Another little snippet from book 2 (Trust Me to Own You).
A little forest spanking for Gemma and her Dominant. She is living out a fantasy – isn’t that always fun?! He isn’t so enthusiastic but what delights her can delight him too especially if he can draw out her lust for him. He watches her drift off and then….
Well that’s for the book.
Feeling the need to be close by him, she waited for him to catch up and offered him her hand. He seized it and they walked up the trail away from the water and into the forest. The leaves rustled and at their peak of annual growth, they fanned the air. He ripped off a long branch from a nearby fern and used it to waft away the tiny flies, which swarmed about their heads. No one else was about and they took a break from their meandering to rest against a tree.
She leaned against his body, her head on his chest. “Please,” was all she said.
“Babe?” he queried.
“Touch me?” she peered up at him.
The change of environment and being amongst wildlife had made her want him. As if mother nature had instructed her. The palms of her hands rested on his shoulders and she stood on tiptoe to kiss his lips. The fern was still in his hands and he trailed the edge of it down her leg. She could not feel it, but the idea of it touching her made her moan.
“There. I touched you,” he said.
“Please, sir,” she said sweetly.
“I don’t do outdoors, Gemma,” he said, “no lying around in the foliage.”
“No foliage?” she eyed up the fern.
“Doesn’t this count as a public space?” he commented with a raised eyebrow.
“Not public. Wild,” she countered.
“I see. Well you can get wild with me. Show me your flesh, as much as you dare,” he challenged her.
Gemma stepped back from him and his face was his tantalising impassive one. His ‘I’m in control’ expression and she found her hands drifting to the buttons of her short sleeved blouse. Slowly she undid each button until her bra was exposed. One of his fingers drew the edges of blouse apart so he could see her pert breasts.
“Go on,” he said smoothly.
Gemma began to undo the button on her jeans and then she eased down the zipper. Pushing the fabric of her hips, she let them slide down passed her knees. She was wearing bikini knickers and she rubbed her thighs together trying to suppress the desire to spread her legs wide for him. She looked terribly wanton, she knew. In her head, she was being brazen and living out a fantasy of sex in the big outdoors. Her imagination was far more rampant than what he was making her do. In her dreams, she was tossed to the ground or tied over a fallen trunk.
He remained unmoved by her striptease act. She had not taken her eyes off him the whole time and his features betrayed nothing. Her hand reached out to his waistband and he struck her with the fern. Biting down on her lip, she tried again and he repeated his action.
“No,” he said simply.
The fern was moving towards her, it crept up belly and he slipped the tickling foliage behind her blouse. Her lower jaw dropped and she let him continue to explore her with his green appendage. His arm lowered and he trailed the branch down towards her knickers, she instinctively parted her legs and he brushed it between her thighs.
“Oh God,” she murmured. Her hands moved behind her back out of temptations way, she so desperately wanted to feel his skin under her fingers.
He had been resisting up to then. He seriously did not want to have sex with her. He never had fantasies about sex outside or lying in meadows. He could do other things with her to satisfy her cravings. The trees were mature and broader in girth further away from the path. Taking the waistband of her jeans, he pulled them up to her thighs. There was a moment of disappointment on her face until she realised he was taking further into the woods. Stopping by a broad tree, he forced her against it and flipping her round, she rested the palms of hand against the rough bark.
Gemma’s heart was pounding as her jeans returned to their place around her ankles. She shut her eyes, she shivered. It was not cold, she was quivering with anticipation. The fern brushed against bottom.
“Ask,” he said softly.
“Ask again,” his lips were practically touching her ear lobe.
“Please, master,” she said.
“It will hurt,” he warned her, “like the whip.”
“I want it. I need it,” she said firmly.
“I don’t know,” she confessed. “I didn’t get humiliation yesterday. I’ve got it today. Yesterday I felt worthless, today I feel vulnerable and totally in your hands.” The fern continued to tickle her skin.
“Then have what you want, babe,” he drew back the fern and brought it crashing down against her bottom.
Gemma jerked with the force of the blow. The pain hit immediately and she bit down on her lip to suppress a cry of alarm. He was right, it hurt like crazy. He whipped her repeatedly making the pain soar into her brain. The sound of the fern whooshing through the air before it hit her made her press her face against the bark harder had harder. She gasped with each strike.
Finally, a tear was in her eye. A tiny trop of liquid, which indicated she was struggling with the pain. It did not matter; she processed it as she always had done, with rambling mental words or repetitive images. Then it happened, as she wanted it to. She was drifting away into the trees, into the branches above her head and the ground sank deeper beneath her. She found herself suspended between the two.
He stopped. The fern had been shredded by the beating. She was aware of him rubbing her bottom with rapid movements dispersing the pain about. Turning her around he took her in his embrace and with his back to the trunk, she remained there while her throbbing bottom assimilated and dispersed the heat.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, her lips buried in his shirt.
“You’re welcome,” he replied stroking her back with his hand. A comforting repetitive motion.
His finger flicked her cheek.
“Put your clothes back on,” he flicked again when she did not move. “Quickly!” his voice was sharp and she responded.
Her fingers fumbled with her trouser button and as she tried to button up her blouse; she heard voices.