His eyes are radiant with knowledge and mischief and power, utterly entrancing - although there's a base part of me that's more interested in his enormous erection and is dying to check that out.
"I suppose I should say sorry for stringing you along," he says softly, the stroke of his finger beneath my chin an elegant counterpoint to the throb, throb in my bottom and in my pussy, "But a master doesn't usually apologize, does he?"
The "M" word makes the pulsation between my legs deeper, hotter – even though it's barely minutes since I came. "No, but you still could have told me," I persist, wondering and hoping that if I provoke him enough he might do more, more, more.
"Indeed... indeed I could." His beautiful eyes glitter with excitement, danger, desire and dominance, holding me utterly as he goes on to remind me of the party where we met, and how he sought me out. I'd wondered why he – this peach of a man – had selected me when there were much, much sexier girls on the prowl. I'm pretty enough, but I know I'm a quiet bloomer.
"You're right. I could – I can – read you. I could tell you shared my interests... it's patently obvious from the way you carry yourself." I shudder at the thought of me beaming out those secret signals, an open book to a cognoscento like Terrence. "So I decided to see how long it would take for you to admit it."
"Oh, for heaven's sake! You devious bastard!"
"Tut tut... naughty, naughty," he chides, but the look in his eyes makes me wetter and warmer than ever, "Why so cross? It's what you wanted, isn't it? Part of the game? The dance?"
I want maintain to my mega-defiance act, play at being aggrieved, but the greater part of me, the truer part of me is thrilled, light-headed. He is my ideal, and I can't believe my luck.
"Um... yes... I suppose," I answer with a last mulish flicker.
"Finally, she admits it. I should punish you for being so obstinate, shouldn't I?"
My heart lurches. Can my steaming bottom take it? So soon? When I'm so red, so sore? But my sex lurches too, gathering itself and readying. I almost come, without a touch, at the thought of more.
"Yes, master," I whisper, lowering my head in acknowledgement, and starting to shuffle into position in order to get up and across his knee again.
"Oh no, Vickie... not that. Well, not right at the moment." He adjusts his own position now, conveying an eloquent message, and gilding it with a gentle but still delightfully devilish smile.
Oh yummy, I think, reaching out to unfasten his zip.
###
About Portia Da Costa
Portia Da Costa is a best-selling British author of romance, erotic romance and erotica, who's been published since the dinosaurs roamed. Well, since the early 1990s. She loves writing about sexy, likeable people in steamy, scandalous situations, and has penned novels, novellas and novelettes for Spice Briefs, Black Lace, Samhain Publishing and a bunch of other houses, plus a zillion stories for magazines and anthologies. Best known for writing contemporary settings, she's also launched herself back in time to write Victorian erotic romance for Harlequin Spice Briefs and HQN.
When Portia isn't writing she's usually being creatively lazy, rather like her beloved cat Alice but unlike her long suffering, hard-working husband.
Connect with Portia Online
Twitter: http://twitter.com/PortiaDaCosta
Website: http://www.portiadacosta.com
Blog: http://wendyportia.blogspot.com
Delicious Masters
~ when women meet the Doms of their dreams ~
An Appointment with Her Master
Shy, but secretly sexy and imaginative, Mary-Anne Green fantasizes about having her bottom spanked by a stern and powerful master, the beautiful, cultured hero of her wildest dreams. She longs to feel the hand of a dominant man upon her, punishing her flesh, then caressing it to the heights of exquisite pleasure.
It seems that these wild scenarios are destined to remain solely in her imagination, until one day
"I suppose I should say sorry for stringing you along," he says softly, the stroke of his finger beneath my chin an elegant counterpoint to the throb, throb in my bottom and in my pussy, "But a master doesn't usually apologize, does he?"
The "M" word makes the pulsation between my legs deeper, hotter – even though it's barely minutes since I came. "No, but you still could have told me," I persist, wondering and hoping that if I provoke him enough he might do more, more, more.
"Indeed... indeed I could." His beautiful eyes glitter with excitement, danger, desire and dominance, holding me utterly as he goes on to remind me of the party where we met, and how he sought me out. I'd wondered why he – this peach of a man – had selected me when there were much, much sexier girls on the prowl. I'm pretty enough, but I know I'm a quiet bloomer.
"You're right. I could – I can – read you. I could tell you shared my interests... it's patently obvious from the way you carry yourself." I shudder at the thought of me beaming out those secret signals, an open book to a cognoscento like Terrence. "So I decided to see how long it would take for you to admit it."
"Oh, for heaven's sake! You devious bastard!"
"Tut tut... naughty, naughty," he chides, but the look in his eyes makes me wetter and warmer than ever, "Why so cross? It's what you wanted, isn't it? Part of the game? The dance?"
I want maintain to my mega-defiance act, play at being aggrieved, but the greater part of me, the truer part of me is thrilled, light-headed. He is my ideal, and I can't believe my luck.
"Um... yes... I suppose," I answer with a last mulish flicker.
"Finally, she admits it. I should punish you for being so obstinate, shouldn't I?"
My heart lurches. Can my steaming bottom take it? So soon? When I'm so red, so sore? But my sex lurches too, gathering itself and readying. I almost come, without a touch, at the thought of more.
"Yes, master," I whisper, lowering my head in acknowledgement, and starting to shuffle into position in order to get up and across his knee again.
"Oh no, Vickie... not that. Well, not right at the moment." He adjusts his own position now, conveying an eloquent message, and gilding it with a gentle but still delightfully devilish smile.
Oh yummy, I think, reaching out to unfasten his zip.
###
About Portia Da Costa
Portia Da Costa is a best-selling British author of romance, erotic romance and erotica, who's been published since the dinosaurs roamed. Well, since the early 1990s. She loves writing about sexy, likeable people in steamy, scandalous situations, and has penned novels, novellas and novelettes for Spice Briefs, Black Lace, Samhain Publishing and a bunch of other houses, plus a zillion stories for magazines and anthologies. Best known for writing contemporary settings, she's also launched herself back in time to write Victorian erotic romance for Harlequin Spice Briefs and HQN.
When Portia isn't writing she's usually being creatively lazy, rather like her beloved cat Alice but unlike her long suffering, hard-working husband.
Connect with Portia Online
Twitter: http://twitter.com/PortiaDaCosta
Website: http://www.portiadacosta.com
Blog: http://wendyportia.blogspot.com
Delicious Masters
~ when women meet the Doms of their dreams ~
An Appointment with Her Master
Shy, but secretly sexy and imaginative, Mary-Anne Green fantasizes about having her bottom spanked by a stern and powerful master, the beautiful, cultured hero of her wildest dreams. She longs to feel the hand of a dominant man upon her, punishing her flesh, then caressing it to the heights of exquisite pleasure.
It seems that these wild scenarios are destined to remain solely in her imagination, until one day
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