Friday's Scream Queen
4 hours ago
"And you thought this was a bad idea," I said smugly.
His smile lost some of its confidence, but he only said, "Just call me dumb-ass."
"Dumb-ass. Now speaking of asses, get yours over here, so I can smack it."
... I brought my fingers to his stomach instead, trailing them reverently along his lusciously defined abs, down the long, lean line of his hips and around to his ass. I gave one taut cheek a swat. His breath drew in sharply and his stomach muscles tightened reflexively.
"You have a great ass." His voice was back to rough, raspy as he reverted to caveman. Jerking me over onto my hands and knees, he stroked his rough palm across my butt cheeks. "I owe you a swat."
"You wouldn't dare," I gasped, even as I waggled my butt and panted for that very thing.
"I would." He lifted his hand away. "And you'd love it."
I didn't bother to respond, just tightened my cheeks and waited to feel his swat. Waited while my sex throbbed, then leaked juices down my thighs in expectation of his touch.
It never came.
"What the hell are you doing, Jack?"
"Making you come," he said, sounding equally smug and amused.
"It's not working."
"Sure it is.... Is your ass not tingling to feel my hand against it? Is your clit not on fire for release?"
Okay, so maybe it was working.
Two thieves grabbed an 82-year-old woman's purse as she and a companion were walking along the street. Her 89-year-old friend used her cane to dent the hood of the robbers' car before they could drive away. Police later found the car with the cane marks and based on a description given by the victims, arrested the culprits.
For the first time ever, England has hosted the European Canne de Combat Championships. Young people from around the world perform acrobatic exercises involving combat with canes. "Some of them can jump in the air and pass the cane between their legs, catch the cane in their other hand and strike you... Then they'll drop down into a full split and spring up and hit you again before you even know what's going on."
Becky stood there, breath shuddering, adrenalin flowing for three uncomprehending seconds until he said, "Bend over."
And the conflagration started again, her mind racing ahead of her actions, picturing how she'd look to him, her hands braced on her bed, her rear thrust back in a purely submissive pose...
Subtle pressure bent her over. She caught her weight on her hands, feeling awkward and vulnerable and as turned on as she'd ever been...
"I've been thinking about this since morning."
It was a struggle to find her voice. "What exactly is 'this'?"
His shadow fell over her as he stood, making her vividly aware of his size, the need to dominate he'd always kept in check for her. The need she'd asked him to let loose. His hands on the waistband of her sweatpants were cold. She jumped. Her pants and underwear followed the shiver as it snaked down to her toes. "Your ass."
Which told her nothing and suggested everything.
The snap of his fingers against her right cheek had her jumping again. "Push back."
Another tiny slap, this one so soft it seemed to absorb the sting of the other. In the aftermath, his palm lingered. "You liked that?"
There was no way she could deny it, even if every liberated bone in her body demanded that she do so. Those betraying goosebumps were at it again, telegraphing her delight.
She braced her arms on the bed, pushing back further. It wasn't enough. She wanted more... She wanted him to claim her in a totally primitive way that went far deeper than any woman would consider politically correct... She wiggled her hips. A smart sting on her right cheek halted the movement. "Stay still and take it."
Oh God! She bit her lip as the sting melded with the heat burning her from the inside out, feeding it. How had he known? In her dreams he had said things like that to her, did things like that to her, but she'd never told him, never written it down. How had he known this part of her fantasy she'd never dared to confess?
"Come for me."
Low, deep and intent, the order didn't leave her any choice. On the next slap she did, bucking and arching her hips for more of whatever he wanted to give her, open to the pleasure, the pain or a combination of the two. Just open...
"Take off your clothes," he instructed quietly. "And then climb into bed and close your eyes."
The pop of a ball hitting a raquet punctuated by a loud 'gnnuh!' has become a familiar sound at professional tennis matches.
The pop of a paddle hitting a bottom punctuated by a loud 'gnnuh!' has become a familiar sound at professional spanking matches.
Female tennis players are spoiling the game with their loud grunts.
What worried her, however, considering just how much Uncle Elliott owed, and what she finally asked Lonny, was "Do you really think anyone will pay that much?"
"Oh, yes," he replied with complete confidence. "These rich nabobs have nothing else to spend their money on. Horses, women and gambling are their major pursuits. I'm happy to supply two out of three, and any other vice they have a desire for, short of murder."
He chuckled. "Dearie, you would be surprised what some of these lords - and ladies - request. Why, I've got one countess who comes her at least twice a month and pays me to supply her with a different lord each time who will whip her - carefully, of course - and treat her like a lowly slave."
"They say any fetish or fantasy can be found here, no matter how bizarre one's particular tastes run. And I believe it now, having seen Lord Ashford's driver outside. Would be afraid a girl here would hand me some chains the minute I walk in her room."
He looked cruel. That was the single word that kept coming to mind. She wasn't sure why. The slant of his thin lips, perhaps? The narrowed, cold gleam in his light blue eyes as he watched her squirm beneath his gaze? The chill that had run down her spine when she first caught his eye on her?
"We had a run-in with him not so long ago one night when we were down by the waterfront. Found him severely whipping a tavern wench he'd tied to a bed...to prepare himself to have sex with her. If she hadn't worked the gag out of her mouth, we never would have heard her screams."
"She was in too much pain that night to even talk coherently, but when I went back to find her a week later, when she was beginning to mend, she flatly refused to point a legal finger at him...he'd paid her handsomely up front, more money than she could have made in two or three years doing what she does... She admitted she knew what he was going to do and had agreed."
Kelsey was staring in mesmerized horror at that narrow bed out in the middle of the room; the bed had leather straps with thick buckles attached to its four corners. Her fear got the better of her, seeing those straps. She'd have no hope left if they were put on her, and she didn't doubt by then that was exactly what Ashford intended.
"The time has come for your punishment, my pretty. You can't escape... You will be punished even more for this foolishness, I promise you. I will be better for you if you reveal yourself now."
She'd delayed him only a little while when she had run from him. But he'd wanted her to do that. It was part of his overall entertainment. Since this delay was only for his own comfort, he could actually be back in a matter of minutes.
John was still there. He'd been told to finish putting on her restraints and he did just that, rolling her to the side so he could untie her hands, twisting her actually farther than her muscles wanted to allow. And he kept her in that position while he strapped the leather around one wrist, because it kept her other arm from interfering, still trapped under and behind her as it was.
He left the room when he was finished, but he didn't go far. She could hear him working the lock on one of the other rooms...
John came back... Across her stomach he laid three whips of different designs and lengths - and a knife. Ashford's tools. The ones he was going to use on her. She'd lifted her head to stare at them, couldn't take her eyes off them.
(When John left) Kelsey heaved her back off the bed the second the door closed, to knock the whips and the knife onto the floor.
...she had merely delayed her punishment. She was frantic to continue putting it off. Not that she expected some miracle to occur to stop it altogether...
He looked down for his whips and tsked when he couldn't find them right off. He had to bend down to lift the material of her dress to find one of them, but he stood back up with it in his hand. It was short-handled, with many long, thin strips of leather dangling from it. He rubbed the handle against his cheek fondly...
He laid the whip across her bare legs so he could remove his coat. Her legs wouldn't bend enough to dislodge it. And just the feel of that leather on her bare skin started her trembling...
She sucked in her breath sharply. He'd picked up the whip and slashed it across her thighs. Welts rose in several places, but the skin hadn't broken. And he laid the whip back on her to finish undressing himself.
"Can't say I'd have the fortitude to leave a spanking-new mistress to hie off to a gathering that doesn't promise to be any different from any other gathering that we've attended."
When she went downstairs, she found Lord Derek waiting in the foyer, rather than Jeremy, and he was slapping a pair of gloves against his thighs in an impatient manner.
"Here now, none of that. Can't be giving the servants the wrong idea."
He laughed and swatted her on the backside before sauntering down the hall...