“No, no,” she muttered, uncertain if she was answering his question or telling him to stop. Rick ignored her protestation.
Now she understood why he had moistened his fingers on her juices. He rimmed her bud with her own natural lubrication and it tickled. Little sparks of electricity shot about her sex. As she precariously balanced on his lap, he pressed a finger against her tight entrance.
“Relax,” he told her.
She listened, breathed deeply, and felt her belly muscles untie their knots. A moment of pain; she flinched and then he was in. His finger hooked inside her, seeking out her elasticity.
“You’re going to come for me, Leah,” he said and she believed him.
She was pinned down by his fingers, one set frigging her clitoris and pussy, the other thrusting in and out of her bottom hole. It took mere seconds to achieve his goal.
Leah screamed and the pigeons roosting on the roof above took off en masse at her commotion.
Rick removed his hands, stroked her bottom and back until her convulsions died down.
“A nice red bottom. Well, more of a pale pink then crimson. I think I stopped too soon, don’t you?” His palm made circles about her bottom, squishing her soft flesh, pushing her pelvis deeper into his lap and erection. The tip stuck up, hitting her stomach, reminding her of his own needs.
“Yes.” The word escaped her lips before her brain had engaged.
“Can you stand up?” he asked gently.
She nodded and he helped her find her feet. Her knickers dropped about her ankles and she stared at them, a wisp of fabric, unsure whether to pull them up or not.
“Take them off,” he said into her ear. “In fact. Take everything off. Keep your shoes and suspenders on. I don’t want you to cut your feet on something.”
She should feel mortified by his request to strip, but the emotion was suppressed. Another raged inside and won out—lust.
Rick went on his hunt, a now familiar activity as he sought out something to spank her tender bottom. As she dropped off her skirt, lifted off her blouse, and undid her dainty bra, Rick plundered about the fringes of the hangar, lifting, moving, and banging. She dreaded to think what he might find abandoned.
Her stockings and suspenders she left on; she still felt totally naked though, her clothes laid neatly on the chair. The cool air in the hangar moved about her, an almost perceivable breeze. She shivered slightly; it wasn’t due to being cold, merely apprehension.
Rick had crouched down in a far corner. Too dark for her to see what he was fiddling with and she was tempted to tiptoe over to watch him. Standing up, he proceeded to drag something over towards one of the spotlights of daylight. Now she could see what he had found: A wheel chock. The mechanism to keep an aircraft from rolling when parked. A wedge of wood attached to a piece of thick rope. It was the rope that Rick held in his hands.
Once in the brighter light, he returned to his task. The rope knotted to a ring in the wooden chock; he picked at the tired knot until it gradually fell apart. Pulling the rope through the ring, he dangled it in front of him. Badly frayed at one end, several inches of rope had uncoiled, exposing tattered ends. His fingers rang through the fibres, feeling them, prying them apart further. Walking towards an outer wall, he lifted his arm and swung it at the metal. It crashed against it and a plume of dust rose up, along with tiny detached rope fibres. He repeated the action several times until the dust disappeared.
“You have got to be kidding!” shouted Leah across the expanse of the hangar.
He swung it back and forth as he strolled back towards her. Leah wrapped her arms about her body protectively, heart thumping in her chest.
“It’s very soft. Surprisingly so. I expect rats have gnawed at it. But they’ve done you a favour. Made it lovely and thin.”
“A favour!” she squeaked.
“Feel it. Go on,” he cajoled.
Her hand crept out, crossing the space between them, until her fingertips touched the rope fibres. She rolled them between her fingers. They didn’t feel rough and weren’t as heavy as she had imagined.
“I’m going to give you a flogging. Something different,” he told her.
Leah’s eyes opened wide and her hand shot back to the comfort of her own body.
“It will hurt too much,” she said, shaking her head.
“Don’t move,” said Rick.
She obeyed. A little voice inside her told her not to, but a bigger one stamped on the little one, telling it to be quiet.
Slowly he walked around her twitching body. As he moved, he trailed the makeshift flogger about her flesh, over her shoulders, down her back, and across her bottom. Round and round he went, and on each circuit, he twirled the rope, caressing her one second, stinging her with a flick of his wrist the next.