That crack! of hand on asscheek is a beautiful sound. It was even more beautiful to hear it now, with him, here, naked in my lap. My arm burning deliciously, each muscle in isolation tortured but together singing. That little ughh sound he made, so masculine but helpless nonetheless, after each swing. *Slap.* I took my sweet time with each one. *Slap.* His head was facing away from me but I could hear the air rasping from lungs desperate, felt as the muscles of his abdomen contracted against my thighs, could imagine the tendrils of spit on half-parted lips as they curled into smiles of exhausted pleasure as he recovered from each spank. His hands, usually so dynamic, now held completely useless beneath the rope prison of his wrists. God it was amazing. Through each of my nerves coursed the feeling of power, untainted and pure.
There was this thing in the air... I knew it wasn't just me. There was a freedom to it, heightened in this giving and taking of power in a way we both knew nothing else could provide us. And something else- the hint of a deeper human connection dancing in the air of this small room, that sense of a future growing between us. My hand slowed mid-swing. I waited.
He sensed this and turned to face me, his eyes hungry. I just laid a hand on his ass, admiring its shape. The dark hairs that covered its skin. I gave it a little squeeze. He stretched out, pushing his ass into my hand with a sweet moan as he closed his eyes. I squeezed harder, grabbing a handful and bringing him to me. Then I threw him off of me. Left hand on ribs, right hands on waist, just shoved him off. He landed uncomfortably, his hands tied beneath him. And yet, he was almost giddy with pleasure.
I looked down at him with a serious expression. The smile faded from his face faster than I would have expected. It pleased me. Not that I let it show. Now he was just watching me, unsure. I stood up slowly, making sure to deliberately step over him to grab a beer from the mini fridge behind him. I bent down, giving him a nice view of my ass, but I didn't check to see if he was looking or not. I kept my back to him as I opened the beer. I took a swig.
'Want one?'
'Uā'
'Shut up.'
Finally turning around, I made sure to give him my best smirk. 'You haven't earned it yet.'
I stood there, drinking my favorite beer and drinking in his body, which was fast becoming my favorite as well. He had managed to awkwardly balance his torso on his elbows but he still looked like the definition of an artist's muse. I felt a wave of disappointment that I wasn't a painter. The sudden sentimentality annoyed me.