New Year's Eve, The Climax

He stood up and slipped behind her. Her gown's top formed a halter, the better to display her ample cleavage, even from the side. She was a big girl, but she knew what he likes, and what he didn't like was too much modesty. Taking advantage of her pose, he slid his hands into her top from the sides. Her breasts were smooth, brown, and still perky in her fifties. Having never had the honor of becoming a mother, her girls had never gone through the swelling and deflation of pregnancy and its aftermath. He cupped them in his hands, gently and smoothly working his way to her tiny nipples, which he squeezed tenderly between his fingers. She sucked breath through her teeth and squirmed a little at the stimulus. 
Untying her halter, he let the top of her gown fall, exposing her tits all the way. Then he slapped each one in turn. "I am going to use you like a rented whore, little girl." His words sent a jolt through her body.
Now, usually when they met in a hotel room, they would use the television to mask the sound of her humiliation. Not this time. He didn't care who heard what he was about to do to her. He wanted her to feel like the whole world was witness to what was to come. 
"Come with me."
 "Yes, Sir."
 Leading her by the collar, he bent her over the foot of the bed and ran his hand across her bottom. The material of the gown was thin enough that he knew she would feel the impact of each blow. He admired her there, hands on the bedspread, tits hanging free, firm, round ass presented for his use.
The spanking began slowly, first one cheek, then the other. This was no warm up or anything like that. With each slap, her ass clenched involuntarily. By taking his time he knew that she would feel the burn of every single one. Soon, she was moaning softly and pleading with him. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I'll be good. Please, let's turn on the TV! Someone will hear!"
 "I hope they do," his tone flat, matter-of-fact. "I hope they're all hearing what happens to naughty sluts."
 His hand was stinging. It was time to use something else.
"Stand up." She complied. By this time she would gladly do anything he told her. She'd walk naked down the hall to fetch ice if that's what he wanted. She's was entering that sub space she so craved, in his hands, under his complete control.
He unzipped her dress and watched it fall to the floor, leaving her clad in only a garter belt, stockings, heels and collar.
"Fetch my hairbrush, little girl."
 He enjoyed the sight of her in this state of undress as she walked to the bathroom to get the dreaded wooden brush, but she didn't dawdle. If he thought she was trying to control things, the spanking would be worse - or better. Coming back to him, he stared at her firm, round tits and the sweet, shaved slit between her legs. What he wanted to do was to throw her down on the bed and fuck her right now, hard and deep. Certainly, his growing member agreed. But, that would be too easy.
She held the brush out to home with both hands, palms up. He hesitated before taking it from her. It was important that she experience her cooperation in her own humiliation fully.
"Bend over." She resumed her place. Ordinarily she might pick up her dress, fold it neatly, put it on the chair or the dresser. Truth be told, she craved this spanking as much as he craved giving it to her.
Still, there was the pain to deal with. She was a relatively fair-skinned black woman, but even the hand spanking had raised a red glow beneath the brown of her flesh. He swung the hairbrush hard. The loud thwack surprised her. The spanking that followed was just as methodical, and much more painful, than she was used to receiving from him. She began to moan in concert with the hairbrush, striking hard, pausing, striking again, never with the same exact timing so she couldn't clench in anticipation. 
When her entire bottom and her upper thighs (oh, how those swats burned!) were sufficiently hot, he dropped his pants and sat down in the easy chair. "Come here, slut, and suck your Master's cock." She was eager to comply. Dropping to her knees, she sucked fast, caressing his cock and balls with her fingers as she drew his hard, thick, pink member into her mouth and out again. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her head down until she began to gag when the head of his cock blocked her throat. She coughed. Her eyes watered. 'I didn't tell you to stop. Get your mouth back onto that cock, whore."
She went back to work, sucking and fondling and, sometimes, gagging, but his rod never left her mouth again until he stopped her.

(Part Four to Come)

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