Saturday night, all dolled up in their finest and off for an evening in an exclusive nightclub. There is no dance floor or DJ, but there are rooms. Private rooms with particular furniture and equipment. Welcome to the Nightshade Club…..
Gemma could see before her eyes a very fired up and keen master who wanted his submissive for more fun and play. Trembling hands rested on her thighs, something she couldn’t hide from Jason. For few minutes, he knelt behind her and trailed his mouth and fingers about her. A cocoon of succulent kisses landed about her neck, shoulders and cheeks as she tilted her head for him.
Jason browsed his menu of kinky options and selected one. He told her to lie on the leather padded table on her belly. Tying her in place with ropes about her ankles and wrists, he found the material he sought. A crock pot of wax. No lighted candles were permitted in the private rooms, they set off the smoke detectors. Heating up the wax, he blindfolded her and then proceeded to trail purple wax over her back and haunches.
Flitting the distance above her between high and low, she tried to wriggle and squirm and in the end, she drifted off and was content to lie still. Murmurs passed her lips and she giggled drunkenly or yelped when he came close with the hot liquid. He painted her a waxy purple and then crawled on to the table to position himself above her. Naked, the wax smudged between them as he lifted himself in and out of her.
Gemma, in her own world of bliss, loved him being above her, dipping in and out just as he had done with a spoonful of wax. His hands gripped her shoulders and she bore as much of his weight as she could bear before grunting in discomfort. Noticing, he shifted and decided to move her. Untied he simply had her bend over the table as he eased back into her sleek pussy. The sound of her squirting around him drove him to move faster, harder and deeper. Flicking off the wax from her back, she gasped and her knuckles turned white while she clutched the table edge.
“Fuck, please,” she moaned indiscriminately.
Her ponytail was too much of alluring temptation. As he pulled her head back with it, sending shots of pain along her scalp until they tingled across her scorched body down to her pussy. She tightened about his thrusting cock and he came, spurting his own sticky residue inside. He slapped her thighs and told her to come. Counting down from three, he was delighted to see her explode as he whispered ‘one’ into her ear. She came about his diminished cock and it seemed to reinvigorate him.
“Ah yes,” he growled. “You’re making me so hard tonight, baby. I’m not finished.”
Gemma slumped on the table as he eased out of her. Exhausted she blinked in the bright light as he slipped off blindfold.
“Fucked too far?” he smirked. “Well, don’t worry, all you need do his stick that gob of yours on me and suck away. Not too hard is it?”
Gemma grinned at him with sleepy eyes. “Sure, no problems, can do that in my sleep. You’re easy.”
The spanking he gave her for being flippant was exactly what she wanted. On her own mental list of options, spanked hard with a paddle was both 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 leakages, she added more to the mess and she felt it trickled down her thigh, blatantly showing him her pleasure at being spanked.
“Such a hussy,” said Jason softly, 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 husband. He was naked. A statue of fine musculature, smooth skin still bronze from their cruise and bleached yellow hair, tousled about his face. His blue eyes glimmered in the light, in the same way her own green ones did. Both of them blessed with a richness of colour, although Jason’s pierced far beyond her own.
He stabbed at her with eyes as she licked her tongue about her lips, reminding him she was ready to service him. Tossing her light brown hair about, she jutted her bottom out more, an act of enticement that would goad him into spanking her more, which he did, with suitable words of admonishment at her slutty behaviour.
Gemma delivered all that he required: spread legs, pussy on display with glistening swollen sex lips – 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 softly. “You need this so much, babe.”
I’m working on a new trilogy of books about Jason and Gemma. However, there is plenty of time to catch up and read the first three – Trust Me.
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