by Theda Hudson
She looked back over her shoulder and I groaned hard. Her face bore the marks of her struggle and I wanted to hold her, comfort her, but knew that the moment I held her I would want to fuck her.
I mastered myself and reached out, pulling on the thong, forcing it down her thighs so that she stood open to me. The image, the dress shredded, thong around her thighs, her hands upon the wall was nearly too much for me.
She shivered as I slipped my hand between her thighs, and she jumped, even knowing it was coming. She was hot and more than moist, slick as I slipped a questing finger across that clenching mouth, between the lips that shrouded her clit.
She arched her back and groaned. I took that as permission to press upon the button that rose up under my fingers.
"Stop. I cannot, this is impossible," she cried.
I paused, but remembered that she knew her safe words and had not uttered them. Perhaps this was a last effort to deny what we did and yet, urge me on.
Her back arched harder and her hips trembled, trying to stay still, yet rocking to the rhythm I inspired. Pinching the lips, I felt her press down upon my hand, that mouth puckering moistly. I slipped one finger, then two into that mouth and she arched harder, rocked faster.
Her fingers splayed against the wall and I could see muscles cord on her arms. Her face was pressed to the wall, her mouth twisted as she gritted her teeth against the exquisite pleasure she felt.
She was ready. I unzipped and pulled out my cock. It felt like wood, like oak, as big as a baseball bat, and I was going to grab her by the hips and shove the length of it into her.
Hurriedly, I pulled the condom out, tore the package, and rolled it down, wishing that I could dispense with this. But she insisted, saying that only her husband would have unfettered access to her.
Perhaps, I thought, I would claim that right one day.
Then I obliged her, holding her hips and fitting myself to her. She was slick and hot and I pressed myself deeply into her. I could feel the muscles of her pussy squeezing against me, pushing me out even as they held me tightly.
I stroked, feeling the G-String against my legs, and she groaned. Pulling the paddle back out of my pocket, I rubbed the fur along her thigh, then flipped it over and began gently flapping the leather side along her flesh, up to her thigh. Lightly, I slapped her with it as I fucked her, each strike corresponding to my strokes. Her cries began to echo that rhythm.
"Ung," she said. "Stop, you must stop. I can't bear it, I can't do this," she cried.
I only stroked harder and she cried, "No, Mr. Twist. No, I can't, it's too much." Then she shoved her fist to her mouth and bent over further, giving me better access. I used it, pulling on her hip while holding the paddle, and gripped the mass of glorious hair, and rode her like I was a jockey on the final stretch.
I felt her pleasure rise up, her snatch gripping my cock, squeezing hard enough that I had to work to keep her from forcing me out. Her groans leaked out around her fist and she chuffed and met each stroke with one of her own.
Then she cried out, a long wail, that sounded forlorn and desperate and triumphant all at once. I felt her come, felt the juices flow and bubble out around my cock.
I bore down and let everything go. When my shudders slowed, I pulled out, kissed the nape of her neck, her shoulders, whispering, "You are truly Cara Mia, my beautiful, beautiful woman."
"Thank you, Mr. Twist. Thank you," she said, her voice hoarse.
"Stay there," I said. I removed the condom, gathered up the blanket, the food, and two bottles of water. Returning with the mat, I pulled the thong up into place, wrapped her in the blanket and sat, letting her down onto my lap as I leaned against the cool wall, cuddling and rocking her as she drank.
I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. After a while, her eyes closed and she drowsed. I watched her and then closed my eyes.
Chapter 13
I must have dozed because I woke when she moved. I fed her strawberries and grapes, and chunks of cheese, followed by water crackers. We shared that feast and laughed at nothing, nuzzling and kissing each other between bites.
"I don't know about you, Mr. Twist, but I have to pee."
"Good enough, Cara Mia. You can change your clothes and we will go and find a bathroom."
"Then you'll take me home?"
"I'll take you home."
"Will you stay with me?"
I hoped that was an invitation to have her again. "Yes, I'll stay with you for as long as you like."
"Good enough, Mr. Twist."
She unwrapped herself and stood. I folded the blanket and gathered up everything while she pulled the clothes out of the bag, stripped off the remains of the dress, and folded it neatly.
"You have excellent taste, Mr. Twist," she said, twirling to show off the charcoal skinny pants and pale pink silk shell that I had packed. "And forethought," she added, slipping on the ballet flats.
I reached for the dress, but she shook her head, tucking it up under her arm.
That was interesting, I thought, as I put on my jacket and laid the pashmina over her shoulders. What would she do with the ruined dress?
I offered my arm and she took it, leaning in close, and squeezing tightly.
Master Louis nodded at both of us as we passed him. She pulled off the domino when the doors to the elevator closed.
Turning to me she grinned wickedly. "I hope you have a lot of money for the symphony fund, Luiz."
"However much, it will be completely worth it, Tasha."
She giggled and I chuckled, my heart light, our steps clicking in time as we walked off the elevator. I reached for the domino, but she shook her head, tucking it into the folds of the tattered dress.
"I think I'll keep this. Mr. Twist might call again and Cara Mia ought to be ready, don't you think?"
I pulled her to me and kissed her deeply. "I do, Tasha, I certainly do."
About the Author
Theda Hudson's deliciously wicked short fiction has appeared in Best Lesbian Erotica 2011 and 2015, Best Lesbian Romance 2011 and 2012, Best Women's Erotica 2007, Sex in San Francisco, Pirate Booty, and Best S/M III. Her novels include Dyke Valiant, an erotic lesbian urban paranormal, and The Pearl Witch and Lord of the Broken Tower, both hetero erotic science fiction. She lives in Colorado with four rescued cats, 1000 books, and an understanding partner. She likes to use her writing to share things women don’t usually get to talk about. You can find more about her at http://www.thedahudson.com
Authors careers depend on reviews. Please consider leaving an honest review of this story.
And if you liked this story, please go to www.thedahudson.com and sign up for her newsletter so that you can receive announcements of upcoming work.
Other Works by Theda Hudson
The Pearl Witch
Lord of the Broken Tower
