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xhornyme's Blog
The punishment room
Good girl,” Tom said. He pulled her off the desk, rested his hands on his hips to admire the long, smooth stretch of her bare skin and then turned her around. He bent her over the table. Her arms reached over the table and she spread her legs. Tom could see the growing wetness on her crotch. His hand went out and cupped her and beneath the thin fabric of her panties, he felt the swell of her aroused lips. He pressed there just enough.
Her ass rose with his hand. “Yes, Tom—“
Tom removed his hand. “That didn’t take long, did it?”
“I meant Mr. Donner. C’mon that’s not fair…”
“Shut. Up,” Tom said.
Then he tore off her panties. He didn’t peel them off or gently guide them down. He grabbed the thin cloth over one hip, squeezed the fabric between his hands and ripped them. Tom worked the tear to the other side to remove the elastic, leaving him with a fancy satin rag.
Mary trembled and tried to squeeze her legs together, no doubt to stoke the fires of her lust. Tom put his knee between her thighs.
“Not until I say so,” he said.
Tom again went to the filing cabinet and pulled out an extra long chalkboard eraser fully three-feet long. He hadn’t used an actual chalkboard in five years, and this eraser had been hard to track down. Eventually he found it on eBay. It was perfect for those old-fashioned chalkboards and also as a themed spreader bar.
Once again he used the baby oil, covering her knees with it, and then placed the eraser between them. He crisscrossed layers of the tape in figure eights over her greased knees until the bar was firmly fixed.
When he finished, he slapped her ass and said, “There’s your spreader bar.”
Mary waggled her legs but could not put them together. She started to lean back, but Tom pushed her down again.
“My fault,” he said. He pushed her wrists onto the desk again and then put layer upon layer over the binding, fastening her to the surface. When he finished, he stood back and slapped her ass again.
“I can’t move,” she said.
Tom slapped her ass harder. “Can’t move…what?”
“I can’t move, Mr. Donner.”
Tom leaned down and whispered in her ear. “That’s the idea.”
She moaned again.
Tom stood back, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. His eyes feasted in the helpless vision before him. A beautiful, light brunette bent over his desk, every inch available for him. Only like this could Tom really enjoy exploring a woman’s body visually. During “regular” lovemaking a man can’t ask to stare at a woman’s secrets for minutes at a time. Now, as he slowly undressed, he could. He could stare all he wanted.
The bar spread her ass cheeks apart. He saw the slight flatness of her tailbone, then the seam of darker flesh between her cheeks going down to the puckered indentation of her asshole, then the rise of her perineum and to the mound of her pussy, glistening wet. Her twin lips hung heavy with lust. Tom would feast on all of it. ALL of it. He’d polish that long seam of flesh like an ice cream cone. In his not-insubstantial experience, he had discovered that while women don’t want you putting anything IN their ass, they appreciated attention outside and around it.
Mary tried to turn her head to see him. She couldn’t. He made her wait two minutes, then three then five minutes for him. Each minute she became more impatient, but her arousal didn’t diminish.
“T—Mr. Donner?” she said.
“Yes?”
“Are you going to fuck me or what?” Mary said.