I felt her pull my jeans down.
Her palm was on my ass quickly, smacking it with rough, rapid hits. “What the hell are these?” she asked as she tugged on my panties. They were white, cotton, something of a bikini cut.
“I’m sorry,” I managed to gasp out as she hit my ass a few more times, “I didn’t know this would happen.”
“These are completely unacceptable.” She was hitting even harder, “did you think I would like this?” She managed to contain a chuckle, trying to keep up the fearsome role she had taken on.
“I didn’t know!” I cried out and tugged on the scarf that held my wrists together and to the headboard. My head was starting to swim. After two months abroad, it had been a while since someone had done this to me. I was sinking into that space already. My thoughts were getting a lot simpler, my voice had a new quality to it.
She smiled and reached around on the floor for a minute before coming up with something I couldn’t see from my position. “I like lace,” she said calmly as she started to slice my panties off of me with the scissors she had just gotten, “but I don’t like thongs.”
I moaned as she pulled them off and the air touched my cunt, its wetness betraying my pouts as I said, “I have lace panties.” Another moan came as she traced a finger down my slit before going to pull my jeans back up. “What are you…?”
“Maybe if you’d have worn them, I’d keep going,” she chuckled as I groaned in protest.
I realized I was probably going to have to beg.