On My Knees

Page 89

He slides the thong’s thin strip of material aside, then slips his fingers into my cunt before stroking my perineum. He teases my ass, and I bite my lower lip. The sensation is incredible, and when he presses against me, I feel my muscles clench, then relax as he gently slides a finger inside me.
“Oh yes,” he says, as I gasp from the unexpected pleasure of this new invasion. “You belong to me. But I’m yours, too. Wholly and completely.”
He is sliding his finger deeper inside, and his words, so sensual and soft, are in direct contrast to this deeply prurient touch. He orders me to stay still as he continues to tease my rear as my body adjusts. And, yes, as I crave more.
Too soon, he slides out, and I whimper. “The lady liked that,” Jackson says, still standing behind me. “One day, we’ll try more than a finger.”
The promise excites me, and when he lightly smacks my bottom, the impact sets off a chain reaction inside me. I shiver as electric sparks seem to spread out from my clit, like a tiny preview of a massive orgasm to come.
“Don’t move,” he says, and then leaves the room. I immediately mourn the loss of contact, and it is all I can do not to beg him to return.
I hear him moving in the suite. Drawers opening. Things rattling. Is he in the kitchen?
Then I hear his footsteps as he returns, and I start to turn my head to look at him, but am stilled by his sharp, quick, “no.”
I stop, then move only long enough to face forward.
Soon enough, he is behind me again. He rests a possessive hand on my back, and I am surprised by how much this calms me. As if the world is simply not right without the brush of Jackson’s skin against my own.
“I spanked you once and used my hand, and loved the way the sweet sting lingered on my palm. But this isn’t entirely about me, and I’m wondering if you might enjoy something just a bit different.”
Oh. He is stroking me now with something slightly rough. Not leather. Not metal.
Wood, perhaps?
I’m not sure, and when he lifts it from my ass, then smacks it lightly down again, any potential for further analysis goes right out of my head. There is just this sensation—a light sting, and not nearly enough.
“Do you want more?”
“Yes.”
The word bursts out of me far too fast, and Jackson chuckles. “As you wish.”
He repeats the smack, this time harder, so that my ass burns with a deep red pain that thrums and throbs with each additional spank. Between each blow he rubs me, and that sensation—a gentle touch over tender skin—is both soothing and arousing, as if each sweet touch sends the deeper pain further inside. It builds and builds, until there is no longer any pain at all, but a floating kind of pleasure that spreads out from my ass to bathe my entire body, sensitizing me and making me wild and hungry for more.
“Are you sore?”
“Yes,” I whisper, as he slips his hand between my legs and strokes me slowly, teasing my clit before slipping two fingers inside me. I am still wearing the thong, and the sensation of the material rubbing against me as he enters me is one more piece to this puzzle of wild sensuality. One more thing that is pushing me toward the edge.
“Do you like it?”
I hesitate, my eyes closed. “God, yes.”
He doesn’t reply, but rewards me with another spank, but as this one lands, he thrusts his fingers in deeper. I gasp at the unexpected sensation and at the hard and fast way my cunt tightens, clenching around his fingers as if in a silent demand to be fucked—and fucked hard.
He does it again and again and again, and I am so wet that I am dripping, so desperate to be fucked I am almost crying. The pain from the spanking has transformed completely. It is pleasure and need and demand, and when Jackson takes my hips and yanks me toward him so that I slide along the bed, it is all I can do not to burst into tears of joy.
Behind me, I hear Jackson strip. He is out of his clothes in a heartbeat, and inside me just as fast. Soon he is thrusting hard, and with each slap of his pelvis against my red and sensitive ass, another wave of pain-like pleasure crashes over me. It is all so much, and I feel like I am spinning from the cacophony of sensations that are assaulting me. I need an anchor, and as always Jackson knows what I need, and even as he pistons hard against me, he slides his hand around my body until his fingers find my clit.
He strokes and teases me, building me up higher and higher until I can’t take it any longer and all this pleasure and pain and wild writhing ribbons of electricity come together in an explosion so violent and wild that I am certain I will not survive.