She is bending over a table kneading bread dressed in french cut panties and a loose, long white cotton t-shirt which doesn't cover her bottom in her position. He stands watching the natural gentle rocking of her hips as her hands love the soft pliable dough. Her whole body seems to be involved in her task as muscles move and slither under her skin and that thin sweet layer of woman. His breath catches as he stands and tries to memorize the rounded shape of her buttocks, the smooth fair skin of her bare legs, the rhythm of her motion. He almost changes his mind about taking care of necessary matters. He takes a deep breath, sighing. Maybe it can be done in such a way as to not bruise her tender heart, he thinks as he walks to her.
She let's out a soft cry as his hand cups and rubs her left cheek, startling her. She giggles softly and he is aware of the momentary tension leaving her body almost immediately. His hand absorbs the warmth and feel of her on its palm as he gently massages her bottom, squeezing gently. His right hand must touch her and reaches to run flat and tenderly under her shirt, pushing it up her back. He hears her breathing change so imperceptibly he would have missed it had he not been listening closely, attuned to her sounds and reactions to his touch. She feels so warm and smooth to his hands...like silk. His right hand slips around her, sliding on her dry soft skin to cup her right breast.
He is rewarded with a low moan as his finger tips tease her nipple. His left hand travels to slip between the top of her thighs, gently probing her lips under the thin snowy white cotton. He hears her breath catch and come out in a quiet rush....sweet music to him, her sounds. He adjusts his shoulders, toughening himself, adjusting his demeanor, and leans to whisper, his lips touching her ear. "Baby, it is time," he says softly but firmly and feels her tense under his touch. He listens as her breathing stops for an instant. He hears the deep breath she takes, a telling sign she is resigned to his decision. He sees the very slight nod of her head and watches her chin drop slowly.
He reaches out and takes the dough from her hands and wraps it in plastic, setting it aside. Her hands rest on the table, her position does not change and he can't help but smile. He reaches to spread her arms and gently pushes between her shoulders, guiding her to lay upon the table. His thigh works between her legs and lifts, pushing her thighs to the table's edge. He watches her center of gravity change as most of her weight is shifted to the table, her feet all but leaving the floor. He lifts his thigh and pushes a bit harder and slides her so that her toes dangle an inch from the floor. He admires her beautiful bottom, raised and bent in the most delightful position, perfect for his chore.
Both his hands rub up her back pushing the shirt in a puddle to her shoulders. His hands slip to slide the front of her shirt up her body. He lifts her right arm and bends it to pull it through the sleeve, then takes her hand and moves it back to the table top's rim. He pulls her left arm back through the other sleeve and guides her hand back to its former place. Tugging gently the shirt slips over her head, baring her. Her back rises and falls a touch more quickly as he leans to whisper in her ear. "You know we have to do this, don't you? And you know why, too, don't you?" he asks her gently as he watches her for signs of compliance. When he hears her almost silent, "yes," he feels it in his loins. Everything about her now, makes him sexually aware of his body's reaction to the sight and sounds of her. "Tell me, Baby," he whispers his directive. He waits patiently as she fills her lungs with enough air to answer him. Her low whispered reply of, "because I forgot the car payment and it was late. It was very unlike me to forget something so important, very naughty of me," brings a nod of which she is unaware . "And?" he prompts. Her deep breath expels the consent he is waiting for, "and this is the way 'we' decided we would correct things like this".
Straightening behind her, his finger tips dip under the elastic of her form hugging panties and begin to work them down over her hips, gently tugging them down underneath her at the same time. He listens as her breathing deepens, while sliding them slowly down her thighs, calves, ankles and off her feet. While he is lowered at her feet his hands wrap her ankles and spread her legs in a wide 'V'. "Can you hold your legs open, or do you want me to help you keep them open," he asks her. Her answer of, "I don't know if I can," in a worried tone sends him to the bedroom, with a firm, "don't even think about moving," over his shoulder. He returns in moments with two silk neck ties and quickly binds her ankles to the table legs, stretching her legs wide. He cannot help but study her open sex, grinning at the shine of wetness he sees glistening before him.