With his other hand, again in what felt like ritualistic preparation, he slid his fingers beneath my undies and pulled them up into my ass crack so that all of my cheeks were exposed.

  He let his hand hang in the air for a moment, savoring my uncertainty, and then slamming it down across my bottom. The crack filled the air, and I gasped, “Oh!”

  The next blow slammed my other cheek and I raised up on my toes, digging them into the carpet. He continued the well-timed synchronized blows, chastening one cheek and then the other, hard swats that echoed in the corners of the embellished mirror above.

  I turned my head toward him, Sir, and cast my eyes past his unreadable features.

  Seeing my reflection, my bountiful bottom turned pink with punishment, and the angle of Arthur’s arm, ready to strike again, caused my pussy to flood with liquid, and silently beg for attention.

  “Oh! Sir!” Even I could hear that my moan was tortured. “I feel…”

  “What do you feel, baby girl. Tell daddy.”

  I was confused, was he Sir or Daddy? What was the difference?

  “It feels like I’m throbbing between my legs when you spank me. Is that normal?”

  “I think the notion of normal is a myth, but I know your reaction makes me a very lucky man.”

  His slaps continued, stinging, causing me to wriggle on his lap and think about the view he had from up above, the same sexy one I saw in the mirror.

  It made me feel beautiful. Something I’d never felt before in my life.

  I gasped as the intensity built, and I could imagine his sleeves rolled up in order to get down to business.

  I was writhing on his lap and every now and again brushed up against his sizable erection that refused to be ignored.

  He delivered two final whacks with full force and I couldn’t help it.

  I screamed and then began a litany of, “I’m sorry, Sir. I’m so sorry for being naughty, please, please stop.”

  “Sweet Belinda, are you certain that you’ve learned your lesson? What you did was very badly behaved indeed.”

  He used one hand to lightly stroke slow circles over my bottom, easing the burn I felt there. With his other hand, he slid two fingers beneath my undies and pushed them inside my pulsing entrance, using his thumb to fondle my clit.

  I lifted my hips up toward his hand, practically chasing his caress, and my own fulfillment, with my pussy.

  “Patience, little one. Slow and easy, or fast and crazy. I’ll fuck you however you like, but the moment has to be right. I don’t think we’re there yet.”

  “What do you mean?” I whined and before I knew what was happening, his fingers were gone, wrapping themselves around my hair and pulling my neck back so that my breasts spilled out over his thighs for his viewing pleasure.

  “That’s right, kitten.” He pinched one nipple and then the next.

  I began to subtly pump my hips as a reflex, until his next round of blows caused me to first cry out and then fade into gratified moans.

  It felt good to be disciplined this way.

  I felt my cheeks growing hot and turned my head to the mirror again to look. By now they were red, no longer pink. I watched my flesh jiggle with each blow and understood why Arthur’s cock was so hard against me, my bottom was a beguiling sight.

  He was dominating me. It wasn’t scary, or horribly painful.

  It was hot.

  That was the thought I had before he said, “We’ll go easy on you today, kitten. I think that’s enough spanking for your first time.”

  Arthur didn’t seem a cruel commander hell bent on making me suffer, in fact his attention to my back end seemed almost — loving.

  I should have been relieved; my punishment was over. Why was it then that I found myself craving more?

  “Is this the right moment?” I say quietly, softly. It took a lot for me to ask that question out loud.

  Talking to a man about sex was not in my purview, and I was just trying it on for size.

  Our kiss was long and leisurely, and it left me panting, exactly why I was oh so very confused and frustrated by Arthur’s next words.

  “I need to quit while I’m ahead, Belinda. I want to give you time. It wouldn’t be fair of me to push you into something you’re not ready for.”

  “What if I want to be pushed. Go ahead, shove me.” I was sitting up on his majestic bed, hitching one side of my buttock up off the mattress in an effort to alleviate the demanding throbs that were rippling through my pussy.

  Finally I had found someone who wanted to be my daddy and he just wasn’t that interested in having sex with me.

  But then why was he so hard? I knew an erection when I saw one.

  “It seems like someone else thinks it’s the right moment right now.” I glanced quickly at his lap to convey my meaning.

  Arthur laughed, deep bass notes that tickled up my spine. “I was ready from the first day I saw you, Belinda. But you’re too precious to rush things. I want you to have time to think things over.”

  “Think what over? I know what I want right now.”

  “That’s just it. I know from experience that some decisions merit a lengthier consideration. Decisions like getting involved in your first dom / sub relationship with a man who is much older than you. Trust me, you’re worth the wait, Belinda.”

  I put my clothes on slowly, there was a heaviness in my belly and an overall sense that something wasn’t right.

  The pulse of desire had throbbed in my veins ever since seeing his faceless photos and imagining he was my daddy.

  Now that he was here in front of me in real life, smoothing down the hair that was mussed by his ministrations to my ass and pussy, try as I might, I just couldn’t make sense of him putting on the brakes at this very heated moment.

  Clearly, I had once again picked a person who seemed just right on the surface, but for one reason or another was all wrong for me.

  Proof positive, yet again that my picker was off.

  I thought Arthur was a dream come true, but I forgot how badly my instincts sucked.

  It was time for me to wake the fuck up.

  8

  ARTHUR

  A different girl would have pouted, stomped out the door, maybe even slammed it.

  That would have been easier to take than watching the color bleach from Belinda’s cheeks and seeing her bite her lip in dismay, because I fought the urge to bury myself in her and put the brakes on having sex with her.

  To say I couldn’t control myself would be no excuse. But that’s how I felt.

  More so than any other time in my life, I felt the bite of raw need driving me to thrust into her, taste her, use her body in ways that would make her remember me forever.

  And I knew that I wouldn’t be gentle.

  While standing at the front door, watching her Mini drive away, I wondered whether I’d hurt her irrevocably.

  I walked to my library and paced, nearly wearing a hole in the carpet, and then ran through a series of Ashtanga Vinyasa to clear my head.

  It worked.

  I texted Belinda that evening.

  It seemed you liked being taken over Daddy’s knee today. Do you think you’d enjoy fighting for control and being overpowered?

  She replied, I’m not sure, Daddy. But when I read your text just now, it made me wet.

  Meet me at 1 p.m. for a champagne lunch tomorrow at the Creekside Winery.

  Wear a dress, no panties.

  She took her time responding.

  Belinda: Bossy.

  Oh kitten. I replied. You have no idea.

  The next day I visited Chapman’s Bookery, owned by an older gentleman, who took pride not only in his extensive selection of books, but also his fine collection of gems and minerals.

  “Afternoon, Bret.” I said.

  “Howdy Arthur. What can I help you with today?”

  “I’m shopping for a few gifts for an avid reader and budding novelist. A special girl.”

  “We just got these in. Perfect for the oncoming winter and someone who spends their time at a typewriter. Err, computer I should say.”

  Bret held up a pair of cotton fingerless gloves covered in tea cups, a fanciful wood mouse, a large rabbit, and text from the story Alice in Wonderland. “Pure cotton and every sale helps fight illiteracy.”

  “I’ll take them. Do you happen to have a copy of Alice and Wonderland? Hard back?”

  Bret led me to the back corner of the store where he kept his rare books.

  “How special would you say this young lady is?” He asked.

  “Immeasurably.”

  Bret opened up a glass case, beneath lay a red book with gold embossment, covered in a clamshell slipcase for preservation.

  “Well, this here is a first edition print, hard cover from 1866. It won’t stay for long in spite of the price tag. Copies like this don’t come around very often. The price is steep but I know that’s of little consequence to you.”

  I read the tag revealed when Bret lifted the book out of it’s display case. $26,000.

  He was right. Belinda needed this gift. Perhaps it would help her grasp the fact that she meant something to me. That I found her enchanting.

  So much so that I didn’t want to rush things.

  “I’ll take it. Would you wrap it and the gloves please? I’ll just peruse a bit more.” A warm, reassuring scent pervaded the shop — the smell of books, old and new. I searched for one title in particular.

  Belinda required reassurance, not only that she was important to me, but also that I desired her. This gift would help to emphasize that fact.

  I pulled from the shelf a plain copy of “The Story of O”.

  Finally, I grabbed a box of Sweetness & Delight chocolates, hand crafted right here in Briarville.

  Satisfied with my purchases, I went to meet Belinda at Creekside.

  She walked toward me, the sun placed behind her, and it gave her skin a soft satin glow.

  I waited at the entrance of the winery, having arrived early and handing Belinda’s gifts to the wait staff to bring out with dessert.

  Post meditation, yoga, and a long brisk walk on my property, my cock was still raring to go. I imagined her on her knees, hand around my shaft, looking up into my eyes with her mouth slightly open, stroking me.

  As if in greeting, I leaked from the bulging tip beneath my boxers.

  Christ, it was going to be a long meal.

  She walked toward me and my chest swelled to see she was wearing robin’s egg blue kitten heels that wrapped around her tiny feet in a leather print that sparkled. Her toes were painted pink.

  This gamine girl was going to be the death of me.

  I bowed to brush my mouth against her plump, red lips. She took my hand and I stopped before entering, lowering myself to whisper in her ear, “Some subs like to ask for permission to do things and have most of their decisions made by their doms, would you like to try it out?”

  She turned to me and her breath was a hot caress on my cheek, “Yes Daddy, I would very much like to experiment with how that makes me feel. And how it makes you feel.”

  Her tone was sweet, but we exchanged a scorched stare, almost a dare, and went inside the restaurant.

  As we approached the table, I spoke softly to Belinda. “In case there is any doubt in your mind, I’ll seat you.”

  Who knew what kind of conditioning she’d had with the young men her age. I was cut from a different cloth, and sometimes it seemed like they no longer wove my particular fabric.

  Her bountiful bottom lowered onto the seat below me and once again, her mouth was at cock height. It was impossible not to visualize her opening her lips for me, not to remember the feel of her silky tresses in my hand.

  Later.

  There was plenty of time for that.

  A fire crackled beside us, I requested this table since it had a bench facing the fire, allowing us to sit side by side.

  “They have smoked oxtail, kitten, have you ever tried it?” I asked her.

  She shook her head and contemplated the dish. “Hm, it comes with black pepper spaghetti, roasted wild mushroom duxelles, cauliflower cream, and is topped with toasted almond gremolata.”

  Belinda leaned across the table toward me, wrinkled her nose and said, “Sounds fancy. Never had oxtail before, is it good?”

  “I think so, but you’ll never know what you think until you give it a whirl.” I picked up her hand. “Like so many things in life.”

  She shrunk slightly at the raging beast of need that must have shown in my eyes, and I attempted to recover, keeping it light. “I’ll order for you.”

  She responded to my touch eagerly and leaned against my body when I put an arm around her. “Care for a mimosa before our food arrives?” I asked her.

  She blew a gust of air past her lips and replied, “That sounds really good, thank you.”

  I waved down the waiter and ordered mimosas, and felt pain in my jaw from clenching my teeth due to the young male’s wandering eyes across Belinda’s juicy body.

  He left and I cupped her face in my hands and nuzzled my way to playfully bite her earlobe, whispering, “Have you been a good girl without daddy, or did you stroke yourself here?”

  Her breath grew ragged when I inhaled her and patted the top of her lap, knowing she was naked beneath her dress, yet not exploring with my fingers.

  She gave a breathy little moan. “Do you think I have panties on right now?”

  “You’d better not.” I sat up straight, ignoring the burning in my stomach when the waiter came over and took our order.

  “I love it when you give me the look,” she said.

  “What look is that?”

  “The look like you’re about to say, ‘Take your dress off, kneel, and unbuckle my belt. Right now! ’”

  My nostrils flared and I could feel my muscles vibrating. “Has any man said such things to you before?”

  “No, but I read a lot, remember? Plus. Porn.”

  “You watch porn?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Belinda. I’ve always found it to be a rather lonely pursuit.”

  “Sometimes a person isn’t really given a choice.”

  “You have a choice now.” I lifted her chin and adored her mouth with my tongue.

  I wanted to dive into her right there at our fireside table in front of the entire restaurant.

  Belinda wriggled in her seat, pressing her fingers to her smiling lips. “That was delicious,” she said.

  “I hope you left room for dessert,” I remarked.

  “What’s all this?” She gestured to the stack of gifts brought out by the waiter with our chocolate mousse.

  “They’re for you, kitten.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “For being you. Because I wanted to. A symbol of my affection and ardor. You seemed to doubt me a little yesterday, and I want you to know, from the moment I first saw you, my overwhelming fascination with you has blotted out all reason. And I am a man who has made my career, my fortune, founded on reason.”

  “Oh my stars.” She pressed her fingers to her lips and tears welled on the lower lashes of her hazel eyes.

  “You’re crying?” I pulled her to me on the bench seat.

  “Why would you do something like this?”

  “Belinda, I see nothing wrong with a man buying gifts for a pretty woman he cares for.”

  “But, but, no one has ever done anything like this for me!”

  “Maybe you want to open the packages before you get all worked up. You don’t even know what I got you yet.”

  She shoved herself across the bench as if to leave the table.

  “Belinda Donnovan.”

  She actually spun at me, arms crossed, may as well have stomped her foot. “What?”

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I need to use the ladies room if you don’t mind.”

  Her need for training was evident. If we were at home, or in one of the more private venues in town, I’d have taken her over my knee.

  Instead I said gently, “What do you say, kitten?”

  “Please Sir, may I use the restroom?” She was teasing I could tell; no idea that she was indeed playing with fire.

  “Of course. I’ll be here awaiting your return.”

  Belinda’s overt gratitude over a few gifts broke my heart, she was a girl who deserved to be spoiled and treated like a princess.

  My sentimental train of thought was smashed to smithereens when she returned from the ladies’ room.

  She had completely flipped the tables on me and was wearing a dark red, vampy lipstick that had painted her mouth into an irresistible little fuck hole.

  9

  BELINDA

  Do you think you’d enjoy fighting for control and being overpowered?

  Ever since Arthur sent the provocative text, the words chimed through my brain like a sexy song I couldn’t get out of my head.

  Why yes, Arthur, I do. I think I’d like that very much.

  All I had to go by were my own personal masturbatory adventures, and the scenes got me off.

  Being under a man’s complete control — oh let’s be real — being his sex slave, was a fantasy that worked every time.

  But not just any man.

  A man like Arthur.

  Refined. Distinguished. Self confident. Mature.

  Silver-haired.

  Suit sporting.

  Arthur was in the driver’s seat of his BMW and we were headed toward his house again. Somehow the term ‘house’ fell short. It was a freaking mansion.

  I guess he could afford the beautiful, hard bound antique copy of Alice in Wonderland he bought me, and the expensive lunch.

  From the seat next to me he spoke, “Pull your skirt up, Belinda. Let me see my treasure.”

  My body went warm when he ordered me to do things, and I hoped to God that the lipstick did the trick.

  That Arthur wouldn’t be able to resist having his way with me.

  I couldn’t wait any longer.

  There were a gazillion pent up sexual urges fighting for attention in my undersexed, twenty-eight year old body.

 

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