Standing, hand working industriously between her legs, she was a stunning sight. Her head was thrown back, raven hair spilling around her shoulders in a glossy cloud. Her free hand was caressing her tits, squeezing and pulling on the nipples till they looked ready to explode. Her moans were continuous. Her legs trembled.
He shook his head in wonder. Such a wanton one he'd found, so eternally ready, so easily heated up. So completely disinclined to care about public censure or exposure. So eager to fulfill his desires, just at the snap of his fingers and the caress of his voice. Oh yes -- he owned her, body and soul. She was at his command.
"That's it, baby," he growled, his voice a grating rumble. "Play with that cunt. Sink those fingers in. I want those moans and screams. Want you to cum all over, squirt those pussy juices all over your hand, spray everywhere. Cum for me, baby. You know you want to."
Her eyes snapped open. Her gaze caught and held him, full of devilish delight. "Oh, I don't think I'm that easy today, darling," she purred. "I think you should make me."
Eyes open wide at her temerity, he realized she'd backed off her furious tempo to a slow teasing dancing stroke. Apparently she was in need of some corrective instruction.
The whip's strike was a blurring whistle. It cracked across her ass, once, twice, a third time. So rapid that she had barely had time to shriek in shock from the first one before two more welts had appeared, drawn in sharp parallel, as neatly as if with a ruler. She squealed louder, and her hand between her legs began working furiously again. Her hips bucked forward, twice. He noted the new hard rhythm with approval, massaging the throbbing at his groin with a slow careful hand.
Again the lash cracked, this time looping stripes of red over her shoulders, the reverse of a white tan line from a day spent in the sun. She shrieked again, but this time there were words to be heard: "God, yes!" she howled. "I'm so fucking disobedient. I'm a bad girl. Make me cum! Make me cum, you bastard! Fucking make me!"
And the lash hissed toward her again, snapping and popping, tip stopping each time just short of her sweating, straining face. She jerked backward despite herself, almost losing her balance, but never stopping that hard furious rhythm on her clit. Abruptly she stiffened all over, as if she'd had ice water dumped over her. He was surprised at how quietly she came when she got this worked up, but it was always a sight to see: the tiniest of movements of her fingers on her clit, the rest of her body wracked by unbearable muscle-cramping tension, only the gushing spray from her pussy betraying her.
Eventually she subsided. He stroked her sweat-damp hair back from her brow and bent to kiss the shoulder stripes he'd left. "Good girl," he said softly. "Now lie back and spread your legs. We're not done yet."
Time spun out while he waited for her to obey. She stretched, then a slow motion -- was she actually shaking her head? Yes. Yes, she was. "Make me," she purred, looking up at him from underneath lowered lashes.
The Group Post is organized and hosted by Kimberly, the Errant Wife. Thanks to her for putting this together! See who else participated on this "Make Me" theme:
Spring Flower: http://agirlsgottahaveoptions.blogspot.com/
Ms Scarlett: http://msscarlettletter.blogspot.com
Yours truly: http://insatiabear.blogspot.com/
Adulterous Letch: http://a6y.blogspot.com
The Duchess: http://theduchessissexy.blogspot.com
And, as always, our hostess Kimberly: