and just the right excuse, and just the right people to witness the event!
"Come here wench," Jack ordered her. His demand usually meant one thing. "Let me see you."
"But we just . . .. "
"Shush," he said firmly with a finger pressed to his lips.
She stood in front of him, and he made her turn around, and pull up her skirt so he could see the marks; though only faint lines remained where he'd struck her bottom an hour before.
"Put on some music," he said. "I want you to dance for me. I want you to pretend you have an audience around you, pretend there's someone in room that's going to see this bottom of yours blistered bright red."
Roslyn blushed. In her imagination she could feel what it might be like to have the audience she craved. She put a favorite seductive piece of music on the CD player, and returning to her place in front of Jack, she began to dance. Swaying her hips in front of him, she moved like an exotic dancer, jiggling her breasts in his face, and pushing her stretch pants down over her hips. She turned around in time to the music and bent over, thrusting out her bottom, churning it as his watchful eyes observed the unveiling of her naked bottom.
"You are really a slut Roslyn," he murmured. She could tell, even though she wasn't facing him, that his dick was rock hard, that it was standing at attention in his lap, with his hand jerking it madly. She churned her ass even more and felt his free hand slap her fanny hard, right over the place he'd just heartily paddled.
"You monster," she moaned, though she wasn't in any pain.
He continued slapping her even when she tried to rise. "Stay put," he ordered her. And she was forced to jiggle her behind seductively to the beat of his hand coming down on her butt in one stinging smack after another.
"Oh yes more," she purred. She wasn't complaining. The sharp stinging smack of his hand was not painful at all, just hot beating pleasure.
"Quite a time Roz, quite a time I'll have punishing this naughty little butt for gawking voyeurs." The slaps continued. "I like this fantasy," he murmured. The idea had him hot, so hot his stiff dick was about to cum.
Roslyn in her own erotic world could feel those other eyes staring at her, humiliating her, watching her bottom turn scarlet. Her cunt was throbbing, her juices sticking to the sides of her legs. She wished she could turn her head and see some strange stern face looking on, appreciating every cruel slap.
"Rub yourself," Jack ordered.
She couldn't wait; her hand was between her legs, playing with the juicy folds. She rose enough to steady herself, and at last turned around. By then Jack was more interested in getting off than spanking. She dropped between his legs and helped him out, taking his sweet tasting cum into her mouth and letting it dribble just a bit down her chin, just the way he loved it to.
"Lay over the footstool," he instructed her when he'd recouped enough to think of Roslyn's mounting orgasm.
She complied. On her hands and knees over the foot stool, she swayed her fanny seductively in the breeze as her hand deftly fingered her throbbing cunt, and Jack resumed his playful burning slaps.
She built to one peak and he stopped her. His hand was joyfully having its way, seeing to it that her bottom was as crimson as it had been earlier that day.
"Oh not so much," she moaned.
He didn't listen.
"Play with yourself," he ordered again. And her hand, wet with her succulent juices, resumed the masturbation, moving her headlong towards her peak.
She smashed into the orgasm. All at once it was there, and she jerked and writhed, and snapped back her head, forgetting where she was, poised precariously on the ottoman.
Jack came to her aid, guiding her back to her place; though she collapsed moments later, to lie across the plush fabric of the footstool. She was breathing heavily, and quivering softly as the last of the sensations had come and gone.
Jack rubbed her rear tenderly.
"It turned you on, didn't
"Come here wench," Jack ordered her. His demand usually meant one thing. "Let me see you."
"But we just . . .. "
"Shush," he said firmly with a finger pressed to his lips.
She stood in front of him, and he made her turn around, and pull up her skirt so he could see the marks; though only faint lines remained where he'd struck her bottom an hour before.
"Put on some music," he said. "I want you to dance for me. I want you to pretend you have an audience around you, pretend there's someone in room that's going to see this bottom of yours blistered bright red."
Roslyn blushed. In her imagination she could feel what it might be like to have the audience she craved. She put a favorite seductive piece of music on the CD player, and returning to her place in front of Jack, she began to dance. Swaying her hips in front of him, she moved like an exotic dancer, jiggling her breasts in his face, and pushing her stretch pants down over her hips. She turned around in time to the music and bent over, thrusting out her bottom, churning it as his watchful eyes observed the unveiling of her naked bottom.
"You are really a slut Roslyn," he murmured. She could tell, even though she wasn't facing him, that his dick was rock hard, that it was standing at attention in his lap, with his hand jerking it madly. She churned her ass even more and felt his free hand slap her fanny hard, right over the place he'd just heartily paddled.
"You monster," she moaned, though she wasn't in any pain.
He continued slapping her even when she tried to rise. "Stay put," he ordered her. And she was forced to jiggle her behind seductively to the beat of his hand coming down on her butt in one stinging smack after another.
"Oh yes more," she purred. She wasn't complaining. The sharp stinging smack of his hand was not painful at all, just hot beating pleasure.
"Quite a time Roz, quite a time I'll have punishing this naughty little butt for gawking voyeurs." The slaps continued. "I like this fantasy," he murmured. The idea had him hot, so hot his stiff dick was about to cum.
Roslyn in her own erotic world could feel those other eyes staring at her, humiliating her, watching her bottom turn scarlet. Her cunt was throbbing, her juices sticking to the sides of her legs. She wished she could turn her head and see some strange stern face looking on, appreciating every cruel slap.
"Rub yourself," Jack ordered.
She couldn't wait; her hand was between her legs, playing with the juicy folds. She rose enough to steady herself, and at last turned around. By then Jack was more interested in getting off than spanking. She dropped between his legs and helped him out, taking his sweet tasting cum into her mouth and letting it dribble just a bit down her chin, just the way he loved it to.
"Lay over the footstool," he instructed her when he'd recouped enough to think of Roslyn's mounting orgasm.
She complied. On her hands and knees over the foot stool, she swayed her fanny seductively in the breeze as her hand deftly fingered her throbbing cunt, and Jack resumed his playful burning slaps.
She built to one peak and he stopped her. His hand was joyfully having its way, seeing to it that her bottom was as crimson as it had been earlier that day.
"Oh not so much," she moaned.
He didn't listen.
"Play with yourself," he ordered again. And her hand, wet with her succulent juices, resumed the masturbation, moving her headlong towards her peak.
She smashed into the orgasm. All at once it was there, and she jerked and writhed, and snapped back her head, forgetting where she was, poised precariously on the ottoman.
Jack came to her aid, guiding her back to her place; though she collapsed moments later, to lie across the plush fabric of the footstool. She was breathing heavily, and quivering softly as the last of the sensations had come and gone.
Jack rubbed her rear tenderly.
"It turned you on, didn't
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