky,” he warned. “How was that?”
“It was, uh, I don’t know. I think I liked it.”
“You aren’t sure?”
“Well, it did hurt, you know. But now I feel so relaxed—really sort of glowy and spinny, as if I’ve just worked out or something.”
“Endorphins,” he said.
“That would account for it.”
“So you think you would do it again?”
“Yeah. Maybe not every day. But definitely, y’know
, when the mood struck.”
“Good. You should see your bottom. Come on.”
He led her over to the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door and turned her around. She looked over her shoulder and bit her lip at the sight. Her rounded cheeks wore a deep crimson blush. Here and there, patches of speckles stood out, the beginnings of light bruising.
“It’s funny,” said Lydia. “It didn’t feel that bad. It almost looks more painful than it really was.”
“You took it very well.” Von Ritter put his hand on her bottom and Lydia’s clit bloomed on seeing her reflection in the mirror. She looked so possessed by him, standing against his tall, upright frame with her bare, spanked bottom in his hand.
She cast a longing look at the bed. Could that be next?
“I’m curious to know,” he said into her ear, his hand stroking her bottom provocatively, “just how much you really enjoyed it. Open your legs a little wider for me, Lydia. Watch yourself in the mirror.”
Still looking over her shoulder, she saw von Ritter’s hand move lower, feeling it at the same time. When his fingers glided in between her pussy lips, she saw his knuckles working in the gap of her legs. He found her clit with easy assurance and began to rub at it.
“Oh, you really did enjoy it,” he said. She saw the satisfied smile curve his lips, then, his free hand still holding her across her bottom, he continued to finger her pussy with devilish deftness. “Can you see what I’m doing to you?”
She nodded. He looked so suave and unruffled, while she was a sweating, heaving, red-bottomed mess, squirming on his fingers. She felt very small and submissive—very owned. His hand on her bottom delved in between her cheeks and pressed a thumb against her anus, pushing with gentle pressure, increasing the sensation around her clit.