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She struggles against me while I hold her down by the neck and yank her leggings down past her ass.
“This is not the way to get me to change my mind!” she huffs.
“I know that. This is just for fun,” I snap before groping a buttock.
“This is assault.”
I almost tell her I’ve been guilty of worse. I smack my hand to an ass cheek. The sound is amazing. She yelps and starts to struggle harder. I spank her a few more times before sliding my hand between her thighs.
She stills.
My blood pumps faster. This is the test. I might have crossed a line with Bridget, but I haven’t had a woman not give in before, sexually or otherwise.
“That’s not going to get me to change my mind, either,” she mutters as I fondle her clit.
Right now, I don’t give a fuck about the clothes. I give her ass a hard wallop.
“Geez!” she cries out.
I spank her until her ass is a nice shade of red, then go back to playing with her clit. She goes from grunting to groaning. Now that she’s not struggling as much, I fist my other hand in her hair and pull her head up, forcing her to crane her neck and arch her back. I agitate my digits faster against her flesh.
“Oh my God,” she murmurs.
After I get her wetness flowing, I go back to spanking her. I haven’t given her a safety word, but she hasn’t asked me to stop, either. I rub a buttock and sink my fingers into it. This is a nice piece of ass. I can’t wait to see how cane marks look on it.
“Your ass was made for spanking,” I remark, grabbing an orb, then slapping it. “You know that, Bridge?”
When she doesn’t answer, I yank on her hair. “I asked a question.”
“I thought it was rhetorical,” she grunts. “I did not know.”
I admire the hue. “It’s looking so pretty for me right now. You ever been fucked in the ass?”
“No.”
Something to work towards. I plunge my middle finger into her wet, hot pussy and imagine what it would feel like being in her virginal asshole. Withdrawing, I add my forefinger before pushing back in. She moans.
Last time, I said I wasn’t going to remind her to ask to come. Let’s see how well she remembers.
“Oh my God,” she whimpers as I alternate my hand right-side up, then upside down.
Curling my fingers inside her, I find her preferred spot and angle. After slowly stroking her, I increase the speed of my thrusting.
“I’m going to…” she starts. “Can I come?”
I don’t answer but tighten my grip on her hair.
“Can I come, sir?”
She’s even more trainable than the German Shepherd I had growing up.
“Yeah, come,” I reward her.
She comes undone over my lap with long groans and sustained quaking and the occasional shudder when I jab my fingers back inside her. She lets out a haggard breath.
I flip her onto the oversized ottoman and push her knees to her chest. Holding her ankles in one hand, I undo my pants with the other.
“What’s the birth control situation?” I demand, pulling out my throbbing erection.
