Meeting Her Match - Page 6

The heat on my bum didn’t seem to last particularly long. It was already fading as I watched him take his sweet time unbuckling his wicked-looking black leather belt and removing it from his trouser loops. My skin was still pleasantly tight and a little sore, though.

When Stuart looped the belt around his fist and began whipping it down into his palm, I began to consider the wisdom of my actions. The very sound of it was fearsome, the sight of it knicker-wettingly sexy, but was it all window-dressing, softening me up for a pain I might not be capable of bearing?

While I didn’t want Stuart to be disappointed, the wobbling of my legs betrayed me. I was really scared.

Stuart put a hand on the small of my back, stilling me.

‘Hey, little girl,’ he said softly. ‘Nobody is going to make you do this. If you want to stop, or try something else instead, that’s your prerogative.’

His words steeled me. My calves tautened and I pushed out my bum. This might be beyond my endurance, but I wouldn’t know unless I tried, would I? And all I had to do to make it stop was call Stuart’s name.

‘You will stop if I ask you, won’t you?’

‘Of course. Just say the word. Brave girl.’

He patted my back and then stepped behind me.

I felt the leather dangle over my behind, brushing its crimson blush, slipping smoothly between my cheeks and stroking downward. I welcomed its cool caress, lulled by it, even though it added to my torment of unsatiated lust.

Then it was gone. There was a moment of tense silence, then a whoosh, then a crisp, sharp crack across the width of my still-warm arse. I jolted forward, my face finding a cushion to howl into, my fingernails tearing at the upholstery.

‘Oh, ow!’

‘Painful, eh? So it should be. Ten of these, young lady, should teach you a lesson in good conduct. Push your bottom back out, please.’

I took a moment to recover, then did as I was told, enjoying the spreading afterburn of the first stroke far too much to deny myself the rest of the leathering.

He laid each stroke with deadly accuracy, below its predecessor, moving down my bottom until it was evenly striped, then placing the final four on exactly the same spot – the meeting of arse and thigh, just where I would feel it when I sat down.

I pouted, I snivelled, I hopped up and down on my tiptoes, I pressed the cushion to my face and howled for the last two searing scorchers, but I was never once tempted to cry out his name and end it all.

The tenth stroke delivered, I lay panting and triumphant, buzzing with endorphins and seething with lust. I had been soundly and thoroughly dealt with, and it felt a lot like falling in love.

Stuart put his hand on the small of my back again, then pressed his other palm into my burning, ridged backside.

‘You took that so well,’ he said thickly. ‘God, your arse is on fire, girl. Spread your thighs wider.’

I obeyed, while he took the cushion I had been drooling into and replaced it beneath my hips so that my bottom was even higher up and my feet left the floor. He used his thumbs to open my sex lips and crouched behind me, breathing on them before giving them one long luscious lick, all around my needy clit.

‘So you want me to fuck you?’ he asked gruffly. I heard him pat at his suit jacket before throwing it off, then his trousers came down.

‘Please, sir,’ I whimpered.

‘Just as well. Because a good seeing-to is what you’re getting.’

I heard the snap of the condom, smelled its latex tang, then Stuart’s hands were on my hips, holding me still. Ah, there it was. The tip of his cock, butting my soaked cunt, stretching it until he was all the way in.

The warmth and tightness of my arse, rubbed against by his pelvis, added a delicious dimension to the feeling of fullness and I pushed myself back, squeezing my muscles around his cock, holding it there for one long second of inescapable penetration.

Then he uttered some strangulated sound and he was off, pumping and thrusting while I clutched the sofa cushion and yelped into it. I hoped the downstairs neighbours would not be disturbed by the jolting of the sofa on the wooden floor, but then he placed a thumb on my clit. I forgot all about the neighbours, concentrating only on getting my bottom higher and my cunt wider and my clit square on the pad of his thumb tip. I was in a boiling mess of shame and submission, lust and vulnerability. I was getting a proper hard fucking from the man who had just lit up my arse like the lanterns on the Promenade. It was heaven, hell, and everything in between. His weight pushed me forward, guiding his cock unerringly to my G-spot. I came, sobbing and thanking him in a frenzy over the knock-knock-knock of the sofa. He parted the cheeks of my bum and pressed a finger down into the crack before coming himself. I squealed at the rudeness of it, thrashing a little, but incapable of moving much underneath his solid bulk.

We slumped forward, on to the sofa, where he rearranged me into his half-clothed arms and stroked my damp forehead.

‘There. Was that what you wanted? What you expected?’

‘It was incredible. Blew my mind.’

r /> He laughed. ‘Good. That’s what I was aiming for.’

Tags: Justine Elyot Erotic
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