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Cum for Me, A Taste


Cover 200x300Chapter 8 – The Meeting

Just a taste of my newly published book. Tell me what you think.

 


 

You have commanded my wardrobe; this time you have selected my attire for the day rather than telling me what you would prefer. Where I would have dressed in jeans, you scanned my closet and found a skirt one that skims my hips and grazes my knees, light enough the sun shines through giving a hint of what lies beneath. If a wind catches it, my near nakedness will be revealed as you have directed me to go without panties, again. Silk falls over breasts, covering but hinting at what lies underneath, the hint of a bra that leaves my nipples free to be teased by you or the soft glide of material as I move; this must be part of some grand plan you have. Though both of us love my collection of high-heels, logic wins the day, and I have slipped on ballet flats. The only addition is a gold chain with a bell around my left ankle to match the one still around my waist.

“Let me see you,” you say as I emerge from the closet. “Come on, twirl.”

“Jesus, I twirl this skirt lifts to my hips and shows everything. Let me put on some panties. It is broad daylight.”

“Didn’t you say just a little while ago you were mine to command?”

“Well, yes, but really isn’t this going a bit far? What if something were to happen? What if I was to slip or a wind was to blow my skirt up?”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. That is what grown assed men do. Now twirl, and let’s go.”

I twirl and the skirt lifts right up to my hips as I predicted, coming to a stop in front of you as you lean back in the leather chair with a broad smile on your face I can feel my face heating up, a flush rising from my chest and coloring my cheeks.

“Come here.”

I walk over to where you are seated, stepping between your legs and allowing you to turn me around. You lift my skirt and gently rub where you had previously spanked me in the shower. You leaned down to kiss the imprint your hand had left. Finally, you leave a gentle kiss just above the cleft of my ass. Turning me around, you let my skirt drop and wrap your arms around my waist, pulling me into your lap; it is a gentle embrace.

“Are you afraid?”

“Yes, sometimes I am. You want to own me, heart, mind, body and soul; that is nearly all of me. You don’t want to give that much of yourself, do you?”

“We will talk later. Before this weekend is over, we will talk.”

About Scarlett Baker

Writer, artist and thrill seeker. Scarlett is a mystery, even to herself at times. Her exploration of love stories with a touch of the dark began when she found herself single and dangling by a thread of hope mixed with a splash of the terrible. Faced with being alone for the first time in nearly twenty years, with not a clue what to do with a vast future she decided to explore the world of her fantasies, something she had done little of up until now.

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