Seven Scarlet Tales - Page 11

Ah, now he was asking. I wasn’t sure what the lesson was supposed to be. All I felt I’d really learned was that I enjoyed being whipped with a leather belt.

‘I should respect you,’ I decided upon.

He liked that a lot.

‘Yes,’ he said, a smile in his voice. ‘You certainly should. Has any other profound epiphany stricken you while you were being struck, as it were?’

‘Just that …’ I floundered for coherent speech. ‘I need this.’

‘You need it? You have a taste for it?’

‘Yes, yes. A taste. That was so different from the way Leo did it. You had so much more purpose. You weren’t afraid.’

‘You liked it, I can tell. It’s very obvious.’

In the air between my thighs, I felt a disturbance – his hand, so close to my lips, which I now understood were slick and juicy.

‘Touch me,’ I whispered.

His fingers were light and yet firm, somehow, stroking up and down the slit.

‘This is part of you, Ms Reddish. This need is in you and you can’t ever rid yourself of it.’

‘I know,’ I moaned, rocking back and forth to encourage his deeper touch.

‘But who will be there when you need to be soundly thrashed? Who is going to administer the medicine? I’m a busy man.’

He was: very busy. Especially his fingers.

‘I’m happy to oblige when our diaries allow, but I can’t always be on hand. With my hand.’

His aforementioned hand was doing sterling work. He rubbed my clit and filled my cunt with fingers that were still warm from their sharp contact with my bottom.

I was writhing like a serpent now, greedy for his masterful manipulations.

‘You need someone,’ he mused. ‘I think I know who, too. Are you close?’

‘Who-oo-oo?’ I wailed, so very near to that melting moment.

‘This young man I see watching us from the doorway,’ he said.

I was coming and yet I wasn’t coming, trying to stop myself, unable to stop myself. I jerked upright and yanked my head towards the doorway, my face a rictus of unwanted orgasm.

Leo stood there, looking, frankly, rather terrified.

I gabbled senselessly, still impaled on the elegant digits of Mr Peregrine Sands, notorious theatre critic of the Universal. Leo could see exactly where they were, and he could see me, kneeling on a chair with my bottom bright scarlet and swollen with welts, naked and ashamed.

Dear God, what a moment. I still masturbate over it now.

I hid my head in my arms and sobbed out the remnants of my climax.

Sands pulled out his fingers and smacked me smartly on the rump.

‘You can’t hide, you know,’ he said.

Presumably he then turned to Leo and addressed him.

‘Well, don’t just stand there, man. Come in. Your leading lady has a proposition for you.’

Tags: Justine Elyot Romance
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