Winter

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Babes

Intricate patterns of frost melted away under my hands firmly pressed against the window of my third story flat, and I watched them turning to drops and rivulets in silence while he unlaced the corset that bound my waist and breasts. Every now and then a warm finger would tease its way under the laced edge of my chemise, making the nerves under my skin flare with excitement.

My hands began to slip down the window, and he gently but insistently placed them back at shoulder height, all the while nibbling at the thin, flushing skin at the curve where my neck becomes my shoulder. I had been standing here for nearly half an hour in silence upon his command after he had removed my dress, and I could feel the muscles in my arms begin to ache with weariness. But I dare not move, dare not displease him. No, I had learned my lesson too well earlier in the day, and my tender flesh bore the evidence of his chastisement.

The thought of that lesson earlier in the day made my legs tremble: his hands had caressed and pinched my voluptuous thighs, leading me to falsely believe that I would get away with my disobedience. I had explained, stutteringly, that I had simply misunderstood, and that had I known what he’d expected I would have willingly — nay, eagerly! — complied. He merely repeated his demand that I lift my skirts and petticoats, pull down my bloomers, and bend over his knees to take the discipline of his hands in silence. So when he had begun with the pinches, I let escape a little laugh of nervous relief. I felt his body go tense with his sigh, and immediately felt the sting of his disappointment squarely across both my ass cheeks in quick succession.

I had let out an involuntary yelp, but then bit my lip in an effort to control myself as he slapped my bottom so rapidly and with increasing fervor that I knew his hand had to be stinging when he stopped. There was such a prickling rush of warmth that settled into a steady pulsing. I could feel the blush spread up my spine as his hand slid over and across the contours of my naked thighs, but this time I kept silent.

The respite didn’t last more than a few seconds before he was striking me again, but that time with the flat back of my own tortoiseshell hairbrush. Each sharp blow had echoed in the bedchamber and rushed back at me, the sound increasing my anguish as my thighs grew hotter. I wanted so much to cry out, to beg him to stop, to tell him I’d learned my lesson…but at the same time I found an unexpected fire kindling between my legs. Small beads of sweat had gathered in the curve at the small of my back, and I unconsciously flinched away from his ministrations.

He had paused only long enough to grasp my hips in both his strong hands and seat me squarely across his lap before he applied the brush again. I was so distraught that I barely registered the rigid bulge pressing balgat escort into the front of my thighs and the soft abrasion of his wool trousers on my tender flesh. Each ass cheek and thigh received several quick and hard blows before I caught myself moaning with the effort to stay put, my slit growing increasingly slick with excitement, my hips beginning to push up and back into each stroke of the brush.

He had paused, and I had barely registered his murmured question until he brought me back to him with one sharp slap by the palm of his hand.

“Have you learned your lesson?” he asked, sternly.

“Y-yes, sir,” I managed, riding waves of stinging pain and incredible longing.

“And what have you learned, my beauty?” he purred.

“That I should never doubt or question you, sir,” I had replied breathlessly, feeling my nipples grow even harder at the sudden rush of electric energy that flowed through me, numbing the pain of my backside.

He had slid me off his lap and I had stayed there, facedown on the bed, awaiting his instructions. His lips, usually so welcomingly warm on my skin in these winter months, now burned hot on my skin as they soothed the rising welts on my thighs.

“Mmm…” he had murmured as his tongue and lips moved across each fresh, delicate mark. “I think this is a lesson well-learned.”

My back had instinctively arched, pressing the voluptuous flesh of my thighs and ass cheeks into his face. His fingers slipped so smoothly inside me while he kissed my welts that even he gave a little gasp of surprise at how wet I was. He began stroking that glorious spot deep inside, faster and faster until I was ready to cry out — and just as quickly he had stopped, leaving me in a state of unfulfilled agony.

“And that, my dear, is your punishment,” he had said.

Now here I waited at the window, uncertain of what he had in store for me. When he had brought me here after dinner, he had silenced my questions with delicious and fervent kisses that tasted of brandy, only to deprive me of that dessert by suddenly stepping back and asking me to remove my dress. I hesitated, but seeing the warning flicker in his eyes I knew I shouldn’t tempt fate. While I undressed he stoked the little fire by the bed, and then he drew the curtains back to look down at the street. I noticed the grin playing around the corners of his mouth as he commented on how surprising it was that there were so many people out this evening despite the cold weather.

Inviting me to join him at the window, he began stroking the skin on the back of my neck followed by little kisses in the same place. While his lips moved over my shoulders and neck, he deftly removed my petticoat and knickers leaving me in nothing but my corset and thin linen chemise. At that point he had placed my hands on the window batıkent escort and told me to wait.

I was shocked when I heard him leave the room. And for the next half hour I had struggled to stay where I was, desperately wanting to turn and go see where he’d gone but not wanting him to suddenly return and find me disobedient.

I was exposed to passersby on the busy street below, and I stood there hoping that the thin frost was enough to keep anyone from seeing everything he had put on display. The little fire in the room was barely enough to keep the cold at bay in my state of undress. I wondered how many gentlemen in their carriages below were blinking at me in disbelief as they ventured glances upward when the traffic slowed. I fought the urge to cover myself as I imagined that he was down there looking up at me, just to see if I were doing what I was told. Trepidation mingled with delight as I recalled the bulge in his trousers under me earlier, and then pictured him standing under the streetlamp across the way displaying that same evidence of desire as he regarded me with approval.

My thoughts were interrupted as he returned almost as quietly as he’d left. I heard the rustle of movement as he removed his coat and waistcoat. When he moved behind me, I could smell the crisp scent of winter air about him, confirming what I had imagined — that he had been outside, most likely watching me. I was filled with such a mix of relief and contentment knowing that I had not disappointed him.

Now as he finished removing my corset, I let my thoughts go quiet as his hands moved insistently under my chemise, pulling me hard against him. Even through his trousers I could feel the heat of his arousal. His hands glided across my belly and found their purchase, grasping and squeezing the fullness of my breasts, making my breath come faster. His lips clamped on my shoulder, followed by little nips of his front teeth, and I whimpered, pushing harder against him.

He reached up to pull the straps of my chemise off my shoulders and pulled the neckline down so that my breasts were fully exposed, cupped by the curve of the fabric. He pushed me against the window, the sudden shock of cold glass making my nipples go rigid.

I only had a moment to consider what could be seen from below before he pulled my hips back just enough to slip one hand over the curve of my hip and straight between my thighs. As his fingers began working in and out of that silky slickness I felt my knees buckle.

His other hand moved to find purchase around my slender neck, my jaw settling perfectly into the curve of his fingers and thumb. He didn’t apply pressure, but merely let me rest there, gently supporting me.

As my breathing came faster and I began to moan and rock my hips into his hand, he slowed, almost stopping.

“What ankara escort do you think they see?” His voice was low and husky, his breath warm on my ear, his hand at my neck nudging my head downward so that I could see the street below us.

One finger teased the crease at the top of my thighs. “Do you think they see your soft and creamy skin, all flushed with pleasure?” The same finger worked its way back inside me. “Do you think they see how wet and ready you are? How eagerly you respond to my touch?”

His hand at my neck began to tighten ever so slightly. “Do you think they mistakenly think that you are in danger, that I don’t take exquisite care of you?” Both his hands moved to my breasts, pinching and pulling down hard on my reddened nipples, hard enough to make me whimper. “Do you think they see how much pleasure you receive from a little bit of pain?”

I should have encouraged him with a simple ‘yes’ to all his musings, but the only thing that I could utter was a series of moans. His hand slid back up to my neck, this time caressing the spot where my pulse throbbed before closing around me again. I could feel his other hand working to free his cock from his trousers, and soon felt the heat of it tantalizing the aching wetness between my thighs.

He kissed the back of my neck so gently as he moved to my other ear, where he nibbled at my earlobe before asking his final question. “Tell me,” he began, his voice tense with the desire he was holding back, “what do you think they see?”

As he eased his rigid shaft deep inside me and began stroking my clit with his other hand, the answer came almost as quickly as the orgasm that he let me indulge in this time. My muscles spasmed all around him, showering him with an abundance of my juices as his thrusts came harder and harder, making my ass cheeks sting with every impact of his skin against mine.

He freed his hand from between my thighs and slid it around to one hip, digging his fingers into my willing flesh. I could barely breathe or swallow, and I needed to answer him. He must have felt the desperation in my throat because he suddenly let go of my neck and covered one of my hands on the window.

“They see–” I gasped, resting my burning cheek against the frigid window.

“Yes,” he said, straining with lust, “tell me what they see.”

“They see that I am utterly and completely yours, Sir.”

He released a loud moan in a spasm of ecstasy, filling me with wave after wave of heat, making me cry out in climax again. Without needing to be told, as soon as he had withdrawn I turned and knelt in front of him. My lips and tongue tenderly cleaned every last drop of precious cum from him, and I couldn’t help but hum with delight at the taste of us mingled on his skin.

When I had finished my ministrations, he stroked my hair back from my face so I could look up at him. The light and love in his countenance were mirrored back in mine as he murmured, “That’s my good girl.” A glow of pleasure and contentment like none I had ever known surrounded me in that moment, and that feeling was better than any orgasm he ever gave me.

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