His Wife
By Aaron Majewski
All Rights Reserved
Smashwords edition 2011
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The room exuded his masculine presence, which only heightened the sense of urgency and the need which filled her new master. Richard brought her to the center of his bedroom and she stood pliant under his hands.
With a deft touch he loosened the ties at her throat and pushed the simple dress from her shoulders, so that its torn cloth fell about her ankles. Beneath, her shift was torn only in a few places, thick and well made it was clean and fresh. It took him only a moment to slip this too from her shoulders, so it fluttered around her feet.
Her bared breasts were larger than his wife's, centered high on her chest they jutted forward, her nipples large and dark with her excitement and her uncertainty, the small aureola flushed red. She looked up at him with her big green eyes, trembling faintly and luminous with her excitation.
Richard leaned forward and cupped the back of her head, tilting it up for his mouth. Danielle lifted her face to his and parted her lips, shivering a little as he took her kiss in a genial theft, but in a way which made it plain he would brook no resistance to his will.
She smelled of plums and jasmine, one scent her shampoo, the other her soap. And beneath that was an underlying smell he could not describe, uniquely, unfamiliar her. He stepped back slightly, one hand reaching around to cup her proud arse, hart-shaped, high and tight.
Despite the filth which had been on her face and hair, the scrapes on her knuckles, the rest of her body appeared well taken care of. Extremely well formed. And in very good health. The skin over her ribs padded just enough to make it clear she had never been malnourished, the muscles of her body delinted and unwasted, so it was clear she had never been neglected as she grew.
She was very well formed, he thought approvingly.
Danielle smiled up at him, tremulously.
“Relax,” he breathed. A tickle of command.
She nodded, and slowly he knelt, drawing down the surprisingly expensive silk of her half-cut panties. Lowering them around her feet he lifted her leg, slipping the panties off around her soft-soled shoe. He then removed the shoe itself, and repeated this for her other leg, until she stood, completely bare.
Richard stood and took her in his arms, took her mouth again easily. She was pressed against him, her hart hammering against his, her belly trembling against his abdomen. He reached down, cupping the thick fur around the girl's snatch. She shuddered, tried to pull back, but Richard tightened his arm around her shoulders, and she in turn submitted.
He cupped the softness of her woman's mound, finding the full, proud lips of her labia to be engorged with excitement. Gently he spread her lips open with his fingers, even as he nibbled on the lips of her mouth with his teeth. He felt her gasp as he eased a finger in, finding the soft pad of skin inside her and rubbing it gently. She stiffened, moaning, and fought to pull back.
Richard let her, and she looked up at him, tremblingly. He let her reach down, push his hand away from her softness. “What, what are you doing sir?” Danielle asked.
“You must call me Richard, I told you,” he replied, with a small, secret smile.
She took a shaky breath. “I'm sorry. What are you doing Richard?”