“Get into position.”
Amy shifts onto the bench. I leave her to settle while I select restraints, a small flogger, and a simple crop from my kit. My hands shake a little. It’s been too many years since we’ve played. I can’t wait to swat her sweet ass again. I place the impact tools where she can see them. I slowly run my hands up her arms and across her back, warming her slightly chilled skin. “Any soreness or injuries?”
“No, Sir.”
She’s relaxed into place, so I secure the first restraint around her wrist, then move to her other arm, securing it as well. Her chest rests on the padding, arms down and latched to the wood frame. Her knees are braced on the lower part of the bench. Hands and knees position, perfect for fucking her from behind, if that’s what we wanted.
I want it.
So fucking bad.
But not here, not tonight. It’s not what we agreed to.
I shift my attention to her ankles. The leather cuffs that will hold them in place look huge on her delicate bones. She’s so strong and capable that I forget how delicately she’s made. After locking her in, I step back to admire how perfect she looks, and my chest swells. She’s mine—at least for now—as if we were back in St. Louis. This club isn’t as fancy, but having Amy trust me with her submission again is everything I dreamed of. I run my hand up her calf to the inside of her thigh and flip her skirt up. My balls tighten. No panties.
I smack her pretty ass once. In her ear, I whisper, “Is this for me?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Are you my naughty girl?”
“Yes, Sir,” she pants.
I fucking love that answer. “I should spank you for taking off your panties without my permission.”
Her thighs clench. “You didn’t tell me I had to.”
A laugh threatens, but I force it down. God, I love her sass. It only makes me more eager to get started. “What color are you, Mia?”
She stiffens slightly.
Fuck. I’m so deep in the headspace of when we used to scene that her old club name came out automatically. I can’t afford to slip like that.
“Amy. Green.”
I smack her ass again, a bit harder. “How do you address me,Amy?”
“Sir.” Not quite the submissive tone from earlier.
My fault. I rub her sweet naked globes, not diving between them to check if she’s wet. Not allowed. Impact only.
I find the beat of the music and place increasingly intense swats over the entirety of her ass. Perfect placement is vital to avoid harming her. This isn’t only about pain.Smack.
I gift her the freedom from making decisions.Smack.
She gifts me submission, trusting me to take her where only I can.Smack.
Our connection pulses between us. Sharp. Intense. Sublime.
Her peach-shaped ass ripens to a beautiful reddish tone. She jerks on the bench when I get the tender spots at the top of her thighs. I rub her heated skin, savoring her every twitch and shudder. The way my handprints linger. “Color?”
She green lights me, and I retrieve the flogger, giving my reddened palm a break, though I instantly miss the sensation of her skin rippling beneath my fingers. If I keep my hands on her a minute longer, I’ll break the rules and finger that luscious pussy until she screams for real.
An ethereal quality overlays the heavy beat of the music. I use its flow to guide my arm, swinging in soft continuous circular strokes, letting the strands of the flogger graze her ass with their barely-there sting. By teasing her, I’m opening her to the next round of intensity. Her hips sway, and I realize I didn’t secure the belt around her middle, but I don’t want to stop. Her dance calls to me. I move to her music. The deeper we descend, the more connected I am to her every twitch. Breath. Bead of sweat. Every tear that falls. Every drop of cream that swells from between her intimate lips.
I lick mine as if I could taste her.
More, her body tells me.
