BDSM Snogging from "Never Too Late"

Some people think that BDSM is about abuse and humiliation. I beg to differ. For me there's nothing as romantic as having giving over total control to someone you trust. It might be someone you've known for a long time, but then, it just might be the stranger you've been waiting for, to set you free...

Never Too Late is available as part of my short story collection, Just a Spanking. 

When you recover from this excerpt (;^)  - click on over to Blisse Kiss central and savor more sexy Sunday kisses!

 

He lounges in a chair by the window. The drapes are open. The lights of the Inner Harbor sparkle on the other side of the glass. The room is dim and I'm briefly grateful. Perhaps he will not notice my flaws.

"Good evening, Elizabeth." He doesn't rise. He makes me come to him. I stand before him, eyes cast down, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl. Sweat pools under my arms, spoiling my best silk blouse. Moisture gathers in my pussy.

"Um―I don't even know your name," I stutter.

"Yes, you do. Think."

I recreate my memory of him, from that fateful moment when I stepped into the lift and found it occupied. Tall,a bit overweight, but distinguished in his tailored charcoal suit. Black hair, dark eyes, brows that arched in appreciation as he surveyed me. I struggle to recall his badge. Even before he had spoken, I'd been flustered and aroused. Distracted. "Mark?" I say finally, a half guess.

"Good girl. You see, you know more about me than you think you do. You know you can trust me, don't you?"

"What?" Before I understand what's happening, he's looming over me, taking possession of my mouth, rolling my rigid nipples between his finger and thumb and kindling sparks. He tastes of the after-dinner mints they offer in the hotel coffee shop. His hands explore my body, weighing my breasts, groping my ass. Helpless, beyond rationality, I melt again.

"You know instinctively," he murmurs in my ear. "I'm the master you've dreamed of." He nips the tender flesh of the lobe hard enough to make me cry out. "I'm the one who will make you beg for mercy and scream with pleasure."

"No," I say. "I haven't. I can't. I'm married." My pro forma protests are weak, even to my own ears. He is already tearing the clothing from me. The first time his fingers graze my bare skin, electricity sizzles along the surface, down to my cunt. I moan, pressing against his still-clothed body. He chuckles and steps away.

"Turn around. Let me look at you. Especially at that fat ass." My face burns with embarrassment as I follow his instructions. It never occurs to me to object. I feel his eyes on the butt that I can't seem to shrink no matter how many hours I spend on the Stairmaster.

"Lovely," he says and I glow with pride. He is pleased. That's all I seem to need. He strokes my ample backside. When he moves away again, I nearly cry from the loss.

"I want you across my lap. I want to turn that pale flesh of yours a nice, rosy pink."

I obey. I can't believe that I'm doing it, but I stretch myself along his thighs. The fine wool of his slacks is distended at the groin. I rub my damp bush against the hard mass of his erection, the emotional pleasure almost trumping the physical. He wants me. That's all that really matters.

"Be still, slut!" He slaps my ass cheek with terrible force. The pain is a shock. He brings his palm down again on the other side, even harder. I whimper and try not to move.

He rains blows down on my tender flesh. Sometimes he lands a stinging smack at the back of my plump thighs. Sometimes he catches me across the crevice between my cheeks. The pain builds and builds until tears blur my vision, but still he spanks me, again and again, with the same ferocity he showed me in the elevator.

My ass feels as though it's bleeding and raw, yet still he beats me. His strength and stamina appear to have no limits. Floating in a red sea of pain, I sense his jubilation. As much as he has me in thrall, I'm also giving him what he needs. I know somehow he would stop if I told him to do so. I can't bring myself to that point. I don't want to disappoint him.

When he finally does stop, I hardly notice. I've grown accustomed to the sharp sting and the deeper ache from earlier strokes. It's all I've ever known, all I want to know.

He brings his mouth to my battered ass, licking and kissing his way from the base of my spine to the delicate crease where my butt joins my thighs. After the agonizing spanking, it's too delicious for words. He parts my cheeks and circles the knot of my anus with his agile tongue. I shiver and arch up, begging for more.

"Well done, my slut. You've earned a reward."