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“Why yes,” Zelda replied, as if Martha should understand completely.
Martha took the butter paddle from her, inspecting the redheaded vamp with a careful eye. They didn’t know each other well, having Remy in common, but little else. Even she could be the murderer. But it still didn’t detract from the delicious redhead’s erotic allure. She wanted her hands on her breasts. She wanted to kiss her neck and run her nails down her torso. Of course, it wouldn’t hurt to start her with a red ass. A sudden explosion of unfulfilled needs raced through Martha’s veins. She missed this kind of thing; Remy only wanted her sex soft and gentle. “Drop your shorts,” she said, taking on a commanding tone of voice.
Zelda smiled happily, her eyes seductive and warm, as she backed away from the counter and reached for the waistband of her shorts. She did a fine job playing the naughty vixen.
“You know it’s not quite the same,” Martha said, “Felicia was wearing a red flowered sundress. I remember it so well.”
“But an ass is an ass,” Zelda said, sweetly, as she unzipped the pink shorts and let them fall to the floor.
It was a sweet cunt that gazed back at Martha, a luscious little triangle between a pair of white thighs, with soft red curls that were already dewy wet.
“Felicia bent over the table and pulled up her dress. I didn’t even have to ask her,” Martha continued.
Zelda bit her lip while smiling coyly and turned around, bending over the heavy butcher block table behind her.
“She spread her ass for me with her hands, digging her nails into her bottom until her cheeks blushed pink,” Martha added.
Zelda reached around and planted a hand on each ass cheek, squeezing her bottom roughly, then pulling the cheeks apart the way Felicia had done.
Martha viewed with mounting lust the alabaster white bottom, which was now beginning to turn red. She remembered Felicia’s well; it was only weeks ago that their games began. Always out of the blue, moments of stolen lust when Remy and Betsy weren’t around. This ass was whiter than Felicia’s and broader. The pleasantly plump Zelda, like her name, was a woman from another time—and maybe not unlike Felicia, Martha was beginning to think. Although she figured that Zelda was more of a dabbler than Felicia was—the Diva of Roman Hill was serious about her infinite lusts.
“She wanted it to hurt,” Martha said approaching the fine round ass.
“Hummm yes, make it hurt,” the redhead murmured, taking her hands from her bottom, and grabbing the far edge of the table.
Martha waited until the red scratches faded away before beginning. Then drawing back her arm, she brought the paddle down firmly on Zelda’s naked bottom. Martha watched the woman’s body jerk, her flesh jiggle, and the red rise in the imprint of the paddle’s oval end, right at the center of the round ass cheek. She smacked her a dozen times more, hearing a low sensuous growl from Zelda’s lips.
Then Martha suddenly dropped the paddle, wanting to feel Zelda’s flesh. She slapped the surface with the palm of her hand, and noting the way the woman whimpered, she guessed that Zelda wanted more. More enthused than ever, Martha pelted the redhead with one sharp strike after another. Then she picked up the paddle again and began another ferocious excursion around the bright red flesh.
“Oh yes, please!” Zelda cried, “Make it hurt more, damn yes!”
A burning heat rose between Martha’s thighs, the sensation torrid like a wonderful bath of pleasure – just the way it had been with the sultry sorceress of this house. Dropping the paddle again, Martha’s hand reached into Zelda’s cunt and found a wet stream of female juice flowing over her hand.
“Have you cum yet?” she asked.
“No. Spank me more!”
“More?”
“Yes, ma’am, I want to cry,” Zelda purred. For a moment the redhead reached back and played with her own red ass, but then anticipating another round of blows from the paddle, she brought her hands back to hold on to the table edge.
This time Martha paddled the woman in a rain of blows that didn’t cease until she heard the woman cry, and saw that a flood of tears had finally spilled from Zelda’s green eyes. However, there was little protest coming from the spanked redhead; the abuse was what she longed for. Although on the heels of the painful punishment, Zelda’s need to be hurt transformed into a need for sexual release.
“Please, suck me,” she groaned loudly. As the paddle halted its vicious excursion, Zelda provocatively swayed her red ass before Martha’s eyes.
“You little slut!” the woman gave her butt a hard smack. “Get on the table and show me your tits!”
Zelda stood up, turned around and pulled her blouse away, revealing her voluptuous body, now sticky with sweat and her chest heaving with desire. “God. I need you now, let’s go upstairs.”
“No. No. Not upstairs, on the porch,” Martha countered, taking the redhead by her hand and leading her to the back porch, where Felicia’s pink floral chaise lounge lay empty.
Martha stripped while Zelda lay back looking at the woman’s naked breasts. Martha’s soft body would be a mellow pleasure to enjoy. The wispy black hair covering her cunt was glistening with obvious sexual arousal.
“You like your body spanked?” Martha asked, as she descended on the reclining Zelda.
“Yes, I do, and I like sex rough.”
“You like leather and whips too?”
