All Souls' Night - Renee Rose Page 0,5

a good girl, Gwen,” he soothes. “You’re doing well.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

A pause. “Call me Sir.”

“Sir. I think—” I stop and bite my lip.

“Yes?”

“I think I’ve been good too long. I think tonight, I want to be bad.”

His hand rubs my bottom like he’s petting me. “My darling Gwen, that is music to my ears. Now, hush. No more talking, unless you need me to stop.”

And he draws me over his lap.

Dimitri

Gwen follows my lead perfectly, balancing over my knees. Her head hangs down, her dark hair tumbling loose from the ribbon’s hold and brushing the floor. I tug out the bow and tuck the ribbon into my pocket as I consider the buffet of delights before me. Her long legs stretch out and her dress rides up, leaving her thighs deliciously bare. That’s where I rest my hand.

“You want to be bad tonight.” I stroke her softly, enjoying the little tremors running through her.

“Yes, Sir.”

“If you want to be bad, you must suffer the consequences,” I say with mock severity. “Good girls gone bad must be punished.”

A flare of arousal in her scent. Perfect.

All around us, couples and triads engage in kinky actions of their own. The air is thick with the scent of sex and desire. But we’re in our own little bubble, just the two of us, entwined in a perfect dance of dominance and submission.

I clap my hand down on her bottom, over her dress. A few spanks to warm her up. Then I draw up her dress and hiss at the sight. She’s wearing a thong. White, of course. The thin string disappears between her cheeks, leaving the fleshy globes bare. I explore her thoroughly, my cock impossibly hard.

She clenches her cheeks, well aware of what I’m seeing. The thong’s gusset is now see-through from her juices.

“You naughty, naughty girl,” I purr. My hand claps down on her right bottom cheek, hard enough to leave a pink print. Gwen makes a soft sighing sound. I spank her left cheek. Must keep things even.

I pick up the pace and swat her bottom, giving equal attention to her left and right cheeks. Her sit spots darken to a rare pink and I switch it up, catching my palm on the bottom part of her buttocks, enjoying the way they bounce. I beat a tattoo on four quadrants of her derriere—high right, high left, low right, low left. Everything, even my breathing, falls into a rhythm. I enter that rare air of dom space where I’m aware of Gwen’s every move, every quiver, every trembling breath and muscle twitch.

I stop when the canvas of her skin is a nice light pink. She marks so nicely. I run my hand over her glowing ass, enjoying the heat.

“You like this?” I find the string between her cheeks and tug on it lightly. Gwen whimpers. It’s music to my ears. “You naughty thing, are you enjoying your spanking?”

“Yes…” she warbles. I smack her bottom harder, a sharp, stinging flurry. She wriggles on my lap, massaging my cock. Sparks burst behind my eyes.

“Be still,” I order, and she obeys. “Now, I asked you a question. Are you enjoying your spanking? Answer properly.”

“Yes, Sir.” She sounds appropriately meek and chastised. I brush a finger over the gusset. She’s soaked.

“I can tell.” I chuckle. “My sweet pet.” I add a second finger and stroke between her labia, teasing the wet folds. After a while, she can’t stay still anymore. I tsk and punish her for disobeying. I spank her bottom and the tops of her legs, pausing to check her soaking slit after a minute.

“Let’s try again.” I run two fingers up and down her labia. I can feel her holding her breath. “You’re doing so well. But you must hold still,” I explain patiently. The tip of my finger finds her clit and circles it. Her bottom clenches.

“No, no, no.” I return to smacking her bottom hard enough to make it bounce. I squeeze her cheeks, roughly. The pink color is darkening nicely. When I touch her between her legs, she groans, going limp over my lap.

Spanking, then rest, and stoke the submissive’s arousal. Round after round; I could do this all night.

I tap a finger against her panties, right where they stretch over her clit, then it happens. Gwen tenses, her inner thighs quaking. A low moan escapes her. I stroke the side of her clit with light come-hither movements. I imagine her orgasm spreading, white hot pleasure obliterating all thought. Her