The Saga of a Naughty Lady
The Saga of a Naughty Lady
"Hummmm, my sweet," the redheaded wench reached across the sheets feeling that sensuous line from waist to hip-where the fingers get lost as they make their way along the valley to the rise, then drop for a moment to stir a dormant fire-perhaps.
She pulled forward, closer to his back, cradling him with her nakedness.
Such a fine ass! her inner voice exclaimed, as she ran her hand over his hip again and then reached down to tease an erection from his slumbering penis. Morning light through the vine-draped window fluttered against the brocade walls of her boudoir. As the wind outside the window rustled through the arbor of leaves, shadows changed into spaces of pure light then eased back to grey, only to transmute again with another breeze.
She snuggled warm against her lover, noting that his cock had sprung to life, revived by her warm hand and the kisses she placed affectionately on his shoulder.
"Ah, love, you've worn me out," he murmured to her quietly, slowly turning her way.
"You wore me out, fine sir. You should feel my ass, even now it burns."
He pulled her into his arms; so fair and slight, so delicate, so pure of form-and such a randy, bawdy, bratty bitch. He reached around to squeeze her ass.
"If you hadn't been such a rebellious slut, I wouldn't have had to blister it so soundly. You make light of our affair, when any minute it could condemn you."
"If I had a husband who cared, perhaps so. But he'll turn the other cheek should he find out. I'm sure he has some paramour making him happier than I ever have."
"I wouldn't be so sure, milady. I'd err on the side of caution. Your husband is a powerful man. You cannot afford his wrath." They nuzzled together as though they were singing tender love poems in each other's ear.
"And I, sir, am a powerful woman," she purred back to him. "No one can take that from me." Her legs scissored with his as her crotch ground itself into the firm bulge between his thighs.
"You're a foolish, foolhardy woman to think that." His hand was on her breast squeezing the fullness until he could feel her react-face wincing. He let go and she breathed out with a delicious sigh.
He moved his grip back to her ass and squeezed again. "Still sore, you say?"
"Hummm, yes. Shouldn't it be?"
He sneered at her, his black mustache twitching as he remembered the evening before. The picture of her ass over his legs was priceless for a man who'd dallied with this strumpet's dangerous shenanigans the last twelve months. Sometimes, it seemed as if she went out of her way to get caught-though he knew that was unlikely. The price she would pay for her adulterous behavior would be too high for this vain beauty. Regardless of her aristocratic birthright, she could not afford to be too reckless-and she knew that, as well as any woman. Fornication outside marriage was nothing to be toyed with. Loss of title? Public humiliation? That would not be in this lady's repertoire of outrageous fun.
And yet, Prince Tasio often wondered about her careless dance with fate.
When she arrived at their lovenest, she'd taken few pains to disguise herself. Women of her rank did not venture out alone-hardly ever in the light of day, and never in the evening. Yet, she was by herself, cloaked in mink and jewels riding through the streets sidesaddle on her haughty mare, proud as you please. It was no telling how many eyes saw the noble lady, even recognized, Marie Jolie Gabrielle Antoinette.
As soon as she was safely behind the walls of his estate, he'd drawn her over his lap, raised her skirt like a mountain over her head to bare her buttocks, and then spanked her as long and as hard as he could. He reddened her plump cheeks with his hand to start, and because he was so furious with her, he grabbed her hairbrush from her satchel and whaled on her ass and thighs until they were scorc