Turning Up the Heat. Ashley Lister
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asked any of those models to prepare a meal for me by six-thirty, I’d have been eating my meal at six-thirty.’
His hand fell to her backside. He clutched one buttock and squeezed with only a little more force than was necessary. Trudy stiffened. She wanted to melt for him. Studiously, she remained focused on her task of prepping the other vegetables that would be served al dente to accompany the kale.
‘I’m sorry for miscalculating the times, Mr Hart.’
‘Sorry doesn’t put the meal on the table, does it?’
‘If you think I need punishing,’ she began. She had to pause because the idea left her breathless. Steadying herself, concentrating on the words so that she delivered them without stumbling, Trudy said, ‘If you think I need punishing, I’ll make myself available for your discipline, Mr Hart.’
He chuckled and placed an arm around her waist.
She was sensitive to the fact that his fingers were now lingering over the waistband of her trousers. It would only take the smallest of actions and he could unfasten them and leave her standing half-naked and completely vulnerable.
The idea made her shiver.
‘Perhaps I’m the one who needs punishing?’ he suggested.
‘Mr Hart?’
‘You saw me at front of house,’ he reminded her. ‘I had my hands on half a dozen attractive women. They were all topless. Surely, under our agreement of what’s allowed within our relationship, that’s not acceptable, is it?’
‘Under the terms of our agreement, Mr Hart,’ she returned, ‘whatever you deem to be acceptable is acceptable.’
‘Good answer.’
He chuckled and kissed the nape of her neck. His hands remained on the waistband of her trousers.
She was acutely conscious of his nearness and it made her need for him swell. If she closed her eyes, Trudy knew she would be overcome by a dizzying array of images reminding her of all the pleasures and thrills they had shared since first meeting.
She didn’t dare close her eyes.
She was already too excited by his nearness.
‘How long until the steaks are ready?’
She checked the curly kale, still looking verdant and fresh in the steamer. ‘We have five minutes until that’s done. I can plate up everything else to serve at the same time.’
‘In that case,’ he began, whispering the words into the shell of her ear, ‘I just have enough time to discipline you.’
The fingers at her waist unfastened the clasp on her trousers. As soon as he had unzipped them they puddled at her ankles. Trudy didn’t bother trying to look shocked. This was what she had been waiting for all day. She tried to blink the shine of excitement from her eyes as she glanced up into his stern, forbidding features.
‘I’m sorry your meal wasn’t ready for six-thirty,’ she mumbled.
‘Fifteen minutes late,’ Bill grumbled. ‘That’s fifteen kisses from the wooden spoon.’
The inner muscles of her sex trembled with excitement. She bent over the workstation where she’d been preparing their meal and held herself ready for him. His fingers fell to her panties. With infinite care, he began to draw them away from her skin. He slid them slowly over her cheeks and down her legs. The cotton lazily caressed her flesh as it was pulled down towards her ankles.
She was immediately conscious of being exposed.
The room’s air was cool against the bared secrets of her sex. She wanted to shiver but she didn’t know if that was because of the chill or because she felt defenceless. Her heartbeat raced at a quick, excited thump.
‘Fifteen,’ he promised. ‘Count them.’
He slapped the bowl of the wooden spoon smartly against the left cheek of her backside.
The punishment had begun. Trudy wanted to moan with relief. This was what she had been craving all day.
The punishment was not so severe that it genuinely hurt. It was a thrill of intimate contact that always left her giddy with heightened arousal. He struck the spoon repeatedly against her buttocks, first the left cheek then the right, waiting to hear her count the number of the stroke before proceeding to deliver the next blow.
Each kiss from the bowl of the spoon left her momentarily shocked.
The shock was quickly replaced by a melting heat.
And then the heat began to spread and warm her sex. Before the awakening desire could grow to an unbearable heat, Bill delivered another blow, stilling her warmth with the shock, and exacerbating her growing need for him.
‘… five …’
Smack!
‘… six …’
Smack!
‘… seven …’
Smack!
She counted the numbers with a raspy breathlessness. Her nipples stood hard inside her bra. Excitement made the heat of her sex feel fluid and desperate.
He increased the force of each blow a little more each time.
And Trudy spat out the numbers with passionate urgency. She was desperate for him to give her the satisfaction she craved and she knew it would only come if he struck repeatedly and with more force.
‘… twelve …’
Smack!
‘… thirteen …’
Smack!
‘… fourteen …’
He paused before delivering the last blow.
She quivered eagerly, dreading the sting of discomfort and desperate to feel its bite against her cheek. When it landed she wanted to moan but she couldn’t decide whether the sound would be born out of disappointment or relief. A blossoming fire of heat ran through her buttocks. It seared a tingling line against her wetness. And she could feel herself teetering on the brink of a climax.
Bill stepped close to her.
He was so near she could detect the citrus notes of his cologne. She could hear the light rasp of his breathing and knew he shared her arousal. She expected to feel the weight of his hardness pressing against her. Almost willing him to take her, she parted her thighs slightly and prepared for his touch.
He slipped a finger against the open split of her sex.
Tremors of raw need bristled through her body.
She thought it wouldn’t take much more than a casual caress of her clitoris and he’d have wrung the orgasm from her. As the finger slipped easily into her sex, lightly pushing between her labia and sending her close to a screaming shriek of release, Trudy knew she was no longer teetering on the brink of a climax. She was about to enjoy the delicious fall into the bliss of the orgasm.
Bill snatched his hand away.
‘You’re very wet,’ he noted.
He tutted softly, almost as though he disapproved of her body’s response. And then he was walking away, returning to the front of house, she guessed. Over his shoulder he called, ‘We should have that steak you’ve prepared. I’ve worked up quite an appetite. I’ll be on table thirteen when you’re ready.’
She remained bent over the station for a moment, struggling to control her breath and not knowing whether she should be furious that he had aroused her and left her unfulfilled or grateful that he had taken the time to excite her so she could enjoy the thrill of wanting him for the remainder of the evening.
She swallowed, shook her head and realised she was smiling.
Dutifully, Trudy served