“What’s the safe word fox?” My voice takes on a tone that commands you to comply, I’m cautioning you to consider your destiny and your fate.

“Ashdown” you confess, your mind spilling over with not knowing where we’re going next.

You catch a measured nod of my head, before impatiently I reach out. Instinct recoils inside you but the heavy door has you pinned.

My hands go to work, swiftly unfastening the one button on the side of your skirt. Skillfully peeling down the zipper until the tight fabric flaps open, like heavy petals falling from the stems of cut flowers, your opened skirt easily slips away from your body and falls effortlessly to the floor.

I’m not the least concerned with where it lands, and stooping low I briefly wait for you to obediently raise each heeled foot in turn, such that I can casually tease the discarded skirt away from under your heels and toss it away.

Now you’re on display, like a ripe and juicy plum, ready to be peeled and eaten. The lace of your Stella thong cuts a thin and sexy line, and my eyes are so close, you swear you can feel the heat of their intention stroking over you.

From where I crouch before you, my Hazel eyes find their focus just above your pubic bone and follow the outline of your soft mound, taking in the tender weight of your smooth cunt, and savoring the sodden streamline of your narrowing sex, tapering to a triangle, trapped and tingling between your exposed thighs.

You know I can see the shameless silver sheen of wet sexy heat, so sticky between your thighs. I can sense the tightness of your longing clamoring against your clit, and the heat in the room, combined with the way I’m looking at you, makes every moment more intense.

My hands find your hips, forcefully turning you around so that I can better admire the slope and sway of your back and the way your tiny thong disappears so dangerously.

This line of sight teases my eyes, revealing hints of the cleavage hidden between the pert cheeks of your ass and giving me a sexy view of the bottom swell of your roundness.

My hands climb up behind you, pressing you against the door as I rise to my feet, standing tall behind you. My open hand moves the damp, dark brunette of your hair away from the back of your neck until you can feel the warmth of my breath against your skin, each inhale and exhale conveying my desire to claim and control you. And you know my breathing, my adrenaline is beginning to surge.

With measured weight and strength, I pull you away from the door, my hands moving over you, masterfully, tilting you over just slightly at the waist, unbalancing you, causing you to plant both of your palms out against the heavy door in order to brace yourself.

And without mercy I dispatch several hard slaps against your ass. The force of each impact stings wildly and you can feel the burn spreading through you like a forest fire.