(Continued from Nightcap Part Deux)
Face down on the bed Bethany clenched her bottom tightly enough that, from his vantage point, Best doubted a credit card could slip into the crease. He sunk further into the leather overstuffed chair just inside the door while his wife-less ignoring him than not at all acknowledging his presence-rolled up the sleeves of her blouse.
“I’m going to punish you now, Bethany. You know that don’t you?”
“You deserve it, don’t you?”
“Good. Now”…she lay the cane across Bethany’s bottom and the girl jumped at the touch. “…Present, please…”
Legs still pressed tightly together, she had barely lifted her hips when the first stroke landed hard, cracking a sharp SNAP! at the end of a swooshing, whipping sound. By the muffled groan Best could tell she was biting into a pillow. Her knuckles were no doubt white and trembling with the effort of squeezing the duvet in her fists.
With metronomic pace and precision Rebecca rained stroke after stroke down on the woman’s flinching bottom. Bethany’s clenched rump, as firm and tight as a seal’s back, didn’t so much absorb the blows as repel them-sending the cane bouncing back. Rebecca ratcheted the force higher until each swoosh and snap was accompanied by a muffled yelp, mewl or-in a single case-an unmuffled cry which brought a pause from her tormenter.
“There, there…” the older woman cooed as she patted her tortured bottom gently. She ran her fingers lightly over the raised welts tracing their paths from cheek to cheek paying particular attention to the angriest and reddest of them. “Breathe, darling…” she whispered. “Breathe now…you’re doing very well.” Bethany whimpered at the caresses and allowed her bottom to relax a bit at the woman’s touch. Best, lapping at the bourbon in his glass like a dog that had been run too far, too fast watched motionless. He too had to be reminded to breathe.
His wife, still paying him no mind, lay the cane across the small of the girl’s glistening back. Slowly, she unbuttoned her black and white striped blouse and slipped it off her shoulders. Her small tight breasts clung firmly to her ribs, her nipples, even in the dim light, obviously swollen. Retrieving the cane, she patted the cheek closest to her allowing her fingers to linger at-if not in-the opening crevice before resuming.
The strokes were softer now-some no more than flicks delivered into Bethany’s soft sit spots. “Relax now”, she said soothingly. “Relax and open…” The firm tension in Bethany’s bottom released on command as her cheeks spread in her exposed pose. Now, when the cane contacted her skin it didn’t bounce up as a stick from a drum but instead was absorbed into the lush softness, creating waves and quivers as would a pebble splashing into a still pond.
“Open wider”, Rebecca coaxed softly touching the top of Bethany’s legs with feathery fingertips. She did as she was told, opening and thrusting backward revealing her wet softness framed by striped and reddened buttocks. Instead of cracking into those cheeks, the cane found itself between them, in there flicking from side to side kissing the inside of her thighs and lightly brushing her pussy’s swollen lips.
Bethany’s moaning shifted in tone and timbre, becoming deeper and more rhythmically attuned to the pulses in her own body than to the touches of the cane. Straightening, Rebecca dropped the cane onto the carpet and without turning her eyes from the girl’s undulating hips, unsnapped and unzipped her skirt. It slid unencumbered into a heap on the floor which she stepped daintily out of. Wearing nothing now but her black pumps Rebecca shone glossy and alabaster in the guttering candlelight.
Best brought the glass to his lips to find it empty. Beyond empty, it was dry as if the heat of his hands had steamed away every trace that it once held anything. He held it empty to his lips then brought it back to his lap in a robotic pantomime. He studied his wife’s every move as she knelt on the bed, first one leg then the next. He saw the workings of the muscles in her legs and ample ass as she positioned herself between Bethany’s legs screening him from the young woman altogether. Finally, when Rebecca was where she wanted to be, all he could see of Bethany were her legs sticking backward, flanking his wife as Rebecca slid her knees back, raising her own bottom and dipping her head.
By the movements of his wife’s shoulders, he knew that she was ministering to Bethany’s bruised bottom, kissing every welt and every abrasion, cooling her burning skin with her wet soft tongue. Rebecca slid back further still until she was reclining on her side-cheek to cheek as it were-and he was able to see Bethany’s glistening bottom pebbled with goosflesh, moving to his wife’s rhythms. He heard the gasp when Rebecca’s fingers slid into the sweet wetness of the younger woman’s pussy then the moan when she pushed her thumb into her tight asshole.
Bethany’s ecstatic crawl now was not to escape the cane but to improve the angle and widen the openings behind. Rebecca really didn’t need the help. She shifted back to her knees and pulled her fingers out to an accompanying whine only to replace them with her tongue. No more for gentle ministrations it was now an attacking snake plunging deeper into the Bethany’s pussy to find and ravish her clit. Rebecca’s arms reached under the girl and pulled her closer, tighter, closing her mouth over the woman’s bucking, sopping opening to drink as much of her sweet, spunky nectar as she could.
Bethany’s moans had morphed into coughs and barks when Best rose stiffly to his feet. He slipped quietly from the room and down the hallway turning the warm glass round and round in his hand. The sound of the lovemaking grew louder the further he got from the door. It wouldn’t be long now.
He was on the third step down, feeling the grain in the polished oak banister, when Bethany’s voice bloomed into an unfettered wail that filled every corner of the house as no music ever could. He imagined the draperies ruffling in its wake and candles being snuffed out. It was, Franklin Best thought, the sweetest sound on earth.