Her Stern Gentleman

by Tabitha Rayne

Lizzie smiles again now at the wonderful memory and glances over to the door, just to make sure she hasn’t locked it. She hopes he’ll notice again even though her bottom still protests when she sits on the hard kitchen chairs. She’d checked in the mirror to see the beautiful purple bloom across her skin. She has never felt so contented.

  She drifts into a peaceful doze.

  * * *

  James whistles a tune he doesn’t know as he bounces up the stairs to their apartment—he is sure it would be called a flat back home but something about the word makes their one-bedroom home sound exotic and far more than it is. He puts his key in the door and tuts to find it already unlocked. He’s suddenly miffed; Lizzie knows he likes to have her secure while he’s out. She certainly knows after the spanking he gave her for this very thing only very recently. His palms tingle in delight when he remembers the scene. She’d taken one hell of a spanking for her misdemeanour. He’ll have to take this up with her right away.

  Something about the way the apartment is so quiet when he goes in makes him turn silent, practically holding his breath as he tiptoes over the threshold. Is she even here? The living room/kitchen is deserted, but he can smell bubble bath and warmth so he relaxes a little as he goes to the bedroom.

  He’s about to give her a piece of his mind about security when he sees her asleep and sprawled on the bed, languid as a cat in the sun. The rays catch the tiny hairs on her flesh and glow like a halo over her whole body. Her chest is gently rising and falling and he could sob with the beauty of her. She is perfect. He loves the way one arm is raised up into the pillow, her head nestling into her own shoulder as her other hand rests gently on her mound. His cock stirs as he thinks of her taking her pleasure in the sun. He wants to leap upon her and thrust himself deep into her sleeping body but he pauses, mouth watering, as he thinks of a better way to wake her up.

  He dips down and crawls on all fours to the other side of the bed, positioning himself in between her feet. He can’t believe he didn’t notice the large towel wrapped around her skinny leg. He checks himself, she’d hate that word. Slender, that’s better. He chuckles softly to himself imaging her getting tangled up in the towel, trying to kick it off and giving up, her temper getting the better of her. He loves this complex woman. So full of surprises. He gently unwraps the towel to reveal the long graze. He knows immediately what has happened and tuts. She has no need to be doing that. He takes her heel in his hands and begins to kiss the wound from the bottom to the top and keeps going up to her knee, then thigh, savouring the gentle down that still remains.

  He is greedy for her sleeping cunt now. She twists her hips and moans as he parts her upper thighs, spreading her lips and bringing his mouth to them. Oh, how her fragrance has him squirming—a hungry man about to devour a feast. He tries to take it slow so that she wakes gently, without bucking in fright and kicking him in the head or something. He pushes his tongue into her curls at the top of her pussy, just above her clitoris. Oh, that place, that place where her pheromones gather to drive him wild. Her hand, which had slipped to the side of her hip, now creeps up to his hair and draws him closer to her. She tips her pelvis and begins to undulate her hips, an invitation for him to begin. He dips down and draws his tongue from her perineum up past her vagina, resisting the urge to delve inside and in one long lap reaches her clit and keeps going up past the hood and nibbles the curls at the top again, nuzzling and kissing there. She is getting frustrated and her hips thrust a little more urgently and her fingers fist into his hair. Oh, her arousal turns him on and his erection presses hard into his trousers. He reaches down and undoes his flies, pulling out his cock to take himself in hand.

  She is slippery wet now and he relents, licking the desperate knot of nerve endings at her clit. She shudders and he is sure she is awake now. He flicks his eyes up to meet hers and she smiles, then drops her head back into the pillows and spreads her legs wider. He responds by pushing two fingers hard into her heat and she groans from her throat—a sound of feral desire that makes his cock spasm.

  He’s pulling himself off in time to his tonguing of her clit and delving his fingers into her clutching hole. It is so hot and needy for him, it’s not long before her head is thrashing from side to side on the pillows and her legs are curling around his head, thrusting him tighter to her. He loves this moment but it terrifies him slightly—her orgasm is so strong and all consuming, he struggles to keep pace, his face and mouth jammed to her cunt while it gushes over his fingers and hands. His cock is ready to explode but he has to break free from his stroking to help keep his breath from being swallowed up in her climax. Forcing his hand in between her pussy and his nose, he takes a breath. He loves this feral abandon—he loves that she actually lets go and goes wild with her pleasure. He could never tell her though, she would simply stop and retreat. Whilst she is growing in her self-expression and sexual confidence, he knows it is a fragile and delicate thing, to be nurtured carefully, and ferociously at times, but always with the mindfulness that it could be fleeting. She is still spasming but her muscles have relaxed and she releases the tight grip around his head. He pauses before lifting his face to look at her. Both arms are up above her head and she is smiling, eyes closed, fully sated and relaxed. Good, good, he thinks, and lets his focus fall to his raging hard-on, which is now demanding attention.

  He is about to start fisting his cock when a long slow moan escapes his lover and brings his thoughts back to her grazed leg. He pulls out from between her thighs and her legs flop open on the bed, revealing her ruby red pout nestled in her sodden curls. A sudden image flashes into his mind.

  “So you were going to shave your legs for me, were you, my Lizzie?” he asks gently, but she turns bright red and starts to reach down for the towel to cover her wound. He puts his hand on her arm to stop her and smiles.

  “Well,” she smiles shyly but she’s not looking quite so embarrassed anymore. “I tried…” She starts to giggle and he is warmed through.

  He feels a role coming to him. It turns him on to think it.

  “What else were you going to shave, Lizzie?” he asks, looking directly at her cunt.

  Again she turns red, her eyes widening.

  “I, I… well, no I…” she stutters but he can see a gleam of naughtiness come over her.

  “Lizzie, I’m going to shave you now.” His cock is so hard now as he stands and strips naked. She just stares, eyes wide. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  She nods, looking from his mouth to his cock. Her thighs spread a little further showing beyond a doubt that she does understand, well.

  He goes to get his good razor. The straight razor and strop. She lifts herself up on her elbows and murmurs something. He casts her a glance and looks down. Submissive. James’ mind is whirring. The images in his mind feel so at odds with the protective love he feels for this woman but the longing he sees and the arousal he feels make him press on. He will shave her. He will shave her then spank her soundly for damaging herself. He almost comes at the thought of her striped red buttocks and bare cunt dripping all over his stinging hands.

  * * *

  Lizzie is trembling. She can smell their mixed arousal permeating the sun-drenched room. The atmosphere is thick and almost sordid with the haze of sex around them. She is dizzy with anticipation of James approaching with the razor to her delicate folds. It is beyond thrilling that he simply stated he was going to do it—making her realise in that instant that it was exactly what she wanted him to do. It’s like magic. He knows her better than she knows herself right now. The love she feels is almost painful. Her cunt is clutching and dripping and she fights hard not to close her legs in shame. Why should she be ashamed? He’s not. He stands at her feet, tall, mighty, cock hard and proud, standing straight, showing her how much he wants this. Why should she feel anything other than joy that her own sex is displaying equal intent? Internal dialogue satisfied, she obeys his command to scoot down to the edge of the bed and raise her buttocks slightly so he
can place a towel beneath them. Then she settles back onto her elbows in the perfect position to watch.

  He is rhythmically drawing the razor back and forth along the strop. It is hypnotic and sexy as fuck. He runs his fingertip across the edge of the blade and, satisfied it is sharp enough, places it on the chest of drawers and reaches for the soap and brush.

  He lathers the bristles in the exact way she had in the bath, up and down, swirling suggestively at the phallic soap. She can see a smile flirt at the edge of his lips as he kneels before her. She smiles too, a shiver crossing her shoulders as he blows on her pussy to part the damp curls away from her inner flesh. It is cool and welcome in the heat of the apartment.

  He dips in, brush poised. His eyes flicker up to hers for the briefest of moments and she smiles quickly to let him know she’s ok with it. He focusses back onto her sex. Lizzie thinks about how far they’ve come in a few short weeks, how their marriage is almost unrecognisable—or more accurately, she is unrecognisable. She is hot now, hot and fulfilled.

  She winces as he daubs the warm foam into her pubic hair, tentatively at first then rubs deep into the thicket of her pelt. It makes a soapy sudsy sound that makes her want to giggle, but he has such an intent look of concentration, she thinks better of it. When her mound is a creamy mountain of foam, James wipes his hands and reaches for the razor. It glints in the sun and Lizzie tries her best to still her suddenly trembling body.

  “Shh,” he soothes, squeezing her thigh. “I’m an expert, remember? I’d never let anything happen to you, my beloved.”

  Focussing hard on relaxing her shoulders, she sinks deeper into the mattress, becoming aware of the mirror behind him, which gives the perfect view of the action.

  He starts at the top, carefully swiping away the foam to reveal a smooth path. It is erotic to watch the sinews twitching in his forearms—displaying strength and control in equal measure. She holds her breath as her naked flesh is revealed and the blade travels closer to her labia. The instinct to close her legs is immense but she holds fast and he pushes her right thigh out even further, stretching the skin taught at her entrance.

  The contrast of the cool sharp blade against soft skin makes her clit throb with desire. Watching him give his full attention to her pussy makes her yearn from the pit of her soul.

  She twitches as the blade grazes her labia and he sucks air through his teeth, leaning in to inspect any damage. There seems to be none and he continues, rinsing the foam and dark hairs in a basin by his side. Lizzie isn’t too keen on looking in there. Hair removed, James dabs her bare pussy with a towel, taking care to wipe any remaining soap away. It had been erotic but she’s glad it’s now over; she lifts herself up but he presses her sternum, forcing her back on the bed.

  “We’re not finished yet, young lady,” he says, pushing her knees up and grasping her thighs to pull her even further down the bed until her arse is hanging almost right off the edge. “Hold your knees up and apart,” he says and Lizzie does.

  This is a very thorough job, she thinks and when she peeks at the mirror, her cheeks flare with the explicit scene. Her pussy is splayed wide open for her blade-wielding husband and he parts her further with one hand to get to the remaining hairs around her perineum and anus. The foam bristles tickle her ring of muscles and she flinches. He swirls the brush again right over her bottom, pressing quite hard. Lizzie is astonished to find herself turned on by the action and imagining it is his tongue dipping into that intensely private space.

  The blade flicked open once more, James sets to work, more swiftly this time, removing the last stray hairs and wiping her down.

  He rinses her with some clean water then stands back to admire his creation.

  “And I thought you couldn’t be any more beautiful.”

  Lizzie lets her legs fall open and looks at the sight before her. It is her body, but not. It’s raw and stark and somehow very rude. She isn’t sure she likes it. The bed dips as James crawls up beside her, cupping her naked cunt in one hand as he does.

  “Mmm, feels good enough to eat,” he says, easily sliding a finger inside and massaging her. “Would you like that?”

  Lizzie nods, feeling exposed and slippery.

  “Well, you’ll have to wait.”

  He gets off the bed and flips her onto her stomach, dragging her down so her knees almost touch the floor. Lizzie is shocked. She isn’t quite sure what’s going on.

  “First, you need to be punished for damaging my precious property.”

  Ahh, so this is how he is going to play. He reaches down and runs a finger up her shaving wound, sending a thrill of pain and arousal right through her.

  “Lift yourself up so I can see that arse of yours properly.”

  Lizzie obeys, pushing up onto her toes and pressing her face and chest into the bed. It feels sublime and naughty and right and wrong. Her cunt is twitching and ready for whatever he will give it.

  When the first smack comes, it knocks the breath from her throat. It takes a few moments for her to even feel the next three, which rain down in quick succession. Oh, but she soon does feel them. His huge flat palm spanks her soundly and rhythmically, making her cheeks wobble and her hips sway.

  “Keep still,” he says, grabbing her hip to steady her without breaking a beat. Pain sears through her flesh and she almost sobs with it, heat rising. He keeps striking slightly harder each time and in different places so no part of her ass has been missed. She relishes the pain at the point just under her buttocks where they join her thighs; it feels sublime, stinging, and glorious. She yelps as his palm thwacks right across both cheeks, sending a puff off air onto her pussy. She lifts her rump for more, winding her hips to find a stray fingertip. But still he teases. Sweat breaks out over her back and shoulders and the tops of her thighs, or maybe that was her desire running down her legs.

  “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” she mutters under her breath. Spreading her feet apart, she almost weeps when the smacking suddenly stops and at least two fingers thrust deep into her yearning cunt. Oh, how open and ready she is, a slippery hot mess, her pussy pouting and gaping to be filled by her mate.

  “Oh, harder, harder, you fucker, fuck me, fuck me with your big fucking baker’s hands. Knead my flesh.” She feels a stretch and burn at the entrance of her cunt as he tries to force in another finger, she wants it. She wants it all. He grunts—it must be too much of a sight—and pulls out his fingers to replace them swiftly with his cockhead.

  “Oh, yes, fuck me, James, fuck me hard.”

  And he does. He plunges deep into her soaking hole and she clutches and spasms around him, trying to hold him in. Her clit is buzzing with arousal and she reaches down through her legs to finger herself there but he stops her.

  “But James, I’m so close,” she wails and he withdraws, pushing her hand away. She feels empty and bereft. This is punishment indeed. She could weep as furious frustration begins to build. How dare he!

  She pushes up onto her elbows to give him a piece of her mind when a sudden ferocious lapping at her cunt has her melting anew. Well, this was a different position. His nose must be dipping into her entrance, she thinks, judging by where his tongue is now flicking. She is writhing with desire now, a pool of heat and sex juice. She’s on the brink but he teases her once more, drawing his long tongue from her clit all the way up to her asshole and swirling it there, jabbing her with the point then lapping smoothly. She wants him to penetrate her but doesn’t know if her body will let him. He does it again, like a tiny battering ram, more insistent this time until he breaches her just a little. Her body feels like it has just been launched into space and she hangs in the giddy void, breath held for what might come next. Fingers, fingers are stuffed hard into her pussy as he laps and feasts and his thumb reaches for her clit. In an instant the wave that had built and crested now crashes out in a flurry of fucks and raw feral growling. Lizzie pours her climax all over her husband and he keeps plunging his fingers in and out, thrusting until she screams at him to
stop.

  He releases her, a shuddering mess, then shoves his cock deep inside her, fucking with all his power. He is shaking all over too, Lizzie can feel it, then she feels pressure at her anus again as he thrusts. He pushes his thumb in the tiniest of ways then roars, the familiar twitch and surge overtakes him and he collapses on top of her, breathing hard and sweating like a fevered man.

  Chapter Eight

  Lizzie wakes from their post-coital doze, soaked with sweat where their bodies touch. She is on her back with one leg draped over him, the other open wide to the side. Unguarded and spread open, she is at ease and warm; she wonders what her life might have been like if she’d always been hot. Her naked pussy feels strange though; she’s not sure she likes it. It feels unsafe and stark, desensitised almost, where the slightest breeze would have ruffled her hair, sending sensations through her, now there is just bareness. She slips her hand down and cups herself; it feels like a gap, an expanse of skin. She always thought of her sex neatly tucked away and private but this feels exposed and shouting for attention. She misses the feeling of her muff between her fingers as they now skate over the chicken-plucked flesh, the stubbly blunt ends beginning to poke and jag already.

  No, she decides, this is not her thing at all. She hopes it will grow back in soon.

  The clock in the living room strikes eight. They’ve been asleep for hours. Her stomach rumbles as she prods James, pushing him back and forth by the shoulder.

  “Sweetheart, get up.” As she looks at the white dress James has hung out for her to wear tonight, a thrill shivers down her spine. Oh, how she loves that he is taking control, telling her what to wear. He’s embraced this new role and how. She wonders what shade of lipstick he’ll choose for her tonight, though she has no doubt it will be the pillar box red. Men were never subtle when it came to lips. She couldn’t remember wearing the peach at all since they’d disembarked the ship.