Best Women's Erotica 2014

PUNISHING DESDEMONA

Catherine Paulssen

“No! No no no no no,” Kenneth yelled, turned his eyes away from the stage and impatiently slapped a script he was holding rolled up in his fist against a chair in the row in front of him.

He jumped up and walked over to the pair of actors, the younger of whom was almost frozen, the woman on all fours before him carrying an unfazed but slightly tired expression on her face.

“Jerome,” Kenneth addressed the guy. “You’re madly in love with your woman. She’s independent, she’s hot, and she’s so much more experienced than you. People keep telling you she’s doing you wrong with one of your best friends, only exacerbating the voices in your head that have been plaguing you with jealousy and doubt ever since she said she was yours.” He eyed him expectantly. “You’re burning with anger and disgust—toward yourself, toward Desdemona, but most of all toward the love that binds you to her. You got that?”

Jerome looked uncomfortable but nodded.

“Now this is Othello’s fantasy. Your chance to let the audience in on his wildest dreams of revenge,” Kenneth went on. “Show them how much you want to make Desdemona yours. Show them how much you want to get back at her for doing you wrong. Let out all your pent-up frustration. I want to hear the smacks, even in the farthest seat in the back, got it?”

Jerome gulped. “It’s just that—”

“I want to hear them!” Kenneth repeated. “I want to see her body flying forward, I want to feel the impact when your hand hits her butt.”

He turned and walked back into the auditorium, leaving Jerome to cast a doubtful glance at the perfect round cheeks presenting themselves to him. His huge dark hands seemed so inappropriate on the tender skin, as misplaced as a blotch of mud staining a meadow of freshly fallen snow. He licked his dry lips as his eyes wandered over the perfect curves of Diana’s back, the tight skin over her spine enticing his fingers to trace its small peaks. He regarded the soft hairs where back met bottom, admiring them as they shimmered in the harsh shine of the spotlights. What he would do…what he could do if—?

“Come on,” Diana said, interrupting his thoughts. She gave him a gentle nod with her head. “You can do it.” Her face was half-covered by wild curls, but he could still make out the impish smile that creased her features. “Just imagine I was a very naughty girl last night.”

She turned and got into position again, wiggling her exquisite butt at him, and he could hear her giggling softly.

“Let me hear your fury,” Kenneth’s voice roared from the last row.

Jerome closed his eyes and drew a short breath. He loved her with all he had. She was doing him wrong. He was furious. He was hurt. He would tame her. He would mark her. He wouldn’t let her forget who she belonged to.

Most of all, he would show her how precious she was to him.

He raised his hand and brought it down on Diana’s cheek, but even as he did it, he could tell he was restraining himself from really hitting her hard. When his hand met her skin, it was no more than a slap, and even before Kenneth started to curse, he could hear Diana’s disappointed groan.

He lowered his gaze and waited for Kenneth’s outburst to end. “Couldn’t we—maybe with sound effects…” Jerome made a feeble attempt to get out of tainting Diana’s fair skin, but Kenneth wouldn’t have it.

“Sound effects,” he spat. “I want to show a whole new Othello. One who is in charge. One who doesn’t let himself be pushed around. Of course in the end, he’ll lose his battle with jealousy and betrayal, but until then, I want him to be raw. He’s human, yes, but he’s fighting his human frailty. Got me?”

“That’s why I want just you and the audience. No special effects, no gimmicks of any kind. Just your emotions, stripped and bare. You’re doing a good job showing me his vulnerable side,” the director continued, his voice a bit softer now. “But for this scene, I need to see the war hero, the redoubtable general in the Venetian army, the Othello who would never let his woman act up on him.”

As he rode the bus home that night—the scene not rehearsed to either his own or Kenneth’s satisfaction—Jerome kept going over the director’s words in his head. “Independent, hot, much more experienced… You love her…”

He exhaled and watched his breath fog the cold bus window.

This was nothing he needed to be told. More than fifteen years his senior, Diana was a stunning woman. She had a smoky voice with a fruity, smooth ring to it. Legs that went on and on, accentuated with slim-cut ankle pants and high heels. Huge eyes framed by a voluminous bunch of tight curls—eyes that looked at him with an expression he couldn’t read. He detected a sort of collegial affection, curiosity and something else that made him wonder if he could ever be more to her than just an aspiring actor.

Never had a woman got his head spinning like Diana did. And when she crouched before him during the dream sequence wearing nothing but a thong and sheer lace-top stockings, her butt perked up so seductively, all kinds of bewildering thoughts ran through his head that made it hard for him to focus on anything else.

It confused him that she could still exude an air of being in complete control, of majesty almost, even as she assumed the most humble and submissive position.

As soon as she stopped acting the part of Desdemona, Diana would treat him with an attitude that—with every gesture, with every move—told him she thought he was cute and adorable… like a little boy. It upset and infuriated him. Yes, he was at the beginning of his career, fresh out of acting school, and this play was his first real chance at the big leagues. But he wasn’t a child. He had had his share of experiences. Given the chance, he knew he could prove himself to her. He lost himself in reveries and almost missed the bus stop.

When he arrived at rehearsal the next day, he heard her gravelly voice even before he saw her. It had an unusual honeyed ring to it, and his stomach gave a little flip at the sultry sound, but this was immediately followed by a sucker punch to the gut as he heard a deep male voice respond.

One of the extras.

Broad shouldered, square chinned, oozing blue-collar charm.

How he hated him.

Envied him at the same time.

He turned the corner, and the first thing that caught his eye were Gaz’s strong hands around Diana’s waist, holding her tight, the tanned calloused skin a dramatic contrast against her plain white T-shirt. She had her arms wrapped around his neck and was whispering into his ear, causing him to laugh smugly and spin her around.

Did her eyes meet his as she was swung?

She traced the lines of Gaz’s collarbone and temple with her slender finger. Was it that sight that rooted him to the spot, or did he simply not want to move? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Now he was sure she had noticed his lean figure in the corner, for when she pressed a peck on Gaz’s ear, her eyes fixed on Jerome.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” she whispered with a final nuzzle at Gaz’s earlobe before she turned and vanished.

Gaz passed Jerome as he walked away, a satisfied grin on his face.

If she had been trying to get him into his character’s mood, she hadn’t succeeded. Not that by lunch he hadn’t cooked up several plots in which Gaz met an untimely end. And not that the humiliation of being a hopeful young actor paired with some of the biggest names in the business and not living up to the expectations placed upon him didn’t nag at him. And definitely not that the furious desire to show Diana that he appreciated her so much more than anybody else didn’t burn at his very core.

But even later that day, when it was time for the dream sequence and she awaited him on all fours, her nipples erect in the theater’s chilly air and just visible beyond her armpits, her ass so inviting, he couldn’t do it. The position into which she was hunched, her nakedness and her grace made him want to do so many things, made him wish she was alone with him, offering herself that willingly, allowing him to reward her for her submission to his loving hands—but he wouldn’t slap her sweet butt with the force his character’s anger required.

Such a woman—such an ass—deserved to be loved not beaten.

That’s what it all came down to, in his mind.

Kenneth was at the end of his patience. “Jerome, what’s your problem, man?” A moment later, he was on stage standing next to Jerome. He raised his own hand by way of demonstration, aimed—and slapped Diana’s butt with a force that made Jerome gulp and sent a shiver through Diana’s delicate body.

“You hear that?” Kenneth asked. He spanked her again, and Jerome winced as Kenneth’s stubby fingers clashed with Diana’s left cheek, leaving a red imprint. The smack reverberated from the stage walls and filled the hall. Kenneth planted another blow, this time on her right cheek, and then one more. Each whack hit her with such impact her arms almost gave out beneath her. Jerome expected her to whimper. He waited for her to demand that Kenneth stop, but she merely groaned softly.

“See how it’s done?” Kenneth asked, as if he had just taught Jerome how to prepare good tenderloin. Jerome nodded, not looking at him. He couldn’t turn his eyes away from Diana’s maltreated behind.

She sighed, and Jerome watched the skin Kenneth had smacked turn from red to pink. He shuddered wondering how much it must have hurt her, and when Kenneth jumped from the stage, he shyly placed his hand on the tender flesh and stroked it. He could feel the heat the spanks had aroused, and inside of him, he felt a sudden urge to kiss the spots and soothe her pain.

Diana raised her ass—it was only by a bit, but to him, it felt as if she were snuggling her sore flesh into the palm of his hand. Now she turned her face toward him and smiled. “Do it.”

He cupped one cheek in his huge hands and squeezed it lightly. Would he?

Some noise in the auditorium made him turn. In the diffuse light, he could make out several figures. Apparently, everyone who hadn’t anything better to do was keen to watch him fail.

Now the spotlight was directed on him, and he could feel beads of sweat forming at the nape of his neck. He bit his lip and landed a tentative smack on Diana’s butt.

He wanted to vanish into a haze and never return.

His anger rising—had he heard someone laughing?—he let another strike follow and another and another. He was half beside himself with anger, but even in his frantic state, he could tell they didn’t have half of Kenneth’s firmness, nor his accuracy. They weren’t, he knew, at all what the director was looking for.

Panting, he stopped and turned toward the auditorium.

Kenneth shook his head, and Jerome could feel the taut air fill the theater. One of the prop masters sneered.

“We’ll take it from here tomorrow,” said Kenneth, throwing Jerome an exasperated look before rising from his seat and leaving the theater.

The small crowd shuffled out, Diana stood up and wrapped a terry-cloth robe around her body, and the spotlight was turned off. But Jerome remained standing there on the empty stage.

He was the world’s biggest fool, wasn’t he? Fellow students from his acting class would kill for the chance he’d been given, and he knew he was perfect for the role. So was he really messing it up because he couldn’t find a way to channel his confusion, doubts and self-loathing?

Minutes passed, and when he was sure he wouldn’t run into any of them anymore on his way out, he left the hall, got himself a bottle of water from a vending machine, then trotted on through the windowless, neon-lit corridor.

“Are you scared, lover boy?”

He stopped short at the sound of a voice coming from the other side of a door. Next thing he knew, he was being dragged into the small room behind it—Diana’s wardrobe.

His eyes grew accustomed to the dim light shed by an old-fashioned table lamp, and he looked around the sparsely furnished room. In its corner stood a huge mirror next to a plain wooden table that she used as a vanity stand. Framed posters from former productions stared down at him from the salmon-colored walls. Above a plushy white sofa, a rectangular window overlooked the theater’s backyard; big drops of rain pressing themselves against its pane were the only sound to be heard.

Diana leaned against the opposite wall, dressed again in her skinny jeans and plain white shirt.

“Let’s practice,” she said simply, coming toward him and taking the water bottle and bag out of his hands. Placing these on the floor, she turned and leaned against the windowsill.

“Come on. Spank me.” She offered him her butt.

He hesitated, but when she perked up her bottom a bit farther, he delivered a halfhearted blow on her jeans-clad cheeks.

“Harder, baby.”

He rolled his eyes. “This feels stupid.”

She straightened up and looked at him inquiringly. Her cocoa-colored irises hadn’t lost any of their calm. “Fine,” she said. “Then let’s get down to it.”

He watched her incredulously as she unzipped her pants and stepped out of them. “Would you like me to keep the shoes on?” she asked lightly.

A grin flashed over her face. “I can tell you’re the type of man who likes a naked woman in heels.”

His heart beat faster. What she had said, the way she had said it… It aroused him even more than the prospect of seeing her naked again.

Without an audience, this time.

She stripped off her shirt. Holding his gaze, she wrapped one of her long legs around him and pressed her almost-naked body against his. Her finger played with a strand of his hair, then moved across his cheek down to his chin and neck. Jerome could taste her breath on his mouth.

“Baby, I know you have it in you…” she whispered. She breathed a kiss on his lips, but before he could wake up from the spell she’d cast and deepen that kiss, she had turned around and was rubbing her bottom against his crotch. His cock reacted immediately, bobbing against his jeans. His first impulse was to free it from the pants’ restraints, push her down on the sofa and show her what he had in him. But Diana took his hand and pressed it against her buttcheek. He grabbed it, but she took a step forward and eluded his grip. As she had done earlier, she wiggled her ass, her hands running through her hair, pulling the curls up and letting them fall back on her shoulders.

“Make it yours, Jerome,” she whispered. The lights of a car leaving the yard flickered over her silhouette, painting it silvery-blue for a moment. She repeated his name, and he detected a soft longing in the way she uttered its syllables. Before he knew it, he could hear the crack of flesh meeting flesh and the warmth as blood rushed through his palm. The room fell back into semidarkness.

Diana purred, and for a moment, he caught sight of her tightened nipples through her bra.

Had he really spanked her? He must have. He could feel the tingling shooting into his fingertips. But what overwhelmed him even more was the sudden realization that she…

He parted her legs with his hand and ran his fingers over the soft skin between her thighs. She shuddered a little and drew a hissing breath as he moved the tip of his thumb over her pussy.

Even through the mesh of her thong, he could tell how aroused she was.

“You like this,” he blurted out.

She half turned, a sly grin on her face. “I might.”

His breath caught in his throat. “You’re enjoying this?”

“You…and all the while I thought I was hurting you!”

“Hurting me?” She threw her curls back and laughed.

Her laughter infuriated him. He had tried to be considerate. He had tried not to make her skin burn. He had tried not to take the play too far. “Bend over,” he said, suddenly firm.

“What?” she asked.

“Bend over,” he repeated slowly. His cock jolted when she did, and swelled even more when she raised her buttcheeks higher. She propped her hands against the vanity table and waited for him to make the next move.

Lightly, he brushed her bottom with his fingers, then pulled off her thong, making sure she felt the tickling touch of his fingertips as he removed the lacy thing. Diana had stopped moving, the wriggling with which she had teased him now gone completely. She had noticed the change that had occurred within him, and Jerome was sure she was even holding her breath. As he drew circles over her skin, goose bumps emerged in their wake. They grew more pronounced in the whiff of cold air that brushed her butt as he let his hand come down on her cheek once again with all the force he could muster.

She moaned as his fingers left their mark on her skin. The next smack followed almost immediately.

Jerome pressed his hand against the spot he had just hit, making her feel the heat for as long as possible. He traced the line of her spine down to the crack of her butt, wondering what had happened in the last few minutes. All of a sudden, he couldn’t wait to give her the next blow, and he found his mind figuring out ways to make sure she got the most out of it. He wanted her to secretly beg, or maybe even very openly beg. He needed her to be unable to stay patient much longer, and he wanted the next smack to come as a surprise when it finally hit her.

But if she was yearning to be spanked again, she didn’t show it. The only sign was her ragged breath, which he could hear emerging from underneath her thick curls. She pulled herself together, surrendering complete control to him.

He spread her legs a bit farther apart so that he could better feel the dampness of her slim strip of bushy hair. His hand crawled up her inner thighs, then over the part where her butt met her thighs. Now was the moment. He knew it, and he could tell she was literally willing him to spank her.

His hand whizzed through the air and came down on her left cheek, the pain stinging his open palm the moment it struck her round, curvaceous sweetness. Her moaning grew more intense, and Jerome let a few spanks follow, the first ones hard and fast, the next more gentle, ending in an almost caressing slap. Even in the dim light, he could tell that her ass was burning. He could see the difference in color between her left and her right cheek. The pale, bare virginity of the right one tempted him, but he needed a short interlude, and he knew she did too.

“Did you like that?” he asked, just to say something, because her whole body gave away just how much he had turned her on.

She answered with an undefined grunt, then turned around and smiled at him. Her hand wandered to the bulk in his pants, and she started to massage him gently. “I knew you would like it too,” she chuckled. She searched his eyes. “And now that you’ve tasted it, you want more, don’t you?”

Instead of giving an answer, he pulled her hand away and pressed her against the table with gentle force. “I’m just giving you what you’ve longed for all along,” he whispered and teased her right cheek, grazing it with his fingernails. “And what you deserve.”

But that wasn’t the full truth. He did want more. And he was looking forward to turning her into putty beneath his hands, to making her right cheek sting as much as her left one. “And you long for more too, don’t you?” he asked.

She uttered an unwilling groan but got back into position. He was giddy with joy. How had he mastered a game that as recently as an hour ago, he never thought he’d play? What was it about her surrender that tempted him to savor it to the fullest? What was so intoxicating about knowing how much pleasure she derived from something he had thought was only painful?

She shivered as he took his hand away and for a moment, he kept it raised in the air so that he could enjoy her anticipation for as long as he could curb his own excitement. He placed his other hand on the small of her back, and under it he could feel impatience get the better of her as she squirmed underneath his grip—but only tentatively, never crossing the line to disobedience. He grew cocky now, and instead of giving her the release she craved, he let his fingers trail along her slit, pressing against her clit with tender force.

“Jerome,” she gasped against the tabletop.

“Do it already.” She wriggled her cheeks.

“Spank me,” she begged. “Please.”

He let his hand crash down on her butt, reddening her right cheek with one forceful slap of his open palm. The next blows followed quickly; he delivered whacks on her bare flesh until her cries of ecstasy were muffled by how hard she had to concentrate to absorb the intensity of his final smacks.

“Enough, baby?” he asked lovingly.

She nodded, unable to answer as her body hummed in the aftermath of the spanking she had received.

Jerome massaged his wrist. His cock pressed against his pants, but for a moment, while she brushed damp curls out of her face and regained her breath, he enjoyed just watching her red, swollen bottom. He brushed both cheeks lightly with the back of his hand, proudly taking in the heat. She certainly wouldn’t be forgetting his rough treatment any time soon.

Next, he began to caress her back, soothing her, calming her down until the quivers that shook her body grew quiet.

When he felt that she was ready for more, he slowly unbuckled his belt, opened his jeans and sighed with relief. Teasingly, he rubbed the tip of his cock against her wet slit. Diana moaned longingly, and it was nearly impossible for him to keep himself from plunging into her right away and taking her hard.

Instead, he continued to circle her teasingly while his other hand petted the warm, sore skin of her butt.

She pushed her bottom back, prompting him to enter her already, but instead of complying, he bent over and parted her curls.

“Diana?” he whispered into her ear.

“Hm?” she said, in more of a breathless utterance than a reply.

Jerome cupped her butt more firmly. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you at rehearsal tomorrow.”