She trembled and reached for his trousers. They felt cold and scratchy in her hands. “Um, I think I need these off.”
He winked and stood to remove them. “Underwear?”
She saw the large bulge pressing against the fabric and felt her cheeks heat as she nodded.
“Use your words, Jillian,” he growled. “Show me how you dominate.”
“O-Okay.” She swallowed. “Bertram, please take off your, um… everything.”
“Everything?” He raised his eyebrow.
“Yes.”
He drew his shirt over his head, revealing his strong, muscular chest and curly dark hair.
She licked her lips and leaned toward him, wishing she could run her fingers through his curls.
“You can touch whatever you like.” He must have read her mind. “You have my permission.”
She rubbed her palms across his chest and pulled the coarse hairs through her fingers. Feeling suddenly bold, she grabbed a handful of hair and twisted and glared at him. “Take the rest of your clothing off and bend over the bench.”
“Yes, Mistress.” He grinned and removed his last piece of clothing.
His manhood sprang free from its confines, massive and firm, beckoning for her touch. She wanted to feel it, see if it was as smooth as it looked.
He cleared his throat. “What’s your next move, Mistress, watch or play?”
She took a deep breath and calmed herself. She could do this. She would show him she was stronger than she looked. “Over the bench.” She laid out a towel, wondering where exactly he was going to fit all of himself when he bent over the thing.
He lay across the bench and presented his firm, muscular buttocks to her. Oh dear lord, they were tight and firm. She ran her fingers across his naked backside and marveled at the supple smoothness that meshed with the firm musculature of a working man. This man was obviously very active. She squeezed his right cheek and patted him gently, loving the small blush that crept into his skin.
“Are you finished fondling me yet, Mistress?” She heard the teasing in his voice.
“Yes, um what’s your pleasure, Mr. Wolfe?”
“Surprise me.” He leaned further over the bench and relaxed for her.
She picked up the small wooden paddle. Cool and smooth to the touch, its weight seemed perfect to wield. Not too light, not too heavy. Just right. She lifted it into the air and brought it down with a not-so-satisfying, quiet thud.How disappointing.He made no move to notice, so she lifted the paddle higher this time and brought it crashing back down on the same spot, barely leaving a faint pink mark on his perfect skin. It frustrated her.Stepmother made it look so easy!
“If the mistress does not mind me saying so, she is going about it the wrong way,” came his gruff pronouncement.
“Fine! What am I doing wrong then?” She scowled and put her hands on her hips.
He stood up and took the hand with the paddle into his own grasp and rolled her hand gently in circles. He rubbedher wrist until she relaxed her grip. “You have dainty, feminine hands. Your strikes do not come from strength and power but more from the smaller center of mass.”
He turned around and positioned her striking hand against his bottom. He flicked her wrist so she used small strokes up and down against his naked rear end. After 15 strokes, he released her and presented her “efforts” to her.
His right cheek was warm and pink. She felt the heat emanating from the spot she had so easily paddled.
“Wow, that makes a huge difference.” She smiled and noticed something else that had grown quite huge, and she felt the heat creep into her cheeks as her pulse quickened. This man made her feel like no other had before. His strength and commanding presence called to her.
“Your turn.” He pulled on his trousers and took the small implement from her.
“Wh-what?” she stammered and stumbled.Stupid boots.
“I think it’s only fair to let you compare the two, see which you like better.”
“I like being on top.” She thrust out her chin and glared at him. “I’m not weak, and I like being in control, and just because you don’t find me attractive doesn’t mean there aren’t other men that?—”
