He grabbed my wrist and held it against the small of my back, and I moved the other to join it.
“Should I tie you up?” he asked, both a threat and a real question.
I shook my head. “No, Sir. I’ll be good.”
“All right. I’ll trust you. But if you try again, I’ll have to bind you,” he growled, and I wondered if that had been his plan all along.
This time when he slapped my ass, it was so hard I slipped on his lap. I shouted in pain, and my back arched. Another landed, and another.
“I’ve missed this.” His voice was deep and hoarse as he rubbed his gloved hand over my burning skin. “How cherry red your ass gets. Marks or no marks tonight?”
“Marks, Sir.” It was swimsuit season, but I had a pair of board shorts I could wear to cover my butt by the pool. My tan line would be uneven, but it would be worth it for the other lines I’d get.
“Stand up,” he ordered. Once I was on my feet, he grabbed the back of my head and forced it down, bending me over the bed to push my cheek into the duvet. He peeled off his glove and held it in front of my face. “Again.”
I licked my lips, then kissed it.
“Good. Stay right there.”
He’d positioned me so I faced the toy cabinet, and he strode there with purpose, opening the top doors and clicking on the light. He ran his fingers over the row of butt plugs, going from smaller to larger, back to smaller, then swooping over to grab the largest one.
So, I knew what that meant.
He came back and stepped behind me. A bottle of lube landed on the bed beside me.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t always get that.
He chuckled, and his slippery fingers slid between my cheeks. “You were a very good girl.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I murmured, grinding my pelvis against the edge of the mattress as he inserted the tip of one finger and slowly massaged around the rim of my ass.
“Yellow?” I said. “I just wanted to remind you that it’s been a while.”
“Don’t worry, I remember. I’ll be careful,” he promised. “Unless you’d rather not?”
“No. I mean, no, I don’t want to rather not?” I laughed at my own clumsy words, from nerves more than anything. “I want you to fuck my ass, is what I’m saying. Sir.”
He resumed the stroking with his finger, growing bolder, sliding in and not quite all the way out. With another squirt of lube, he slipped in a second finger, and I inhaled noisily.
“Relax,” he growled. “If you can’t take this, you’ll be very sorry when I put my cock in.”
Oh, god. Usually, the pain and weird feeling from anal—and no matter how much preparation we did, it always hurt for at least a few minutes—gave me cold chills and goosebumps, but just talking about it had brought them out. I forced myself to relax, which should have been an oxymoron, but it worked. It didn’t take him much time at all to loosen me up with his fingers before I felt another cold squirt of lube between my cheeks.
The glass butt plug was the heaviest of our anal toys, and the weight not only forced me to clench tighter to keep it in, but it also exerted enough pressure near my opening that by the time Neil was ready to fuck my ass, I would be that much more loosened up. He was being gentle with me tonight, despite all the gruff talk; there had been times when he’d fucked me without anything more than a glob of spit to ease the way. The pain was incredible, but it was something better reserved for another time.
He pushed the plug against my still resistant aperture, and the cool glass opened me wider and wider. I gritted my teeth, because every inch seemed like it should have been the last. When the bulbous bottom of the internal piece slid in, I stifled a cry of pain in the covers.
He slapped my ass, hard. I squeezed around the slender neck of the plug, and the flared base uncomfortably pushed my cheeks apart.
“Stay there. I’ll be back.”
He left the room, probably to wash his hands. One thing he was fastidiously careful about was the transference of germs in anal play. When he returned, he was wiping his hands on a towel. He tossed it aside and stood looking at me, as though he were considering the next step.
“I’ll never get over how beautiful you look bent over, open and dripping for me.”
He was right; my pussy was slick, both from my arousal and the lube that had missed its mark and rolled down. Sir stood behind me and pressed his fingers to the opening of my cunt, barely dipping inside before sliding them down, over my clit.
“You like that, don’t you?” he asked, slowly stroking the broad tips of his fingers back and forth.