Later that evening we were lying in bed, noses in our respective books. I still couldn't work out if he'd been serious with his comment earlier about the moment being lost. I didn't want to pressure him, but I did want to know.
Eventually I plucked up my courage. "Unless I'm likely to be molested any time soon, I'm going to duck out for a smoke." (I don't smoke much, except at bedtime. D. doesn't smoke at all.)
"Go ahead," he replied, without looking up from his book. I swallowed my disappointment and pulled some warm clothes on to step outside. By the time I'd come back in, removed my warm layers, washed my face, brushed my teeth and come back upstairs, I was ready for sleep. I got undressed and slipped into bed beside D, who was still reading.
Before I could get comfortable he patted the bed by his hip. "Arse here," he said lightly. I looked at him. He was still avoiding my gaze, but there was a teasing warmth in his expression. He patted the bed again. "And face that way."
I was bewildered. I honestly hadn't expected this. My heart was drumming as I obeyed, kneeling where he indicated and stretching my arms out in front of me in the position I knew he liked. "A little further forward," he suggested, cupping my hips in his warm hands and shifting me forward a few inches.
I knelt, head lifted slightly but completely unable to see what he was doing. My arse was tilted back at a steep angle, back arched, hips pointed so that my bum was more or less in line with my feet. I felt crazily vulnerable. In this position the skin on my bottom felt stretched taut. I heard the tiny, soft sounds of the belt being drawn from the loops of his jeans, the wide, polished leather belt I'd noticed him wearing earlier, too new to have curled yet at the edges. I was breathing fast, shallowly. I could feel my pulse in my throat.
He took his time, making me wait. I could feel him toying with the belt and I kept involuntarily flinching in anticipation of the stroke. My head was spinning - it would be cold when it came, and I was so exposed, bottom lifted like that, pushed out for him ... I must have twitched and caught my breath half a dozen times before the whipping even started. I was whimpering with fear, my self-control completely undone.
The first stroke made me yelp, but it wasn't hard, not as hard as I'd feared. Hard enough to bite, soft enough that I kept my bottom raised for the next stroke, and the next. The belt lashed the tight curve of my arse again. The strokes were harder now, and taking them without a warm up was tough. I was moving and making little sounds in the back of my throat, my hair falling in my face, but I was staying in position, grabbing handfuls of duvet and biting my lip. Nothing else existed in that moment. The belt snapped down first on one cheek and then the other; hard enough to make me buck away so that the next stroke fell as I was flat on the bed, not so hard that I couldn't force myself to push my hips back up again for the next.
D. moved closer so his thigh was pressing into my hip, holding me around the waist and pinning me against his body. I was almost over his knee, but not quite; my weight was still on my hands and knees. My shoulders twisted as he dealt me several stinging strokes, and then I felt his hands running over my blazing flesh, soothing it. Then a succession of hard spanks, but now I was sobbing with pleasure rather than fear, and I arced back to meet his hand without even thinking about it.
I felt dizzy, as if I were in freefall. I was anchored to him by the touch of our bodies, his hands on me, but we hadn't yet looked into each other's eyes, or kissed. I felt the end of the belt drawn lightly across my skin, felt his fingers pulling my cheeks apart so the leather tip could explore between them. He alternated between hard spanks and caressing me more intimately until I didn't know which I wanted more.
Later he doubled the belt in one hand as I knelt before him, shortening the length so he could whip my breasts as I took him in my mouth. The little snapping strokes on my hardened nipples sent jolts of pain and pleasure quivering through my body; I moaned around his cock.
The belt was slipped around my neck, warm leather smooth against my throat. He gathered it behind my head in one hand and pulled gently, the pressure making my heart flutter as he kissed my mouth and my breasts. Hot penny feeling pressing against my trachea, sending a pulse throbbing to all the tips of my body. He kept the belt there as he moved behind me, holding onto the ends as if they were reins, keeping my breath shortened and my head lifted as he fucked me. The tightness around my throat was enough to make me melt with lust, but not enough to stop me screaming with pleasure.
I think, although I can't remember very clearly, that I laughed as we came together, with a bubbling mixture of delight, relief, release. D has always been good at surprising me. And, although the kinky boots and lacy dress lay abandoned at the foot of my bed, that had definitely been worth the wait.
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