Driven Wild by Jaye Peaches Page A

something passionate and romantic.
    Slowly, she bent over and began to unzip her leather boots. Peeling them off, she removed her stockings, hat, and scarf and placed them on the table, next to the little shilling. She came to her knickers and paused, looking over to Rick, still resting on the edge of the stage.
    “Please, will you take them off?” she asked politely.
    Rick smiled and tapped the edge of the stage. “Over here.”
    She tiptoed towards the wooden platform and began to lean over. It was sufficiently high that she didn’t have to bend more than ninety degrees and as she bent, her skirt rose up. His fingers slipped off her knickers, letting them slink down her calves and, crouching down, he eased them around her feet.
    She could feel his warm breath on the soles of her feet, and a gentle caress of his hand followed, travelling up her legs towards her skirt. He lifted the hem high and out of the way, and once again she bared her bottom for him.
    “How wet is the towel?”
    “Wet enough,” he said vaguely.
    “How many?”
    “I think this time, we should see how many you can take,” he said evasively. “Push your bottom out more.” His tone sharpened, as did her breathing.
    Her legs wobbled, waiting for the slap of the towel. He flicked it a few times in the air. No more than a foot in length, it twirled itself into a twist of chequered fabric, a mix of blues and whites.
    It was a whipping, she realised, as the first few swipes landed on her bottom. The damp towel snapped over her cheeks, landing in quick succession. Rick had quickly mastered the art of flicking the towel with his wrist, as if he was aiming for a smaller object than her butt. It stung terribly, forcing her to hop on her feet.
    Tears smarted as he continued to aim at the crease between her upper thigh and buttocks. The noise sounded just like whip, with a swish of air and then a strident snap as it made contact with her beleaguered flesh.
    After a dozen, Rick stopped and made an inspection. He rubbed down her cheeks, tempering the furnace that he had lit and then to her incredulity, he slid his finger down, over her little puckered bud and then between her folds and into her slit.
    He didn’t comment on her overt wetness, her readiness for something more than a spanking. “Another dozen should do it.”
    Now, his intentions confused her. Would it complete the punishment or make her ready for something else? The next twelve jolted her back into the here and now. Shrieking, she wriggled and kicked her legs. Long strands of hair dangled down past her face, sweeping the surface of the stage as she shook her head.
    The last flick and rotation of his wrist, the final swat of wet fabric whipped across her inflamed rump and then he tossed the towel onto the stage by her head.
    “Well done,” he said, “but don’t get up.” His hand nudged her back down and he moved directly behind her. Leah, resuming her humiliating pose, peered down through the strands of hair, noticing her fingers had left clammy prints on the dusty wooden platform.
    Breathing rapidly, she heard him move; he had crouched down to inspect her once again. Starting at the base of her spine, steady thumbs traced the curvature of her bottom, slid between her buttocks, carefully parting her, seeking and probing her flaunted pussy. She pictured her pink puffed lips, his thumbs delving between them, separating and examining her wetness, the image framed by two blushed buttocks. Rick emitted a murmur. A deep purr, like a primal sound of delight. Without thinking, Leah clenched, capturing his penetrating thumbs. In response to her reaction, the noise from behind her deepened.
    Seeing his actions in her head wasn’t necessary any longer; she could feel the liquid arousal dripping out of her. The seconds ticked by and she could barely stay on her feet as he combined his digital exploration with stroking the heat out of her globes.
    Suddenly, Rick lifted his hands off her, rose and