43 Quotes by Felicity Brandon

… Get up against that wall now – let’s see your face against the tiles.”Your voice is little more than a growl and the instruction takes amoment to register. You push me up against the tiles, holding my handsbehind my back.

You are so wet,” you enthuse. “See how much you love to be punished,little one?”“Yes, sir,” I whimper, physically fighting the urge to push myself backonto your finger. I want you inside me so much. I would beg if I thoughtyou’d take pity on me, but I know you. My punishment is far from overyet…

You have chastised me, demeaned me and dismantled me, before bringing me back to life. Who would have thought all of this was possible in a grotty cubicle of the men’s room? You hold me there for some time whilst we both catch our breath. Tentatively I raise one hand from the wall and claw at your dark, luscious hair behind me. I love these tender moments between us just as much as the kinky, depraved ones.

You continue to stare at me for a few seconds, assessing my face, beforeyou lean even closer to me. Your lips graze against mine briefly… Justenough to reassure that you’re not truly upset with me, but are nonethelessquite prepared to have some fun at my expense, and punish me for my poorcommunication skills. Then you take a step back, leaving me flat againstthe wall, tensed and expectant.

It rubs against me, dipping between my hot lips and makes me whimper with yearning. You remove it dramatically and raise it up, out of my eye line, although I imagine that you are inspecting it.“Yes, definitely a slut, aren’t you?”“Yes, sir.” I reply instantly. My voice sounds needy – already.

A sound from upstairs sends my thought process reeling. It’s just a small noise, perhaps the sound of your feet brushing the crimson carpet in the bedroom? It’s not loud or menacing, but it sends a wave of adrenaline crashing through me. You’re on your way!

You land a second strike, this time just on my left cheek. It feels hard already and stings like hell. I imagine the red mark it has left on my behind as I thank you. As the belt catches my right buttock, I squeeze my eyes shut. I know my tears are close. You strike me again and again. You vary the location and the intensity; somehow never letting me settle into a pattern with the pain. I try to keep count in mind, but after fifteen I am lost in the hot, stinging sensation of my behind.

Hmmm,” you muse out loud. Your voice is deep and carnal, a sound which sends new surges of desire rushing to my sex. “These balls are awfully dusty - if only I knew a little slut who was good at polishing balls…

Shall I pour for you madam?” he asks. It is an appropriate question and yet he makes it sound like a scorching proposal…“Mmmm, please,” is all I manage in reply.I watch him filling the crystal flutes one at a time. He is meticulous and seems to deliberately take a long time to complete the job. The room is silent – except, it seems, for the sounds of my excited breathing. “Is there anything else I can do to help you enjoy your stay?” he probes, raising one dark eyebrow ever so slightly...