Every time she remembered pulling down her panties and leaning over the desk as Roark loomed over her, she felt a pulsing ache between her thighs. Again she wondered if she was getting turned on by reliving the experience.
But that couldn’t be—could it?
Sammi had never been into any kind of kink. To be honest, she wasn’t much into regular sex either. Maybe it was because she’d never been with a man who really turned her on. Oh, she’d dated plenty of attractive men, but somehow none of them really got her motor running. And they all seemed to be the same in bed—boring.
They were all so predictable. They always did and said the same things—sometimes it made her wonder if they were all working from the same playbook. None of them ever surprised her.
Certainly none of them had made her feel hot and cold all over or made her feel achy and wet between her thighs for hours. Almost every sexual encounter she’d ever had, had one thing in common—they were all completely forgettable.
But there was no forgetting Roark.
Not that today at work had been sexual in any way, Sammi hastened to tell herself. But still…
Her hand stole back to stroke the sensitive skin of her ass again, tracing lightly over the ghost of a handprint that still lingered there. Roark hadn’t bruised her—it was just that her skin was so fair it showed any kind of mark left on it for hours.
Her eyes were drawn from the 3-D viewer to the dresser in her new bedroom. There was the little pot of pink ointment with the handwritten note attached to its lid.
Sammi stalked across the room and snatched it up. She read the note again.
For sensitive areas, the strong, masculine script advised. Sammi wondered when he had written it—she hadn’t seen him doing it. She also wondered if she ought to use it. It felt almost like capitulation or a form of submission to do so.
Like leaning over the desk and taking your spanking like a good little girl was submission? whispered a dark little voice in her head.
Sammi ignored the voice and unscrewed the lid. She brought the little pot to her nose and sniffed the contents. The pink ointment had a very mild, fresh fragrance. It was almost minty, but so faint she could barely smell it. Remembering what Roark had said about being able to smell both her body wash and the alcohol seeping from her pores, Sammi thought this must be a pretty strong fragrance to him.
Taking the little pot with her, she went back to the 3-D viewer and pulled up her nightgown again. It was a black lace nighty which contrasted with her pale skin, making it look even more creamy and showing up the ghostly handprints in bas-relief.
Experimentally, Sammi touched her fingertips to the ointment and rubbed it into one of the handprints. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but the sensation was cool and tingly at first, and then it became a soothing warmth.
“Oh…” Sammi whispered in surprise. It actually felt good.
She got some more of the pink ointment and rubbed it into the sore places where Roark had spanked her. As she did, the handprints began to fade and her entire ass began to feel warm and soothed.
There was plenty of ointment left in the pot and Sammi dipped her finger into it one more time before realizing she didn’t need it—she was completely healed.
She started to scrape the excess ointment back into the pot…but hesitated.
Still watching herself in the 3-D viewer, she lifted her nightgown—in the front this time—baring her neatly trimmed thatch of reddish-gold curls. Her outer pussy lips were pink and swollen, as though they, too, were crying out for attention—for something to ease her pain.
Not that she was in pain, exactly, Sammi told herself. But still…
Her hand hovered over her pussy uncertainly. Should she?
For sensitive areas. The note flashed in her mind’s eye and before she could stop herself, Sammi had spread her outer pussy lips with trembling fingers and was rubbing the dab of pink ointment into her inner folds.
The effect was immediate. She felt the same tingling coolness that changed to sensuous warmth but somehow the effect was magnified—maybe because this was a much more sensitive area than her ass.
“Ohhhh,” she half-moaned and her knees almost buckled as the tingling warmth enveloped her clit, making her even more sensitive.
Somehow she made it to the bed but now that she had started, she couldn’t seem to stop touching herself. Lying on her back, she spread her thighs wide and continued to stroke her pussy, using swift, light strokes around her tingling clit.
As she pleasured herself, an image began to form in her mind. Sammi saw herself bent over the desk again with Roark looming behind her. He had just finished spanking her and now he was demanding that she spread her thighs wider.