Page 13 of Spicing It Up

She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

Quickly, she rushed to do as he’d bid.

So it was going to happen on the dining table. Not Sir’s usual spot for playing, but maybe their evening in there had got his imagination running. Heat spread over her chest and down to her belly and pussy. The thought of him eating his meal and talking politely whilst imagining her naked and bent over the very table they’d been sat at turned her on. Had he feasted on his steak and decided how he’d position her in a few hours’ time? Tucked into his cheesecake and thought how he’d push ginger into her ass then fuck her??She hoped he’d fuck her. Sometimes he didn’t, he just played with her. There was always pleasure, always an orgasm—sometimes several dotted between spanks and whips and toys that teased—but fucking was her favorite, it made her feel so close to him, part of him, as if their souls were one.

Cassandra took the glasses into the kitchen and set them on the counter. She then tidied away Sarah’s coffee cup and the dessert plates. She wiped the placemats, dried them and stashed them in the cupboard.

The tablecloth was a deep, racing car green and made of thick material. She brushed a few crumbs away and moved the candle from the center to the opposite end to which she was to position herself.

It was time.

She slipped out of the dress, paused briefly to look at the state of the back, then removed her bra.

The house was warm but her skin was hotter. Eagerness to get on with a scene always did that to her. It made her flush with want.

Sir was still tidying, no doubt wiping down the surfaces.

After making sure all the chairs were neat, Cassandra bent double at the end of the table. Her breasts squashed onto the tablecloth and her mound nudged the wood at the end. It was a perfect height, and her legs were straight, her ass high and accessible.

She turned her head to the side. The sound of the dishwasher door slamming shut made her smile and her cheek bunched on the tablecloth.

Not long now.

Sir’s footsteps were loud coming from the kitchen. He was moving around, no doubt collecting the ginger. The tap came on, briefly, then the sound of his shoes on wood got louder.

This was it.

He appeared at the door, his top half still bare, holding the plate with the ginger and her grandmother’s small flowery jug.

She had no idea why he needed that little heirloom for their scene.

“Very good,” he said, giving her an appreciative look.

“Thank you, Sir.”

He placed the ginger next to her face, so that it was only inches away.?The pungent smell instantly wafted toward her, filling her nostrils. It even smelled hot. She stared at it. It wasn’t particularly big, she was sure Sir had a few other butt plugs that he used on her that were longer, wider, but still… It held almost magical qualities, unknown magical qualities.

Sir rubbed his hands over her back and down to her buttocks. He spent some time sweeping over her skin, exploring her contours even though he had done so a thousand times before.

Cassandra had to stop herself from begging him to begin. Just one spank, each buttock, just to get the party started in her nerve endings and to release the first shot of endorphins.

She closed her eyes, and tried to relax into the moment of being adored.

“So sweet,” he murmured. “So pale and soft, and all mine.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You need to trust me more than ever tonight, Cass.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“This is going to be like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.”

“Yes, Sir. I trust you.”

“Good, then we’ll begin.”?He smacked her. Hard and fast, each buttock twice.

Cassandra jerked then sighed into the sting as it flashed over her skin then went deeper, to her muscles.

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