Fixing mistakes and fucking a hot athlete in the school gym.
My skirt was suddenly lifted and swept aside; when had His hands left my breasts? He placed a hand on my stomach and guided me so my hips were arched out, my bare bottom pressed out toward Him in the style of an old-fashioned pin-up girl, minus any traces of modesty. Slowly, His strong hand traced a smooth path over the skin of my ass.
I felt myself starting to pant in desire, soft breaths escaping my lips which had parted at some point and were now allowing every gasp of desire to be heard by His attentive ears. It was in that moment that I realized that there was no small amount of slick moisture starting to gather between my thighs. Maybe there were things that even my captor could not have erased from my soul.
Then I was in His arms as He carried me from the kitchen, down the hall, up the stairs and into our room. His stride was steady, but rapid; I felt myself smiling as I realized that He was as eager as I was, if not more so.
The door to our room closed, sending fresh waves of erotic intimacy coursing through my veins. This was the start, I knew, and I was ready.
More than ready.
Etienne's eyes were glowing as they gazed into mine. His voice was a low whisper, almost as though His need was sapping away His ability to speak.
I did not know my hands could move so fast. The blouse was over my head in a moment, and my skirt was slipping over my hips as though I had four hands to help me undress myself. In that moment, I wanted to be naked for Him. I was afraid, but I wanted Him to see me this way. Vulnerable and fully, completely His.
When I raised my eyes to His, I realized that His shirt was gone, as were His pants. I caught my breath at the sight of His strong, muscular chest, traced with thin scars from various incidents, some of which were unfamiliar to me. His hair was also loose, not pulled back into a ponytail the way He normally chose to keep it contained, falling thick and red over His shoulders.
He looked angelic - not in the innocent and white-winged way, but strong and powerful, like some Seraphim from Heaven come down to protect and to save the innocent.
My Angel, my Wolf, my White Knight, my Master.
The Man I loved.
Oh, He was so much to me.
With a slow smile, Etienne held a hand to me.
"Come to Me, Mine."
For a moment, I wondered if He had forgotten my leg, but then He closed the minor gap between us with His hand still outstretched.
"Come to Me, Mine."
The words repeated echoed in my heart. Physically, He was closing the gap, but emotionally, I was crossing the bridge.
He tenderly helped me to the bed as He sat down on the edge, His feet flat on the floor.
"Over my knee, little one."
Carefully, I bent my body over His bare legs. My stomach was pressed against Him, and I felt the thick throbbing of His cock pulsing slightly against my skin, sending another wave of liquid pleasure down to my already drenched slit.
The first smack of His hand was a light blow to my right cheek, sending ripples of pleasure from my ass up my spine like the effect of a stone being dropped in a pond. By no means was it half-hearted or timid, but a preface to what I knew was coming. I yelped slightly in a odd blend of surprise, stinging pain, and an outlet for pleasure.
"Does My girl want more?" It was a request laden with desire; He knew the answer before the words even left my mouth.
His hand connected with my skin again, left cheek this time, still gentle but firmer than before. I yelped again, this one fading into a soft whimper of pleasure.
"Yes, Master..." Was He doing this on purpose, building my arousal until I wanted to scream?
Of course He was.
The blow came again, once more on the right side, this one much firmer than the first two, the sound loud enough to fill the entire room.
SMACK! My hips lifted, not with pain but with a flood of dripping arousal.