Guessing game

When Veronica mentioned that she was an artist, I half-assumed she was just deflecting an implied question about what she did for a living. At first I didn't assume she was telling the truth. After all, there was no art on the walls of her flat - one of those awkward top-floor former attics in Finsbury Park that didn't have much vertical wall space anyway.

The cool austerity of her home was kind of sexy in its own way. She was 5 months into a 12-month residency in London when I met her, and she seemed to have moved into a furnished flat with two suitcases full of clothes, and not much else.

One afternoon, last summer, I tied her hands behind her back, bent her over the white plastic top of the kitchen table, and attached her ankles to its feet on either side. She giggled and sighed when her nipples touched the cold veneer.

I grabbed a flat wooden spatula that stood in a large glass jar next to the cooker, and ran it in a circle around her right buttock.

She couldn't see what I was holding. "What the fuck is that?"

"Let's see if you can guess." I gave her an experimental whack with it, more of a tease than anything else. "I'll hit you with it until you figure it out."

I gave her another, in a fresh spot on the left cheek of her bottom.

"Owww!" she squealed. "What the fuck is that?"

Harder this time, I struck the same spot a few times in quick succession. "Feel free to repeat yourself while I spank you."

Just to make things more interesting I set the spatula aside and spanked her with my bara hand, harder and faster.

"That's cheating!" she squealed, wiggling around in discomfort and pleasure.

"Maybe. But you're not in a position to enforce any rules, are you?"

I gave her another swipe with the spatula, just to emphasise my point.

"Umm, rolled-up newspaper?" she ventured.

By the time she identified my improvised spanking toy correctly her bottom was pink, red, and a couple of matching bruises were forming.

I took a bag of ice cubes from the freezer, wrapped it in a dish towel and put it on Veronica's hot, throbbing skin. She was sweating, sliding around on the slick plastic surface underneath her.

"Mon?"

"Yes?" I lifted the bag of ice from her ass.

"Touch my clit.... please."

I didn't answer right away, just bent down and spread her open from behind. The pink lips of her pussy were plump with arousal. When I pulled her buttocks apart, a little bead dripped on to the floor.

"How? With my fingers... tongue? Any preferences?"

Her body tensed with frustration and she pushed herself back at me. "You motherfucking bastard..."

I took this as an encouraging sign and leaned forward to meet her with my tongue stretched out. I took a long, greedy, flat lick of her pussy from clitoris to perineum. When I circled back again with my tongue she hissed a barely-articulated "Yessssssssss...." and stood perfectly still. I didn't have the heart to tease her any more, and licked her in the steady circular motions she liked. Veronica, when she comes hard, becomes still and quiet just before the explosion.

I could hear her taking a deep breath, then holding it. Then the hot burst of her cum squirted into my mouth and down my chin just before she let out a deep growl from the pit of her stomach.

When she finished twitching, I stood up and reached for a condom.

"Aren't you going to let me go?" she asked, rhetorically, while I put it on.

"Sure." The tip of my cock touched the glistening lips of her pussy. She arched her back. "But first I'm going to make very good use of you."