As I basked in the afterglow of the flower’s caress, a pause, a brief span of nothing, enveloped me. Inhaling, I felt my skin tighten, each nerve flaring in foresight of the impending pain. What implement would come next?

I gave a prolonged moan as he treated me to slow, permissive licks as one would with a cone of ambrosial gelato. I felt decadent, a sweet treat for his pleasure.

I shifted restlessly, imploring for more. He could do more, and I could certainly take more. Love pats turned to smacks, and still, I bore the retribution without wincing. The leather was a barrier mitigating the harsh sting of a traditional spanking.

I had specially chosen this particular naughty garment days in advance, knowing the cut of the booty shorts would perfectly accentuate my peached assets, and the deep V of the neckline, leading to the aforementioned buttons, would artistically reveal the newly acquired tattoo emblazoned on both rounded breasts and narrow sternum. 

Had I sustained an injury cuming so acutely?! I frantically tapped the Demigod’s bulging biceps in a timeout request. 

First, the Demigod moved toward me. His power wafted from his nude body the way heat simmers from a burning flame. Reaching around me, his fingers found my pearl, teasing and swirling as she swelled with need coming on his skilled fingers.

I attempted to quiet my cry, jaw clenched in restraint, but the Demigod knew better and took it as a personal challenge to redouble his efforts until my joy overshadowed the lilting melody.

The Demigod rose from between my noticeably weak and trembling limbs, his fingers connecting with my ripe inner jewel as I positioned my back onto the bed. Once more, the Demigod was mindful of our prearrangement and kept his movements steady but not aggressive.