Page 47 of Taming Seraphine

I stroke her ass cheeks, soothing her reddened skin. Heat radiates from her flesh, and her pussy is even wetter. My index finger slides close to her folds, and she trembles. It would be so easy to slip into her slick heat, to circle her swollen clit until her cries reached a delicious crescendo. I remind myself that this is a punishment.

By the end of this spanking, Seraphine will regret her transgressions.

The next spank is equally harsh, and her legs move further apart. The corner of my lips lift.

She wants me to play with her pussy.

“Two,” she says with a breathy moan.

As I soothe the sting with my palm, her hips lift, confirming my suspicions. Ignoring the sweet temptation, I deliver another swat that makes her gasp.

“Three.”

The fourth spank lands lower down on her buttocks, where they meet her pussy. I make sure the sting reaches her where she needs my touch the most.

“Oh,” she says through a gasp. “Four.”

I stroke her ass, finding pleasure in her trembling frame. For a woman who claims to have never had an orgasm, she’s dangerously close to the edge. It would only take a few quick touches to bring her to a shuddering climax.

As my fingers graze the few inches of flesh closest to her wetness, she moves into my touch.

“Please,” she whispers.

“Please, what?” I ask, enjoying the sound of her pleas. “Tell me what you want.”

“Touch me,” she says, her sweet voice sounding like molten sin. “I need you.”

I slide my knuckles down her spine, eliciting a delicious moan. Seraphine’s back arches, and the sight is beyond tempting.

As much as I want to tease her to orgasm, she needs to learn the consequences of her misbehavior, but that doesn’t stop me from sliding my fingers through her slick folds. When I reach her swollen bud, I caress it with the gentlest of strokes.

“This is your clit.” I lean into her, my voice deepening. “Feel how I’m circling it with my finger?”

Her hips buck, and she releases a moan.

“You like that, little Seraphine?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“I’m going to shackle your wrists in one of the leather items we bought, alright?”

“A-alright,” she replies with a groan.

I reach over to the bed and grab the arm restraints. Seraphine probably thinks I’ll cuff her and continue teasing that sweet little bud until she orgasms, but she would be wrong.

Grabbing her wrist, I guide her hand through a soft leather cuff that’s attached to another with a thick piece of the same material. The device is a separation arm binder, which will keep her in place for longer periods of time with minimal strain.

Seraphine moans, her hips wiggling from side to side. I shake my head. She’s a deadly delight.

As I slip her second arm through the binder, she offers little resistance, so bent on achieving her first climax. I tighten each strap, checking in with her that she’s comfortable, and lift her off my lap.

She stands at my side, her cheeks flushed, her pretty lips parted and red. I keep my eyes on her face, though I suspect her nipples are erect.

“Lie face-down on the bed and spread your legs,” I say.

Without another word, she scrambles onto the mattress.

I run my fingers down her back, loving how my touches elicit a shudder.

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