She slid off the bar stool, her heart thumping, desperate to get to the bedroom for some much-needed relief. But he put his hand on her arm, checking her progress towards the staircase.
“Oh, no. No. We aren’t going upstairs yet. It’s a very fine evening. I thought we could take a walk in the park.”
“Karl-Heinz,” she pleaded, but he was not to be dissuaded.
Out again into the balmy air they stepped, Lydia fee
ling every swish of the fine cotton-jersey skirt against her skin. The park was busy with post-work strollers and students, tourists and lovers. Karl-Heinz put a hand on her bottom as they walked along the path, rubbing it through the thin fabric.
“This is a public place,” she hissed.
“I know,” he said, unfazed. “I’m not doing anything illegal. What?”
She thought she might burst into flames. Her clit was throbbing with need and her upper thighs were damp. Couldn’t they just go back to the hotel…?
He patted her bottom and led her away from the path until he found a tree with a trunk of sufficient width to conceal them from the majority of passers-by.
He pinned her to the trunk and began kissing her passionately. As his tongue foraged in her mouth, he lifted her skirt until her bare bum pressed against the bark. Forgetting now her earlier worries about this being a public place, she prayed for him to push his fingers inside her soaked slit, but he wouldn’t. Instead, she tried to grind herself against him, lifting a leg to open herself up, rubbing her calf against his perfectly pressed trousers.
“Mmm,” he said, breaking off. “You need it badly, don’t you?”
Lydia wondered how he could sound so calm when she was so ruffled.
“Can we go to the hotel now? Please?”
“Just a moment. Turn around.”
She faced the tree trunk while he held up her skirt and inspected her bottom, running his fingers around the bark grooves that patterned her flesh.
“You are showing the whole park your bare bum,” he said, giving each cheek a light smack. “Bad girl.”
“Nobody can see, can they?” she asked anxiously.
“No, no,” he reassured her, lowering the skirt and pulling her back towards the path. “At least, I don’t think they did.”
Back in the hotel room at last, von Ritter prolonged Lydia’s agony by making her play a number of violin exercises, naked, in the centre of the room while he sat in the armchair watching.
“Yes, that’s good,” he said when she had finished. “But not perfect. Come and bend over the end of the bed, please.”
How many more hoops would she have to jump through before she got her orgasm? It was a slightly grumpy Lydia who presented her upthrust bottom to her conductor.
“You were good, so I’ll only give you six,” he decreed, retrieving the riding crop from the wardrobe. “But they will hurt. Count them.”
The leather end of the crop slapped down with a tremendous crack. He had hardly had to put any effort into the stroke, and yet it lit Lydia’s bottom up with fiery effectiveness.
“Ouch! One,” she said.
He laid each stroke with consummate skill, never hitting the same area twice, so that by the sixth her entire bottom felt as if it had been covered. The strokes were heavy and burned deep into her flesh. She put her hands behind her to feel the heat. It was a satisfying glow. But her pussy still throbbed, longing for attention.
“Okay,” said von Ritter softly. “I have made you wait long enough. Do you want to come now?”
“Oh, yes—please, Sir,” she blurted. She wanted his cock, thick and long, moving back and forth inside her.
But he didn’t even take off his jacket.
Instead, he made her lie on the bed on her back with her legs spread in the air, displaying her red bottom and her swollen clit while he took a vibrator from the bedside drawer then knelt on the bed beside her.
“You will stay in that position,” he commanded. She held on to the backs of her knees and waited while he tested the batteries and the speed settings.