D is for Dungeon Crawl
How spiffing. I can do both.
Let me add another D – Dozen
What is it about counting in dozens? Or half a dozen? Six of the best! A phrase that echoed in the ears of many a school child in days gone by when faced with a school master’s cane.
Things have gone metric these days. No more 12 pence to the shilling. We count in tens.
I do like the dozen though.
Here is an excerpt from my latest book. Set in the late 1960s, when the shilling still existed and a dozen remained a typical measure.
Remember the damp tea towel from a couple of weeks ago. Here it is again and this time Leah gets to spend her shilling in the jukebox too.
After a dozen, Rick stopped and made an inspection. He rubbed down her cheeks, tempering the furnace that he had lit and then to her incredulity, he slid his finger down, over her little puckered bud and then between her folds and into her slit.
He didn’t comment on her overt wetness, her readiness for something more than a spanking. “Another dozen should do it.”
Now, his intentions confused her. Would it complete the punishment or make her ready for something else? The next twelve jolted her back into the here and now. Shrieking, she wriggled and kicked her legs. Long strands of hair dangled down past her face, sweeping the surface of the stage as she shook her head.
The last flick and rotation of his wrist, the final swat of wet fabric whipped across her inflamed rump and then he tossed the towel onto the stage by her head.
“Well done,” he said, “but don’t get up.” His hand nudged her back down and he moved directly behind her. Leah, resuming her humiliating pose, peered down through the strands of hair, noticing her fingers had left clammy prints on the dusty wooden platform.
Breathing rapidly, she heard him move; he had crouched down to inspect her once again. Starting at the base of her spine, steady thumbs traced the curvature of her bottom, slid between her buttocks, carefully parting her, seeking and probing her flaunted pussy. She pictured her pink puffed lips, his thumbs delving between them, separating and examining her wetness, the image framed by two blushed buttocks. Rick emitted a murmur. A deep purr, like a primal sound of delight. Without thinking, Leah clenched, capturing his penetrating thumbs. In response to her reaction, the noise from behind her deepened.
Seeing his actions in her head wasn’t necessary any longer; she could feel the liquid arousal dripping out of her. The seconds ticked by and she could barely stay on her feet as he combined his digital exploration with stroking the heat out of her globes.
Suddenly, Rick lifted his hands off her, rose and helped Leah to her feet, then he turned and picked up the coin. “Go, choose something. The dancing will take your mind off the pain.”
Leah ran her finger down the glass, viewing the options available. Putting the coin in the slot, she punched the number of the song. The Wurlitzer jukebox lit up and the ancient mechanism sounded especially loud in the empty club. Eventually, the needle landed on the record with a startling crackle.
There was the familiar pulse of nothingness as the record rotated and then the guitar started up. The cymbal joined in, followed by the rattle of quiet tambourine.
“Marvin Gaye,” said Rick over her shoulder. “A good choice.” He tugged on her hand, drawing her towards his chest.
His hands perched on her hips, while her own circled his neck. She swayed from side to side in time to the strum of the guitar. She crooned a few words as their feet shuffled to the beat. “Heard it through the grapevine, ooh, I’m just about to lose my mind.”
His face buried in her long hair, and he let out a groan. She knew his resolve was being broken with each line of the song. The small circles they moved in on the meagre dance floor grew tinier and less noticeable, until their feet stopped moving and the kisses began.
As the record ended, he walked her backwards, kissing her lips the whole time, until she bumped into the jukebox. The slanted front of the box was a perfect height. He lifted her up a fraction and she perched her bottom on the cold glass of the display. Her skirt had risen up high, showing her pussy as she opened her legs up wide. Any sense of discomfort in her whipped bottom had been forgotten; she felt only the glass under her cheeks.
His thumbs held apart her labia, seeking out her wet hole and at the same time, she reached for his zipper and released his hardness. Steely and upright, it had been bulging in his pants for some time; she had seen it after the spanking, waiting for her, like her wetness for him. Rick lowered his head between her legs and licked her slit, his tongue lashing up and over her emerging clit.
“Oh, my,” she muttered, leaning back on the jukebox.
His cock now fully exposed, it sprung to attention and he grabbed hold of her hips, aiming the tip for her impatient pussy. With one thrust he speared her and the box rocked slightly on its footings. He rose up on to his toes, lifting his cock up higher into her, hitting her inner belly with his firm erection. His length reached into her core and she grasped the edge of the jukebox for support. What began as gentle thrusts quickly transformed into hard pummels, rocking the jukebox on its casters. The records clattered in their slots and the coins in the box jingled as Rick fucked Leah into oblivion.
She screamed when she came, just like she would do at a pop concert. A release of energy and the orgasm rippled out in a continuous stream of pulses. A rhythmic climax to rival one produced by the jukebox.
Rick did not stop. He grunted, holding her body tight to his as he continued to use her, jerking his pelvis back and forth. Catching his breath, he eased out of her and, taking her arms, pulled her body around so she was bent over the box, her face pressed against the glass.
“Rick?” she said nervously.
“Hold still, beauty. Time to give you a good hard fuck,” said Rick into her ear.
When Leah Andrews’ father hires him to be her chauffeur, Rick Wilde finds himself drawn to the feisty eighteen-year-old even as his patience is tried by her immature behaviour. At last Leah’s rudeness and bad decisions force him to intervene, and he takes her over his knee for a good, hard spanking—the first of her pampered life—but neither of them are prepared for the powerful attraction which follows. Rick knows she needs time and space to step out on her own two feet without him there to interfere, though, and he breaks things off before they go too far.
After Leah’s father dies three years later she returns to her wild ways, and before long her license has been suspended for reckless driving. To her shock, the chauffeur the agency sends is none other than Rick Wilde, and she soon learns that he remains more than ready to bare her bottom and spank her soundly when she needs it.
His firm handed correction brings her lust for him back with a vengeance, and she quickly discovers that he can bring her more pleasure in the bedroom than she ever dreamed possible. But when danger from one of Rick’s past jobs becomes an imminent threat and Rick needs Leah to leave Liverpool until things are safe again, can she bring herself to obey him even though the thought of losing him a second time is more than she can bear?
Publisher’s Note: Driven Wild is an erotic romance novel that includes spankings, anal play, graphic sexual scenes, and more. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.
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