The Bottom Line by Emma Savage Page B

moments, then moved my hands down to her bottom to feel for any evidence of damage, and when I reached the first, and apparently minor weal, she winced involuntarily.
    â€˜I’m sorry now,’ I said. ‘I didn’t start out intending to hurt you. It was only a game.’
    â€˜Oh no,’ she contradicted me, ‘it was a lot more than a game. I can’t explain but it was the most exciting feeling I can ever remember. But I have to admit that I’m feeling a bit sore now, especially just where you were touching me.’
    â€˜Let’s have a look,’ I said, and sure enough the first weal was already turning a purplish-yellow and there were two more slightly lower down. ‘Have you any cold cream in your bag?’
    She nodded, so I went to the dressing table and rummaged through the bag until I found the small jar. ‘Lie still,’ I told her, ‘and let’s see whether this helps. It ought to be soothing, even if it has no actual clinical properties.’
    I rubbed the cream gently into the punished flesh. She had stopped crying and was obviously enjoying the treatment. When I finished treating the injuries I continued to rub the cream into her bottom, widening the area as I did so and pulling gently on her cheeks to expose the inviting valley between them. Several times I did this and the occasional sighs of appreciation continued, so I dipped my index finger into the jar, pulled harder on her cheeks and thrust my creamy finger into the cleft. Not only was there no objection, but the sighs became a more recognisable gasp of pleasure as I began rubbing my fingertip along the divide, pausing deliberately each time I brushed it over her little anus.
    It was now or never, I told myself, and pushed the tip of my finger into the tight hole, felt a slight resistance and pushed harder. As my straightened finger sank into her bottom I could feel the sphincter grip tightly, and realised I was as powerfully excited by this as I had ever been with her. I moved my finger up and down with increasing intensity, noting that she continued to gasp and started to writhe her hips slightly. For several minutes I played with her like this, using one hand to pull her back against me while I explored her arse with the other. Then I carefully eased my finger out of her, to gauge her responses.
    â€˜No,’ she murmured, ‘don’t stop. Please don’t stop.’
    â€˜Do you mean...?’ I began.
    â€˜Yes,’ she whispered, ‘I mean it. Please, fuck my bottom while I still feel like this.’
    Scarcely able to believe this plea, I wrapped my fingers round my prick, slipped it between her buttocks and felt for the tiny opening. Once engaged I used both hands to pull her cheeks apart and widen the passage, pushing as I did so and again feeling her muscle tighten as I forced my way inside her. I realised she was holding on to the bedstead with one hand only, while her other was between her legs providing stimulation I could not see but could easily guess at.
    Her gasps were becoming more urgent as I pushed my stiff cock in to the hilt, using my hands to pull her hard back against my groin. Once fully embedded I paused briefly, catching my breath, then held her hips tight as I started to drive back and forth inside her deliciously snug rectum. For how long we fucked I have no idea, but my ejaculation was tumultuous when it finally came, Barbara clearly loved every second of it, and we were both sweating heavily when I eventually eased my deflating penis from her body.
    Slowly she disengaged herself, lay back on the bed and looked up at me. Then she reached up and cupped my head, pulled me down to her and whispered, ‘Come on then, finish me off.’
    The next few minutes passed as a blur. I remember licking her sex and I remember my tongue sliding inside her. I remember finding her engorged clitoris and sucking and licking it. And as she wearily recovered from her