Deuce's Dancer by Patricia Green Read Free Book Online Page B

in the corner." He tilted his head toward the corner where the refrigerator met the wall.
    She stomped a foot. "No!"
    "Okay, sugar. Dinner smelled good. Too bad I can't stay to eat…it."
    "Don't you dare leave!"
    My, my, she was in a mood to get quite a comeuppance. "Are you ordering me again?"
    Her gaze went to the bulge in his pants and then back to his face. Her tongue snuck out and slid across her lower lip, but it was obvious she didn't realize what she was doing. "No…I…"
    Deuce's erection was killing him, but he went on. "Stop being such a bad girl, Pilar. Go stand in the corner or I'll leave."
    Sighing with resignation, she moved to the corner and stood facing it. "Like this?"
    "Exactly like that. But put your hands on the back of your head and spread your legs wider."
    A flush stole over her body, adding a pink tone to her café au lait skin. "You're trying to humiliate me, aren't you?"
    "Embarrass you, yeah. Punish you a bit, yeah. Humiliate you? I like you the way you are. I'm not interested in a doormat."
    She wove her fingers together at the back of her head. It was amusing seeing her there with the apron lace framing her hips and its strings hanging down over the crack of her ass. As she slid her legs apart, the shiny lips of her pussy peeked out. Their moisture glinted at him like a wink. He nearly groaned.
    "How long do I have to stand here? The enchiladas will be done pretty soon."
    Deuce might have some trouble keeping his hands off her, but he looked at his watch and noted the time. "Five minutes. And be quiet. No more talking."
    She huffed, but didn't say another word.
    By the time the five minutes was up, Deuce thought he might be dying from too much blood to the penis.
    "Time's up," he told her. "Go put your hands back on the counter."
    She did as he told her, but tried to wheedle. "Deuce…"
    "You want somethin', sugar?"
    "Come on, Deuce. Spank me. Hard."
    He slid his hand over her rump then down between her cheeks and against her soaked pussy. "No."
    She groaned and wriggled more. "You're teasing me-ah!" He thrust a finger in her and her body grasped and held tight. He used a second finger. She was tight and hot inside. He wanted his cock in there badly, and her panting was like a seductive siren's song. "Come on, spank-man, do your thing. I'm ready for you!"
    He chuckled. She was definitely ready. "Be good, sugar, or there'll be no spankin' or fuckin' tonight."
    Her shoulders sagged and her head dropped to the counter. "Okay. I'll be good."
    "Spread your legs a li'l more." He said it more to make the point that she was to submit to his will than because he wanted to stare at her pussy more, though the sight made him even harder--a thing he wouldn't have thought could be possible.
    She obeyed, and he pulled his surprise from his pocket, shaking the short whip out to its full length, about as long as his forearm.
    "A whip?" she said with some combination of surprise and wonder as she peered over her shoulder.
    "A quirt. Braided leather with a rope core. Two short tails." He stepped back a pace. "My father made it for me for casual horse races in high-school."
    "For horses?"
    The quirt made a little snapping sound against his pant leg and she flinched. "You want me to ride you like a filly, don't you?"
    Once more, that sweet flush crept up her back. "Yes…yes."
    Deuce didn't say another word, he pulled back his arm and flicked the tails over her gorgeous ass. They snapped sharply on her flesh and she made a surprised noise. Twice more he flicked it, each stroke getting a little harder.
    Pilar cursed in Spanish, but wiggled her butt, asking for more.
    "Watch your tongue, woman," he scolded in that same language.
    "I'd like to watch my tongue on you, hombre," she said on a moan as the whip struck her again several times.
    She was humming with pleasure, and the blows were making her gasp.
    "Oh yes," she coaxed.
    It didn't take much to encourage him. The whip made raised crescent-shaped welts on her