to find this woman?
Emma ducked her head, hiding her face behind a veil of hair. “No, sir,” she muttered, her sass instantly heating his blood. “This was your idea, if you recall. You insisted I show you—"
"You're insubordinate!” he barked. He grabbed her arm and helped her stand. “Bedroom. Now.” He gave her a gentle push, then smacked her curvy ass.
EMMA YELPED AND darted down the hall as fast as her high heels would allow. God, she enjoyed this—the sex, the game, the spanking to come—all of it. Her senses vibrated with acute awareness; she felt more alive than she'd ever had in her thirty-three years. The air smelled fresher, colors seemed brighter, every whisper of sound played like a symphony.
Dan was the conductor and a cunnilingus virtuoso; he'd made her come in no time flat. Of course, he'd primed her perfectly—like dry kindling, all it took was a lit match for her to go up in flames. If the spanking was anywhere close to as good as the way he'd eaten her pussy, she was in for a real treat.
Upon reaching Dan's bedroom, she faltered, momentarily unsure. Should she crawl into bed? Or wait beside it? No worries, she thought. Dan would tell her.
"Remove your bra,” he said upon entering the bedroom. He gestured with the paddle. “Leave your shoes and stockings on."
Emma twisted her arms behind her back and unhooked her bra, then let it drop to the floor. Her breasts had essentially been bare, but without the armor of her bra, she felt a frisson of vulnerability. He still wore his jeans, but the open fly framed his hard-on. At full salute, his shaft was as hard as stone, its mushroom head oozing fluid. Her lips tingled from sucking that monster. His cock reminded her of a policeman's baton; a man could take charge with a nightstick like that. Suddenly, playing “yes sir, no sir” seemed a little less like a game and more like the real deal.
She eyed the muscles rippling across his chest and abdomen and bunching in his sinewy arms. His body shouted strength and power, and her feminine one responded, her pussy dampening, her stomach fluttering.
He gripped the paddle as if he planned to use it right then. “Tell me, how many swats did you earn for your naughtiness?"
She knew exactly how many, except for the ones he'd refused to spell out. “I-I don't know, sir,” she fibbed. “I've forgotten."
"That would be sixty."
"It was forty!” She corrected him with a snap of her head. “Sir!"
"So you did know. You lied.” Dan smacked the paddle against his palm. “Sixty it shall be.” He paused. “Plus the others."
Emma gulped. Could she withstand it? Her quivering pussy thought she could, but she wasn't sure. She couldn't recall how many strikes she'd gotten with the hairbrush, but didn't think it had been that many. Then again, the delicious burn had faded all too fast. Maybe this time the afterglow would last longer so she'd have a keepsake for later. “Thank you, sir,” she responded.
Dan stripped off his jeans with an easy motion and kicked them aside. The sight of his cock jutting out of his Levi's was sexy, but it paled compared to the sight of him totally naked, his body appearing even more endowed, more masculine, more dangerous to her libido and self-control.
He sat on the edge of the bed, posture erect, his cock at full staff. “Get over here."
Emma couldn't take her eyes off his hard-on. Holy fuck, he looked huge. No, he was huge, her aching jaw attested. When she moved beside him and reached for his erection, he stopped her with a shake of his head.
"Lie across my lap."
Emma wiggled into position, using the opportunity to bump and grind against him. His harshly drawn breath filled her with triumph, and she made a great show of trying to get comfortable until he growled a warning. Emma ceased teasing then; she desired the spanking, but sixty swats seemed like a lot. She'd better not push him too far, or he might give her more than she'd bargained for.
He curled one hand
Emma ducked her head, hiding her face behind a veil of hair. “No, sir,” she muttered, her sass instantly heating his blood. “This was your idea, if you recall. You insisted I show you—"
"You're insubordinate!” he barked. He grabbed her arm and helped her stand. “Bedroom. Now.” He gave her a gentle push, then smacked her curvy ass.
EMMA YELPED AND darted down the hall as fast as her high heels would allow. God, she enjoyed this—the sex, the game, the spanking to come—all of it. Her senses vibrated with acute awareness; she felt more alive than she'd ever had in her thirty-three years. The air smelled fresher, colors seemed brighter, every whisper of sound played like a symphony.
Dan was the conductor and a cunnilingus virtuoso; he'd made her come in no time flat. Of course, he'd primed her perfectly—like dry kindling, all it took was a lit match for her to go up in flames. If the spanking was anywhere close to as good as the way he'd eaten her pussy, she was in for a real treat.
Upon reaching Dan's bedroom, she faltered, momentarily unsure. Should she crawl into bed? Or wait beside it? No worries, she thought. Dan would tell her.
"Remove your bra,” he said upon entering the bedroom. He gestured with the paddle. “Leave your shoes and stockings on."
Emma twisted her arms behind her back and unhooked her bra, then let it drop to the floor. Her breasts had essentially been bare, but without the armor of her bra, she felt a frisson of vulnerability. He still wore his jeans, but the open fly framed his hard-on. At full salute, his shaft was as hard as stone, its mushroom head oozing fluid. Her lips tingled from sucking that monster. His cock reminded her of a policeman's baton; a man could take charge with a nightstick like that. Suddenly, playing “yes sir, no sir” seemed a little less like a game and more like the real deal.
She eyed the muscles rippling across his chest and abdomen and bunching in his sinewy arms. His body shouted strength and power, and her feminine one responded, her pussy dampening, her stomach fluttering.
He gripped the paddle as if he planned to use it right then. “Tell me, how many swats did you earn for your naughtiness?"
She knew exactly how many, except for the ones he'd refused to spell out. “I-I don't know, sir,” she fibbed. “I've forgotten."
"That would be sixty."
"It was forty!” She corrected him with a snap of her head. “Sir!"
"So you did know. You lied.” Dan smacked the paddle against his palm. “Sixty it shall be.” He paused. “Plus the others."
Emma gulped. Could she withstand it? Her quivering pussy thought she could, but she wasn't sure. She couldn't recall how many strikes she'd gotten with the hairbrush, but didn't think it had been that many. Then again, the delicious burn had faded all too fast. Maybe this time the afterglow would last longer so she'd have a keepsake for later. “Thank you, sir,” she responded.
Dan stripped off his jeans with an easy motion and kicked them aside. The sight of his cock jutting out of his Levi's was sexy, but it paled compared to the sight of him totally naked, his body appearing even more endowed, more masculine, more dangerous to her libido and self-control.
He sat on the edge of the bed, posture erect, his cock at full staff. “Get over here."
Emma couldn't take her eyes off his hard-on. Holy fuck, he looked huge. No, he was huge, her aching jaw attested. When she moved beside him and reached for his erection, he stopped her with a shake of his head.
"Lie across my lap."
Emma wiggled into position, using the opportunity to bump and grind against him. His harshly drawn breath filled her with triumph, and she made a great show of trying to get comfortable until he growled a warning. Emma ceased teasing then; she desired the spanking, but sixty swats seemed like a lot. She'd better not push him too far, or he might give her more than she'd bargained for.
He curled one hand
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