‘Bend over that,’ he said.
‘I’ll get soaked,’ I objected.
‘I don’t care.’
The funny thing was, neither did I; not really. Jasper did this to me. He made me care about nothing but his designs upon me.
I leaned forward. The branch was not so low that I could pivot at the waist, so I had to rest my breasts upon its rain-softened bark and push my bottom out.
‘Legs,’ he said, and I spread them obediently.
He stood between them, his hands gripping my thighs, and kissed me all over my neck and shoulders. In the course of this, he lifted my tiny skirt and ran his hands over my recently paddled bottom.
‘How’s that, hmm?’ he asked into my ear. ‘Still painful?’
‘A little, sir.’
‘It serves as a reminder,’ he said. ‘Teach you to behave. You were a good girl tonight. A very good girl. I’m going to show you how good.’
Through the rain and the leafy surroundings, I could see chinks of light from the houses bordering the square. I didn’t suppose we were visible from the windows, but all the same …
The voices of the smokers were still audible, though distant. A loud jazz band struck up, drowning them.
‘What if we’re caught?’ I whispered.
‘Nobody will give a fuck,’ said Jasper. ‘They’re artists. They don’t care about that kind of thing.’
‘I was thinking more of the press …’
‘There’s an unspoken rule. What goes on at a party stays at the party. Nobody would ever let them in otherwise.’
‘OK.’
I was reassured, which was just as well, with my bottom and pussy bare and Jasper undoing his button fly and nudging up against them.
He took hold of my hips and the next thing I knew was his thick cock pushing inside me. The angle was slightly awkward, but his hold on me set it to rights and he was fully sheathed before I could squeak at the suddenness of it.
‘There now,’ he said, with greedy relish. ‘Look at you, you little hussy, bent over a tree in the rain getting fucked from behind. That’s about your style, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Sore bum and all,’ he said, releasing one of my hips to smack it hard.
Thank goodness for blaring jazz.
‘Tell me you’re mine,’ he said.
‘I’m yours.’
‘That’s right.’
He had to hold my thighs at the front, bringing me up to my tiptoes, for the angle to work, but he made it right, made me hang on to the branch while he established a hard, punishing rhythm. I was his thing, his sex toy, with no other function than to lay myself open to him, and I fell gratefully into subspace, helped along by the way his pelvis slapped against my sore bottom.
He was able to move his fingers so that they pulled at the skin near my labia, stretching it wide open. My clit felt the wet breeze. I longed to rub it on something, even though the way Jasper massaged the skin around it sent powerful messages of pleasure through it. I needed a touch.
Jasper’s cock was rubbing against the sensitive spot inside me, though, in a way that almost made me forget my neglected clit. His angle shifted slightly and he took a deeper stroke, taking me firmly and assertively, never letting up the pace.
The branch creaked and my hair was sodden but none of that mattered.