A Wicked Game You Play Read Online Free PDF Page A

him. God, nobody had ever turned her on so much,
she realized. She felt like a puppet, a toy, soft and malleable as
putty, to do with as he wanted.
    He grabbed a handful of her ass cheeks,
pressing them together, squeezing them almost hard enough to
bruise, just using her for his own pleasure. He complimented her on
their shape and beauty. Now that she was satisfied she was safe,
she gave up all pretense of resistance. Like a wild animal
surrendering, her body was his, to treat as delicately or brutally
as he wished. With that surrender, she concentrated on the fierce
throbbing in her breasts and spread her legs even more. She closed
her eyes, relishing his rough touch, smiling at his quiet
groan.
    Then he stepped back. Before she could look
to see what he was doing, he snapped the stick up between her legs,
popping her wet pussy with its very tip.
    As the echoes of her surprised squeal faded
into the woods, he swished the branch, testing its suppleness. She
bit her lips and endured the agonizing anticipation as he made
sweeping scythes through the air. Kate tensed, then relaxed,
thinking he wouldn’t actually cane her pussy again. He’d just meant
to get her attention. As she relaxed, the butt of the stick pressed
against her labia.
    As coarse as it may have been, she was easily
wet enough to let it glide. The rough wood slid into her an inch or
so. She groaned louder, feeling fresh humiliation as Robert's
father angled the stick so the bark abraded her swollen clit. She
beat her hands on the car roof and tried to pull herself off the
branch, but her thrumming tits kept her prisoner.
    “Has that warmed you up enough?” Anthony
asked. He twisted it a half turn then pulled it back, now slick
with her pussy juices. He wiped it clean on the inside of her thigh
then he popped each cheek, making them shake.
    She’d just settled into his latest play when
he flipped the branch around, drew his arm back like a golfer
practicing his swing, and struck.
    The crack of wood across her bottom wrung a
cry of protest from Kate. She instinctively jumped when the stick
struck, yanking at her breasts.
    Groaning, she bit her lip when the next lash
struck. There was always the possibility that her cries might
attract attention she had no desire to attract. Mr. Johnson made
her wait for what seemed an intolerable length of time then brought
the thin stick across her cheeks. Pain exploded across her bottom.
It trembled and shook with each blow, leaving lattice lines of
pain, deftly laid out across the landscape of her tensed behind,
that almost made her cry.
    When he finally targeted her pussy again, her
relief was more intense than the pain. In fact, he hadn’t swatted
her that hard at all, and the gentle whack actually woke a tingle
that had been absent for a bit.
    “Yes!” She beat the rooftop of the car,
daring him to go on. Her eyes spat feigned hatred and very real
lust at him; the devil, her redeemer, her Master.
    Breathing hard himself, Mr. Johnson teased
her with a couple more light pops. Just as her pussy was beginning
to really sting, he stopped. She looked back at him, hoping he was
finally ready to fill her need. She found that he was watching her,
a flicker of approval in his expression. Then he roughly spread her
legs, kicking her ankles apart with a foot. As she gasped in pain,
her breasts crushed to near bursting, he slammed his cock—thick and
strong—into the very heart of her body, filling her like she’d
never been filled before.
    He fucked her impersonally, as though she was
there solely to provide for his pleasure. He gripped her hips hard
enough to bruise as he ploughed through her cunt, deliberately
driving upward, ruthlessly forcing her to pull her breasts. Not
that she minded.
    Breathing hard, Kate squeezed his cock,
encouraging him to thrust deeper. She heard him gasp in pleasure as
she milked him. The splash of his hot come pulsed into the mouth of
her womb. He gripped her hips tighter, eking out his orgasm