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Gemma grinned, her eyes dopey and half-open. “Sure, no problem, can do that in my sleep. You’re easy.”
The spanking he gave her for being flippant was what she wanted. On her mental list of options, being spanked hard with a paddle was invigorating, liberating, and perversely relaxing. The smack of the leather against flesh and her humbled shrieks filled the room, as blow after blow rhythmically landed on her taut skin. Already dripping with leakage, she added more to the mess and felt it trickle down her thigh, showing him her pleasure at being spanked.
“Such a hussy,” said Jason, fingering her slit. “No more for this, though. You’ve had your fill.”
Gemma whimpered in frustration. Twisting her body around, she gazed at her naked husband. A statue of fine musculature, smooth skin still bronze from the cruise, and sun-bleached golden hair, tousled about his face. His blue eyes glimmered in the light, in the same way her own green ones did when she caught her reflection in a mirror. Both of them blessed with a richness of colour, although Jason’s pierced far beyond her own.
He stabbed her with those eyes as she licked about her lips, reminding him she was ready to service him. Tossing her light-brown hair about, she jutted her bottom out, an act of enticement that goaded him into spanking her more, accompanied by words of admonishment at her slutty behaviour.
Gemma delivered all that he required: spread legs, pussy on display with glistening swollen sex—bare and unadulterated by hairs—bottom raised, fingers clenched about the table edge, and her moans, ones of genuine discomfort and reckless abandonment. On and on, he landed the paddle, switching from one cheek to other, landing on her sit-spot with accuracy, occasionally stopping to rub down her cheeks, caressing away the pain with his long fingers and warm palm.
“I’m not stopping yet,” he added. “You need this so much, babe.”
Unable to contain the growing pain, she allowed tears to creep into her eyes. Then it happened, a switch had been flicked. She flopped onto the table, resting her cheek on the cool surface, and absorbed the pain. It was as if a painkiller had been injected into her bloodstream, neutralising all the stings and thuds. However, Jason did not interpret her change in stance as a signal to increase the severity, quite the contrary: he ended the spanking. She was far too gone in her own world to realise the danger. Vulnerability had been the goal, but keeping her safe had to remain the priority.
He led her to the chaise lounge and lay down. She used her greedy mouth to please his hardness, and it wasn’t as easy as she’d thought. For some reason, he carried on spanking her as she worked her mouth about him, flicking her sore buttocks with the tip of a crop. Tiny bites inflicted sparingly, as if he had found flies on her butt to swat.
“Oh, baby, don’t ever say something is easy. No teeth. I felt teeth,” he warned as he slapped the crop down on her upturned bottom.
She spluttered with indignant giggles. “You’re super hard, just as I like you.”
“I. What’s your I got to do with it. Just as I like it. That’s what counts.” He chuckled.
On the way home, he told her she had been exceptionally willing that evening in the club. Daring in her scene with Monique and brave when he turned her back purple with wax. She snuggled up against him in the back of the car, struggling to stay awake, his warmth pervasive. He patted her and kissed her hair.
“You’re the best,” he murmured, yawning.
The following week, she would be very willing in New York. The place lent itself to being submissive: it was her customary role whenever they stayed at the luxury apartment.
***
The flight to New York, two days after their visit to the club, heralded the start of what Gemma hoped to be a successful business trip for her boss. Daniel had been gobsmacked when she’d told him of Jason’s suggestion. She had traded the flight on the private jet for an extra day’s leave to enable her to visit art galleries. Daniel had taken the bait.
His face, when they boarded the plane, had been a picture of stunned gratitude. The service provided by their personal flight attendant, the wide leather seats that tilted back into mini beds, and the pilot who addressed Jason as if he was the only passenger aboard—all impressed Daniel.
She slept for a couple of hours, her limbs leadened with fatigue. Daniel, she was sure, would milk Jason for information about how to conduct the negotiations with the potential buyer of his much-beloved company. By the time she emerged from the sleeping cabin two hours later, the conversation had been very productive for Daniel, sitting there with his notepad brimming with useful tidbits of information.
The journey took them into the night, UK time, however, they arrived early evening, New York time. It gave her the chance to have a good night’s sleep before being driven up to Connecticut at the crack of dawn for the morning’s meeting.
She had decided, during the flight, she would offer herself to Jason that night and show her gratitude. With Daniel deposited at his hotel, Gemma curled up in the back of the limousine, resting her head on Jason’s lap, and waited to arrive at the penthouse accommodation. Pristine, modern, and cavernous in its open-plan layout—she’d not forgotten the impressive apartment and the effect it had on Jason’s dominance whenever they visited, raising it to levels she had in the past struggled to tolerate. She loved the glass wall with its view of the streets below.
Standing staring at the vista, he snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her backwards onto his chest.
“There was a time when the idea of being fucked in front of this window would have freaked you out,” he reminded her.
Gemma reached out and tapped the pane. “Privacy glass. You didn’t tell me until after you fucked me.”
He covered her hand with his, pressing it against the cold surface. “Let’s try it again.”
A few minutes later, stripped naked, she spread her fingers across the glass, and he shifted her hips back. Sucking air into her lungs, she jolted as he thrust into her pussy. He slipped out then entered her with another forceful penetration. Her toes curled on the marble flooring. With her breasts flattened against the glass, she glided up the window, speared on his thrusting cock. A grunt, then another, as with each pulverising gyration of his groin, he lifted her up and down. She teetered on the tips of her toes, breath steaming the window surface.
“Oh, come, babe. Show me,” he muttered between pummels.
Across the road, lights in the opposite building came and went as people moved about the offices. On the distant dim street below, people migrated the sidewalks and yellow cabs weaved through traffic, their headlights glaring. Gemma let out indistinguishable noises. Close to her orgasm, she blocked out the visual distraction and, for a moment, thrilled herself with the idea they weren’t invisible. That they were on show, a grand exhibit above the New York street, and her orgasm erupted.
“Oh, fuck!” she exclaimed as Jason screwed her tight from behind. His climax pumped into her. The hot liquid spurted then dripped out of her, down her thigh.
“Yummy,” she murmured.
