Grey
Page 69
Will she? Won’t she? This is it. Proof of whether she can do this or not. I watch her, impassive, waiting for her to decide. If she says no, it means she’s paying lip service to the idea of being my submissive.
And that will be it.
Make the right choice, Ana.
Her expression is grave, her eyes wide, and I think she’s weighing up her decision.
“I’m waiting,” I murmur. “I’m not a patient man.”
Taking a deep breath, she unfurls her legs and crawls toward me, and I hide my relief.
“Good girl. Now stand up.”
She does as she’s told, and I offer her my hand. She lays the condom on my palm, and I grasp her hand and abruptly pull her over my left knee, so that her head, shoulders, and chest are resting on the bed. I drape my right leg over her legs, holding her in place. I’ve wanted to do this since she asked me if I was gay. “Put your hands up on either side of your head,” I order and she complies immediately. “Why am I doing this, Anastasia?”
“Because I rolled my eyes at you,” she says in a hoarse whisper.
“Do you think that’s polite?”
“No.”
“Will you do it again?”
“No.”
“I will spank you each time you do it, do you understand?”
I’m going to savor this moment. It’s another first.
With great care—relishing the deed—I tug down her sweatpants. Her beautiful behind is naked and ready for me. As I place my hand on her backside, she tenses every muscle in her body…waiting. Her skin is soft to the touch and I sweep my palm across both cheeks, fondling each. She has a fine, fine ass. And I’m going to make it pink…like the champagne.
Lifting my palm, I smack her, hard, just above the junction of her thighs.
She gasps and tries to rise, but I hold her down with my other hand at the small of her back, and I soothe the area I’ve just hit with a slow, gentle caress.
She stays still.
Panting.
Anticipating.
Yes. I’m going to do that again.
I smack her once, twice, three times.
She grimaces at the pain, her eyes screwed shut. But she doesn’t ask me to stop even though she’s squirming beneath me.
“Keep still, or I’ll spank you for longer,” I warn.
I rub her sweet flesh and start again, taking turns: left cheek, right cheek, middle.
She cries out. But she doesn’t move her arms, and she still doesn’t ask me to stop.
“I’m just getting warmed up.” My voice is husky. I smack her again, and trace the pink handprint I’ve left on her skin. Her ass is pinking up nicely. It looks glorious.
I smack her once more.
And she cries out again.
“No one to hear you, baby, just me.”
I spank her over and over—the same pattern, left cheek, right cheek, middle—and she yelps each time. When I reach eighteen I stop. I’m breathless, my palm is stinging, and my cock is rigid.
“Enough,” I rasp, trying to catch my breath. “Well done, Anastasia. Now I’m going to fuck you.”
I stroke her pink behind gently, round and round, moving down. She’s wet.
And my body gets harder.
I insert two fingers into her vagina.
“Feel this. See how much your body likes this. You’re soaking, just for me.” I slide my fingers in and out, and she groans, her body curling around them with each push and her breathing accelerating.
I withdraw them.
I want her. Now.
“Next time, I will get you to count. Now, where’s that condom?” Grabbing it from beside her head, I ease her gently off my lap and onto the bed, facedown. Unzipping my fly, I don’t bother to remove my jeans, and I make short work of the foil packet, rolling the condom on quickly and efficiently. I lift her hips until she’s kneeling and her ass in all its rosy glory is poised in the air as I stand behind her.
“I’m going to take you now. You can come,” I growl, caressing her behind and grabbing my cock. With one swift thrust I’m inside her.
She moans as I move. In. Out. In. Out. I pound into her, watching my cock disappear beneath her pink backside.
Her mouth is open wide and she grunts and groans with each thrust, her cries getting higher and higher.
Come on, Ana.
She clenches around me and cries out as she comes, hard.
“Oh, Ana!” I follow her over the edge as I climax into her and lose all time and perspective.
I collapse at her side, pull her on top of me, and, wrapping my arms around her, I whisper into her hair, “Oh, baby, welcome to my world.”
Her weight anchors me, and she makes no attempt to touch my chest. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is returning to normal. I stroke her hair. It’s soft, a rich mahogany, shining in the glow of her bedside light. She smells of Ana and apples and sex. It’s heady. “Well done, baby.”
She’s not in tears. She did as she was asked. She’s faced every challenge I’ve thrown at her; she really is quite remarkable. I finger the thin strap of her cheap cotton camisole. “Is this what you sleep in?”
“Yes.” She sounds drowsy.
“You should be in silks and satins, you beautiful girl. I’ll take you shopping.”
“I like my sweats,” she argues.
Of course she does.
I kiss her hair. “We’ll see.”
Closing my eyes, I relax in our quiet moment, a strange contentment warming me, filling me up inside.
This feels right. Too right.
“I have to go,” I murmur, and kiss her forehead. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” she says, sounding a little subdued.
Gently I roll out from underneath her and get up. “Where’s your bathroom?” I ask, taking off the used condom and zipping up my jeans.
“Down the hall to the left.”
In the bathroom I discard the condoms in a trash bin and spy a bottle of baby oil on the shelf.
That’s what I need.
She’s dressed when I return, evading my gaze. Why so shy suddenly?
“I found some baby oil. Let me rub it into your behind.”
“No. I’ll be fine,” she says, examining her fingers, still avoiding eye contact.
“Anastasia,” I warn her.
Please just do as you’re told.
I sit down behind her and tug down her sweatpants. Squirting some baby oil on my hand, I rub it tenderly into her sore ass.
And that will be it.
Make the right choice, Ana.
Her expression is grave, her eyes wide, and I think she’s weighing up her decision.
“I’m waiting,” I murmur. “I’m not a patient man.”
Taking a deep breath, she unfurls her legs and crawls toward me, and I hide my relief.
“Good girl. Now stand up.”
She does as she’s told, and I offer her my hand. She lays the condom on my palm, and I grasp her hand and abruptly pull her over my left knee, so that her head, shoulders, and chest are resting on the bed. I drape my right leg over her legs, holding her in place. I’ve wanted to do this since she asked me if I was gay. “Put your hands up on either side of your head,” I order and she complies immediately. “Why am I doing this, Anastasia?”
“Because I rolled my eyes at you,” she says in a hoarse whisper.
“Do you think that’s polite?”
“No.”
“Will you do it again?”
“No.”
“I will spank you each time you do it, do you understand?”
I’m going to savor this moment. It’s another first.
With great care—relishing the deed—I tug down her sweatpants. Her beautiful behind is naked and ready for me. As I place my hand on her backside, she tenses every muscle in her body…waiting. Her skin is soft to the touch and I sweep my palm across both cheeks, fondling each. She has a fine, fine ass. And I’m going to make it pink…like the champagne.
Lifting my palm, I smack her, hard, just above the junction of her thighs.
She gasps and tries to rise, but I hold her down with my other hand at the small of her back, and I soothe the area I’ve just hit with a slow, gentle caress.
She stays still.
Panting.
Anticipating.
Yes. I’m going to do that again.
I smack her once, twice, three times.
She grimaces at the pain, her eyes screwed shut. But she doesn’t ask me to stop even though she’s squirming beneath me.
“Keep still, or I’ll spank you for longer,” I warn.
I rub her sweet flesh and start again, taking turns: left cheek, right cheek, middle.
She cries out. But she doesn’t move her arms, and she still doesn’t ask me to stop.
“I’m just getting warmed up.” My voice is husky. I smack her again, and trace the pink handprint I’ve left on her skin. Her ass is pinking up nicely. It looks glorious.
I smack her once more.
And she cries out again.
“No one to hear you, baby, just me.”
I spank her over and over—the same pattern, left cheek, right cheek, middle—and she yelps each time. When I reach eighteen I stop. I’m breathless, my palm is stinging, and my cock is rigid.
“Enough,” I rasp, trying to catch my breath. “Well done, Anastasia. Now I’m going to fuck you.”
I stroke her pink behind gently, round and round, moving down. She’s wet.
And my body gets harder.
I insert two fingers into her vagina.
“Feel this. See how much your body likes this. You’re soaking, just for me.” I slide my fingers in and out, and she groans, her body curling around them with each push and her breathing accelerating.
I withdraw them.
I want her. Now.
“Next time, I will get you to count. Now, where’s that condom?” Grabbing it from beside her head, I ease her gently off my lap and onto the bed, facedown. Unzipping my fly, I don’t bother to remove my jeans, and I make short work of the foil packet, rolling the condom on quickly and efficiently. I lift her hips until she’s kneeling and her ass in all its rosy glory is poised in the air as I stand behind her.
“I’m going to take you now. You can come,” I growl, caressing her behind and grabbing my cock. With one swift thrust I’m inside her.
She moans as I move. In. Out. In. Out. I pound into her, watching my cock disappear beneath her pink backside.
Her mouth is open wide and she grunts and groans with each thrust, her cries getting higher and higher.
Come on, Ana.
She clenches around me and cries out as she comes, hard.
“Oh, Ana!” I follow her over the edge as I climax into her and lose all time and perspective.
I collapse at her side, pull her on top of me, and, wrapping my arms around her, I whisper into her hair, “Oh, baby, welcome to my world.”
Her weight anchors me, and she makes no attempt to touch my chest. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is returning to normal. I stroke her hair. It’s soft, a rich mahogany, shining in the glow of her bedside light. She smells of Ana and apples and sex. It’s heady. “Well done, baby.”
She’s not in tears. She did as she was asked. She’s faced every challenge I’ve thrown at her; she really is quite remarkable. I finger the thin strap of her cheap cotton camisole. “Is this what you sleep in?”
“Yes.” She sounds drowsy.
“You should be in silks and satins, you beautiful girl. I’ll take you shopping.”
“I like my sweats,” she argues.
Of course she does.
I kiss her hair. “We’ll see.”
Closing my eyes, I relax in our quiet moment, a strange contentment warming me, filling me up inside.
This feels right. Too right.
“I have to go,” I murmur, and kiss her forehead. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” she says, sounding a little subdued.
Gently I roll out from underneath her and get up. “Where’s your bathroom?” I ask, taking off the used condom and zipping up my jeans.
“Down the hall to the left.”
In the bathroom I discard the condoms in a trash bin and spy a bottle of baby oil on the shelf.
That’s what I need.
She’s dressed when I return, evading my gaze. Why so shy suddenly?
“I found some baby oil. Let me rub it into your behind.”
“No. I’ll be fine,” she says, examining her fingers, still avoiding eye contact.
“Anastasia,” I warn her.
Please just do as you’re told.
I sit down behind her and tug down her sweatpants. Squirting some baby oil on my hand, I rub it tenderly into her sore ass.
