Leather’s Kiss (The Full Story) - Sex Stories

Leather’s Kiss (The Full Story)

... fingers of one hand, he spanked me with the palm of the other, directing his blows to the flesh that had best escaped his belt. My lips parted, screams became deep, urgent moans, pleas for him to continue. His fingers withdrew onto my clit.

As my hips rotated in one direction, his fingers worked in the other—his spanks set the momentum of the spinning top that was my ass. I began to shake. Small, faltering shakes at first, building into a body quake that shook the couch to its legs. I screamed through my orgasm; ecstasy vibrated through every nerve.

My eyes found his, and I swear his eyes pierced my soul.

Once my spasms stopped, he placed a tender, reassuring hand on my back before guiding me to lay on my tummy along the couch.

I heard him retrieve something from a refrigerator, then shuddered as he pressed cool towels against my cheeks.

He smeared soothing lotion across my tender flesh. It felt like an anointing, a baptism, a form of worship.

We left the room. With a gentle touch to my shoulders, he guided me to a long, gilded mirror in the bathroom, gave me a hand mirror, and turned me around. Lifting my dress, he bunched it over my waist so I could see his work.

There was an even, pink glow across my bottom, like a figure of eight on its side. Then, there were deeper red hazes. I swallowed hard, transfixed by the beauty of my beaten cheeks.

He adjusted my dress and led me to the sitting room, helping me lower my sore bottom gingerly onto the ...

... cool couch.

“I’ll get us some tea.”

My hands shook so badly that I feared the tea would spill. Quickly, I replaced the cup on the saucer. He moved closer and lifted the cup to my lips. The hot liquid was an elixir to my parched mouth. I delighted in his gentle care.

“Is something wrong with me — needing this?”

He chuckled before answering. “To say yes would be to say something was wrong with me, too. But, no, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Then wh- why did you send me away the first two times?” Finally, I’d asked my burning question.

He raised the cup to my lips once again, and his expression turned serious.

“You weren’t ready. You were desperate but not abandoned to your fate. You were a beautiful, noble mare on the cusp of being broken. But you fought against your reins, hoping you might escape submission. You needed to become hopeless because freedom, for you, lies beyond hope.”

Our eyes remained locked as he placed the cup back onto its saucer.

His gaze was magnetic. I couldn’t pull my eyes away or my lips apart. How had I not thought him handsome before? His voice, his accent, was oxygen, feeding me, easing away the crippling tensions of my defiance. He ran his palm over my cheek until his powerful fingers caressed the side of my neck while his thumb brushed the corner of my mouth. My lips teased apart at his touch.

“Do you feel the freedom now?”

Blinking, without losing his gaze, I curled my neck and took his thumb deep into my mouth, ...