Chapter 18 #2
“Your bottom’s gorgeous. Just like the rest of you, my baby. So beautiful.” I rise up behind her, push my sleep pants down to my knees and notch the head of my dick between her legs. “Let me show you how beautiful I think you are.”
“Yes, yes.” She buries her face back in the pillows and arches her back even more.
I take her round cheek in one hand, and a fistful of hair in the other. I fill her with slow strokes. This isn’t about orgasms. This is just about pleasure, and I fuck her with deep strokes, both of us groaning at the sensations.
When she starts to push back at me, demanding more, I slide out of her.
“Oppa, no,” she protests.
I take a firmer grip on her hair and push her head down into the pillow. “Do you take what I give you?”
She growls her little growl and wriggles.
“Bumble, do you take what I give you?”
“Yes!”
“Good girl. Ass up again.”
She repositions herself and I reward her with firm rubs on both cheeks to warm her skin. When they’re both a soft pink, I slap first one, then the other with the flat of my hand.
She jolts. “Ouch, Oppa! I sting you.”
“No, you don’t. You take what I give you.” I roll her over, using my hand in her hair for leverage. She lies on her back, glaring at me, but her face is suffused with pleasure. “Ankles together, legs up.”
“No, I sting you!”
“You don’t, my little bumble bee.”
I slap her round breasts through the soft, cotton onesie. Her body jolts up off the bed. She didn’t expect that. I flatten her to her back with my hand on her throat and grab her ankles when she kicks. Although she’s struggling, there’s no strength behind it. This is play.
Her delicate ankles fit in one hand. I hold them high, then push back toward her chest so her knees are bent.
I’ve read that a spanking in this, the diaper position, hurts more than if her legs were flat.
I don’t put any of my shoulder or back into spanking her, just peppering my palms over her cheeks until they’re glowing.
There’s no sting, just heat. Just the rhythmic connection of skin on skin.
Cynnie’s moaning, panting, wriggling uncontrollably, although she doesn’t try to rip her ankles from my hold.
“Are you enjoying your spanking like a good girl?” I ask as I continue to heat her cheeks, reinforcing the connection between spanking and pleasure.
“Yeth, yeth,” she pants. “Pease don’t stop.”
“I won’t, baby, but I think you need a little lotion on these sweet, pink cheeks.”
“Oh, yeth. Lote-lote-lote.”
I grab the bottle and make a show of leaning over her while I pump lotion into my palms and spread it around.
She moans and tosses her head back and forth when I smooth it onto her hot cheeks.
Even though I’ve released her ankles to grab the lotion, she keeps her legs in the air, ankles crossed, the long muscles in the backs of her legs and calves jumping with each touch.
I rub the lotion in, enjoying the change in temperature as the lotion warms between the planes of our skin.
Her skin, already pillow-soft, silkens. I run my hands over her ass and upper thighs long after the lotion’s rubbed in, just to enjoy that exquisite texture.
I’ve used an unperfumed lotion to avoid any possible reaction with her skin, but the scent of the seashore, fresh and briny, rises between us.
I shuffle forward until I frame her hips with my thighs and rub my cock along her puffy slit, framed between those rosy cheeks.
“Yeth, Oppa, fuck me.”
“No, that’s not how you ask.”
“Fuck me or I sting you.”
“That’s not how you ask, either, you naughty bee.” I tap the head of my cock along her pussy lips. Notch it at the top to push hard against her clit. She moans and thrashes, grabbing her legs behind her knees. Whether she’s doing it consciously or not, she’s holding position perfectly for me.
I reward her by pushing in and giving her several long, slow strokes. She wails. “Oppa! Oppa!”
“Want me to keep going?”
“Yeth! I so close!”
“Then how do you ask?”
“More! More! More!”
“That’s not how you ask, bratty bee.” I thumb her pearly clit but stop thrusting.
She shakes all over, her hands clasping behind her knees, her head thrown back. “Fuck me!” She growls her adorable little growl.
“Last chance,” I warn her.
“Pease! Pease fuck me, Oppa!”
“That’s better. What a good bumble.” I pump in her, rubbing two fingers along either side of her clit, which should help with her orgasm but not overstimulate her so much she needs a break.
I pound her through her orgasm, until I’m dangerously close. We’re both panting, trembling, when I pull out and clap my hand hard against her left cheek.
She shrieks. “Oppa, no! Finish fucking me!”
“I did. You had a nice, deep orgasm. And now we’re going to keep going on this spanking.”
She catches her lower lip in her teeth, straining her head back, as I start spanking again, right, left, right, left, alternating cheeks and hands, until her ass and the backs of her thighs are a deep, puffy red.
“Run your hands over your bottom, baby. Feel how hot your cheeks are. They look so beautiful.”
She lifts her head, spreading her knees and trying to peer between her thighs. Her pretzel position makes me chuckle. She rubs her thighs and ass-cheeks. My amusement fades to a deeper pleasure as I watch expressions chase across her face. Surprise. Wonder. Awe.
“Tell me what you’re feeling, baby,” I whisper.
“Feel like a good girl,” she says, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.
“You are a good girl, baby. This is what good girls get. Warm bottoms and orgasms and a proud, proud Oppa.”
Her wet eyes lift to my face. “You proud of me?”
“So proud. You held position through that without me even asking.”
She glances up at her ankles like she’s surprised to find them over her head. Her face splits into a wild giggle. “I did.”
“Turn over and get your ass in the air. It’s Oppa’s turn.”
“Oppa’s turn to get a red bottom?”
“Oppa’s turn to blow his special lotion all over those hot cheeks.”
That gets me another wild giggle and a baby girl who flips over onto her knees at just short of the speed of light.
I reward her with another orgasm before I pull out and squirt Oppa’s special lotion in thick white ropes across her crimson cheeks. When I’ve got my breath back, I stretch out next to her and lazily rub the sticky spatters into her skin.
She folds her arms under her head and rests her cheek on the pillow of her forearms, watching me with gleaming, dark eyes.
“You not mad at me?”
“Mad at you? Why in the hell would I be mad at you?”
“‘Cause I said I sting you.”
I grin at her and pinch a soft, sticky cheek until she squeaks.
“How about I sting you?”
“You’z did sting me. So good I might not be able to sits tomorrow.”
“I have some T-Relief to put on it before bed. I don’t want you uncomfortable.”
Her face, already flushed a glowing rose, darkens. “Little uncomfortable okay.”
“It is, huh?”
She ducks her face into her arms before peeking back out. “Little reminder’s good. Little sore. Little squirmy. Just like sex in my bottom the next day. So good.”
I grin, thrilled that she likes being reminded of our play.
“I’ll never be mad at you for the things you say to me while we play, baby. Please don’t say you hate me, because that would hurt, even while we’re playing. But that’s a soft limit. If you want to try a really aggressive scene where you hit me and yell that you hate me, we can give it a shot.”
She shakes her head. “Doan like saying that, even in play. Doan like hating things. Hate’s bad.”
I grab a packet of baby-wipes and clean off my hand before stroking her hair away from her face. “Hate is bad. Better to love things. Tell me three things you love.”
“Oppa’s spankings,” she says, sticking a finger up from her crossed arms. “Sex in my bottom. Oppa’s kisses.”
I chuckle. “All Oppa, huh?”
She nods, but her eyes widen and fix on mine. “Too soon to say that word?”
“No, baby, it’s not too soon. I want you to be honest with me about how you feel, even if you think it’s too soon, or too late, or too weird, or too anything. You’re not too much for me, Cynnie. Not in any way.”
“Too much for Daddy Tony and Daddy Isaac. Too needy. Too demanding. Too little.” Her back hitches as her breath catches. “Too much for my family. Too loud. Too in the way. Baachan says I’z a burden.”
“You are not too much for me. I want you loud and in my space. I want you needy and demanding and little. I’d like to try going even littler with you than we have. I want to see everything, baby. I want to know everything. Don’t hold anything back.”
“Nothin’?”
“Nothing.”
“You hold things back from me?”
I swallow hard. “Li-like what?”
“I tell you about my family but you never tell me about yours. You gots family?”
“Not really. Not anymore.”
“You’z never did?”
“I did. My mom wasn’t much of a mom, but I had an Uncle Max.”
“Uncle Max? You’z named after him?”
Smiling, thinking of how he called me “son” and “junior” and teased the racist assholes who looked from him to me and back again in disbelief, I say, “No, but I wish I had been. He was a good man. Better than a dad. He was my best friend and teacher and ass-kicker and priest. He believed in me. Who believes in you, baby?”
She wiggles her mouth back and forth. “No one.”
“Not true. Who believes in you?”
“Papa, a little. He says my work good when I apply myself.”
“Who else believes in you?”
She hides her eyes behind her elbow, then peeps back out. “Oppa?”
“Oppa believes in you.”
She beams and snuggles in. “Three things you love.”
“Forehead kisses.” I give her one. “Hearing you call me ‘Oppa.’ Seeing you in your special, bumble-bee onesie. So fucking cute.”
“All me things.”
“All you things.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “I love how good it feels to have you here, baby. I know you have to go home in the morning, but I love having you here.”
She squirms closer, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Love being here.”