Seven Scarlet Tales

‘Really?’

‘Really. Turn around.’

I hesitated then presented him with my rear view. The dress was backless, plunging down to my coccyx in a way that drew attention to the tight, sparkly silk around my hips and bottom.

I gasped when Sands put his hand on the curve of my arse and moulded his palm to its shape.

‘Who could resist this?’ he said, and his voice was directly in my ear. ‘No straight man alive.’

The way he held his hand there was so possessive and so natural that I knew I had gone beyond turning back. A ripple had gone all the way through me, upwards, outwards, downwards, inwards. And most particularly, cuntwards.

I had been excited from the start, but now my wetness was undeniable. My nipples were protruding out from the midnight blue silk and my breath was short and laboured. My body was telling him to do it. Do whatever he wanted. My mind could not summon up the effort to argue with it.

‘Did you get hard?’ I asked him. ‘When you watched me?’

‘Of course I bloody did, you little minx.’ He pushed his body forwards into mine. He was hard now. I could feel the outline of his erection just under the cheeks of my arse. ‘I had to put my programme over my lap. It was fucking inconvenient. I know there are rumours about me, and people would have been watching for my reaction. And you knew that. And believe me, you’re going to pay for it.’

‘I know I’ve been bad,’ I said, shutting my eyes in rapture. ‘I know I’ve misbehaved.’

‘He gave it to you hard, didn’t he?’

Sands’ breath was hot in my ear, and his lips brushed the tender skin behind it, kissing then nipping.

‘Leo? Petruchio. Yes, yes, he did.’

‘How did it feel?’

‘Even with the petticoats, it stung. He left red marks on my bum. I looked at them in the dressing room afterwards.’

‘Mm, I bet you did. Did it turn you on?’

‘Yes. I rubbed them. Then I rubbed myself. Lower down.’

‘You dirty little bitch.’

‘Mmm.’ I pushed myself back against him, wriggling my hips.

He took off his jacket and threw it over a wooden painted cloud.

‘I think I’d better get the deed done before I end up bending you over and fucking you senseless, Ms Reddish, what do you think?’

‘Either way,’ I moaned, butting my head into the hollow of his neck.

‘That’ll do, Miss Sex Mad,’ he said primly with a preliminary smack to my bottom. ‘Now let’s determine the sentence. I want you to take off your dress and stand on that chair over there.’

‘Take off my dress?’

‘Yes,’ he said, so calmly that I started to do it immediately.

The tight-fitting silk with its non-existent back had meant I couldn’t wear a bra, so when I pushed the shoulder straps down my arms, my breasts were soon bared to his inspection. He didn’t flinch, just watched with avid greed.

‘Your nipples are hard,’ he said, folding his arms.

I didn’t really have an answer for that.

My beautiful sparkly sequins slid to the none-too-clean floor. I didn’t stop to consider my nakedness until I’d picked up the gown and folded it neatly on a table. But, that done, I could no longer ignore my sheer stockings, my tiny thong or my bare backside. All of them were on show to Peregrine Sands.

I climbed on to the chair and stood, feeling three times more exposed, on its seat.