The belt slips between my thighs. Rougher suede on the inside grazes over my swollen lips. Too late, I realize I’m making it wet and slick. Too late because I’m pressing. Pushing. Rocking against it.
Hard, then soft. Soft, and then harder. Faster, then long and slow. Oh, I have to stop.
Soon.
I nip the pointed end of the belt between my teeth. Smell and taste the leather. Wetting it with my mouth frees the scent. I dare to bite a little harder as I squirm, pulling the strap against my drenched, weeping pussy.
My nipples ache and rub, sore inside my bra. I want to take it off, but I’m in too much of a hurry now. I can’t stop.
With my thumb and finger, I pull, through the dress, through the bra, pinching and stretching my buds. Pulling them long and hard.
My scent ignites the smell of the old leather. The two traces, hot, distinct aromas, blend together. My breath is deep and hard. I need to stop, I know I do. But I have to have a little more of the smell. And more of the pressure. More of the buzz that rises like smoke inside me.
Crushing my folds, the leather strap is too wide, too stiff. The sides scratch against the tops of my thighs. The flat part can’t reach my bud. Not properly. Though I roll and scrape as hard as I can against it.
This may be the closest I’ll get to him. But I need to stop. He’ll be angry when he finds out what I’ve done. When he knows how I’ve used his belt for my dirty pleasure.
But I can’t stop. Not now. Soon.
I press the strap harder against me. Hard enough to feel the roughness of it, though my wet panties. I could take them off. Feel the leather properly. Rub it against me.
Now I’m afraid of how much I’ll soak his bed.
And I can’t stop now. Soon. Not yet.
Soon.
Soon.
Oh, God. Not yet.
On my back. With my knees up. My legs wide apart. Splayed open. On his bed. My bear’s bed. I’m Goldilocks. Little. Afraid. Alone in the woods.
I drag my panties to the side. I never felt so filthy before.
Push the belt harder. Press it tight against my swollen wet wings. My aching bud. The smell of him. And the leather. The heat. The supple hardness.
I wonder if I would dare to slide the pointed tip up, inside me. A hard piece of him. Of my silverback bear.
The buckle jingles cold against my ass. When I move it away, my finger strays to the soft ‘O.’
With the tip of my finger inside, I can reach my thumb into the opening of my pussy, still pushing the leather against my clit. I’m hot. Feverish. Clenching.
I’m meltling in a cascade inside. Too much going on. And it’s all too good.
And the door opens.
How did I not hear him coming? He bounds up the stairs like a racehorse. I can’t believe I missed it.
He definitely heard me coming, though.
When he opened the door, I couldn’t even stop. Not straightaway. Not for a minute. It was too late.
He leaned back to close the door quietly. I snapped into a ball.
I meant to stop. But my ass gripped my finger, my pussy clamped and sucked on my thumb, and my wanton, slutty hand ground his belt against my clit.
Before I could stop, I was cresting three ways. I moaned and rocked on the bed, shaking and clawing, shuddering and straining, imploding and cascading inside, staring, imploring, pleading into his hard, cruel eyes.
I shouted and clawed and clenched and gushed. Guilty, exposed, sinful, and free. It was terrible and mortifying and liberating, all at the same time.
He holds my chin in his hand. I can’t look up at him. But he makes me.
His voice is hard. Flat. “That’s maybe the filthiest thing I ever saw.”
“Oh! Oh, God,” I feel like I’m ready to come again, just looking at him. Hearing him. Feeling him close.
He says, “I know that’s the sexiest thing I ever saw.”
“I’m very bad.”
“You really are, butterfly. I love it.” There’s hunger in his eyes.
“You should spank me.” I blush saying it.
“With my best belt?”
“Is it? I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not. If it wasn’t my best belt before, it would be now. Did you put it inside you?”
I can’t make my voice loud enough to hear. I shake my head.
“Shame,” he says. “Maybe I should.”
I gasp. He pulls me to him roughly. I’m kneeling on the bed. He holds my hair. Kisses me hard. With his hand on my ass, he pulls me into him. Squeezes until my thighs tremble and my wet pussy is hard against the throb of his cock.
“Should I spank you again?”
Kissing me even more savagely, he pulls up the skirt of my dress. I pull his lips with my teeth. Then I jolt sharply as I feel the thwack of the belt against the backs of my thighs.