The crack sounded clear in the empty room. It startled her from her reverie, made her heart lurch. Just a book sliding off a desk, echoing in the still air. Funny, the noise it made. Her pulse raced and her flesh tingled across her rear. She gave a little squirm and focused on the papers she was supposed to be grading.
It was no use. She was going to have to give up for now and try to finish them at home, maybe after a hot bath. Now that the noise of the book falling had jolted her, she felt the heat of her buttocks keenly. Another wriggle as she realized the sound had also soaked her panties.
A crack in the crisp, calm atmosphere. Like the sound a belt makes at the end of the whistling. Leather laying across her ass. The tingling renewed along the marks she knew lined her buttocks. The redness presenting to her senses in contrast with the softness of the undamaged skin. The raw places burned hot and fresh through the cool silk of lace panties and she felt the wood of her chair in exquisite acuity.
Her nipples poked at the yarn of her sweater, the plush fibers preferable over a bra that would rub against the welts along the sides of her tender breasts. They feel heavy and wanting for the ache of the past night's abuse and it's all she can do to keep her hands from holding them. Touching them.
She piled the papers together and stuffed them in her briefcase. Picking up the book, she felt a whisper of breeze puff up her skirt and schuss across the heat of her behind. She heard again the crack of the belt as it snapped out over her rounded bottom. A sliver of molten delight slipped along her spine. It left her panties drenched with its passing. A moan caught in her throat and slipped out as a sigh. Heavy and sated with fulfilled dreams.
And she was standing there. Half in, half out of the daydream she'd been in before the book had ever fallen from the desk with that sound oh so much like the smack of a belt over bared flesh. The vivid pictures reeling through her senses and skipping beats with her heart. The book absentmindedly back on the desk and her fingers caressing the cover with the same displaced toying movements her own covering had been explored just hours ago.
Her skin taken in pieces and bunches between his fingers and puckered or smoothed. All in that semi distracted manner he used when he meant to keep her disengaged. Keep her from the budding excitement that welled up within her whenever he was near or touched her or spoke to her.
So he would talk to her. Just as he had last night. Tell her of things he would soon do to her. Speak words of praise and encouragement while his fingers idled away circlets of flesh. A pinch, "I want you to cum with my cock buried in you." A massaging motion and a prodding, "I'm going to grab your ass when I want you to cum and pull you onto me." Knowing touches and tantalizing tickles, "you always cum so good for me. I want you to cum particularly hard this time. Will you do that?"
Her own digits were pinching "Adventures in Mathematics" while her head nodded when she realized where she was. A schoolroom was no place for such daydreams and yet, how could she not think of it every waking moment that her buttocks radiated heat and her lips pouched numb. When her muscles ached a hundred different places and her breasts swayed full and needy. Even her sex felt chafed. She resisted an urge to touch it and explore the tender areas.
Her feet were rooted to the spot and her body rocked as she traced the binding of the book. She was back in the persistent daydream. Feeling her body's exquisite aches and lingering delights while knowing his touch and hearing his words. She needed to go home and soak in a hot soapy bath. To finish her day and send her off to sleep with dreams of him.
Instead, as she gathered herself to march to the car, the door opened. He stepped over the threshold as he sometimes did. Casually, almost as though he were simply going to request directions to the right class or the office. Stepped inside and closed the door behind with an echoed snap that sent prickles of awareness through the lines across her buttocks.
She wondered just briefly how he makes such exactly perfect noises. How he modulates his voice to give her quivers of sensate delights. The thoughts so fleeting and nearly lost in the leap of her heart. Her panties, already moist, flooded anew and her legs weakened, threatening to leave her control.
"Were you just leaving? You look like you could use to sit a moment more." He took her hand and led her back to her chair, settled her there, hugging her to him as they walked the few steps, touching her liberally, hands free upon her arms, while he helped her move fully into the seat. For her part, she moved without will or notion of her own. Captured. Captivated.
When she was seated, his hands tripped across her shoulders. A wild fling. Pressing and dancing, livening the muscles and sliding them away from the bones, all soreness leaving them. Slipping out of them like the steady flow of liquid from her groin. She groaned aloud and with abandon. Then, recognizing where she was, she gave another, more subdued uttering.
His fingers walked up her neck and the muscles melted into liquid pools tethered but just to the bones by thin orts of tendon. Her head drooped and shoulders sagged and all her concerns of the day floated off like wisps of mist. It was only last night he'd done this to her between times of frenzied need and delirious want and even as her mind connected the sensations, trickles of arousal tantalized her mound.
His voice washed her. Cleansed the slumber from her mind and invigorated the muscles his hands even now soothed. She felt her sex open. Distinctly and with shooting thrills coursing through her crotch. The wetness of her panties became more pronounced and she felt the heat from her buttocks glow. "Do you need to touch yourself?"
