DRESSING YOU UP AND DRESSING ME DOWN......

Beth's wide white grin matches her broad panama hat and narrow white tie. The tie swings between her bare breasts, brushing over her nipples when she walks and hanging down past the waist of her hiked up white trousers.

"Hey there, pretty," she says. "Wow, that's quite the predicament you're in."

Her gaze lingers over Eric's body, from the bare, stockinged feet to the red and black plaid skirt almost sliding down his narrow hips with nothing to catch on. His white silk blouse is unbuttoned and hanging loose. He's kneeling down in the middle of the bed, wrists bound together with another pair of stockings, silky and black enough to make his skin look pale in comparison.

Eric tips his head back to meet her eyes, pushing the stray hair out of his eyes. They're green, just a thin circle of iris almost swallowed by the black of his pupils. He winks. "Hey, handsome. I could use a little help here."

"I don't know about that, pretty" Beth says, and makes a tsking noise as she steps closer. "You must have done something pretty bad to get all tied up like that." She rests her hands on his shoulders, kneading at the muscle, feeling the strain under her palms. She can feel he's nowhere near as calm as his serene grin makes him look. If she looked down she'd probably see the beginnings of a bulge in his skirt, but she doesn't look, not yet.

Eric shrugs into her hands. "Oh, I may be bad, but only if someone doesn't deserve me when I'm good." He licks his lips, slow and teasing. They gleam fire engine red under the electric lights. "But I can be good to you."

Beth lifts one hand to press the palm against his cheek. She taps her fingers against the broad plane of his face, feeling it curve and dimple under her hands. "Maybe I like you bad. Bad and helpless."



"And what do you do to bad and helpless girls?" Eric asks, but Beth isn't waiting for any more invitations. She pushes Eric forward so that he's on all fours, bound hands straining at the ties, ass pointed up and facing her under that thin cover of wool and cotton skirt.

"I teach 'em what they're good for," she says and shoves up his skirt. It should look ridiculous hanging up there, bunched around his waist. He's bare underneath, the black stockings suspended on a garter belt to show off his smooth, muscled ass. The skin almost glows, paler than the rest of him. It should look silly, this big, beautiful boy on his hands and knees, mussed and unbuttoned in skirt and stockings. Cock pushing up, beginning to stir against his belly when she glides her hands over the round curve of ass.

"What's that?" he whispers. "Show me or I might think you're all talk."

She grins and angles so that he can see her face when she licks one of her own fingers light and careful, slicking it up. He makes a sound, low and heavy and anything but ridiculous when she glides the finger down between the curve of his cheeks and inside, pushing at the edges of his hole. It feels slick, even given the spit. He'd let her watch earlier when he lubed himself up and now she can feel how wet he is, like he's a real girl, like it's the most natural thing in the world for him to moan and push against her, and for her to be able to slide in so easy and deep.

"You love it," she hisses in his ear. "But have you earned it?" She doesn't wait for an answer, just pulls her hand loose fast enough to make his hips jerk and force another whimper out of him.

She cracks it back down, open palmed against the pale, soft skin of his ass. It's all muscle under the skin, it might sting her palm as much as it does his body, but the mark it leaves, the red outline of her hand on his skin, makes her moan and shift her hips.

"Beth," he hisses. "Beth, please."

"Please what?" she asks. She leans over him so that the tie grazes over the long line of his spine, pooling into the hollow of his back. Her breasts press up against his shoulders, nipples already hard, standing out like points. Her hips shove right up against his ass so that he can feel the harness under her trousers, the one that's going to claim him, pressing into him.

Her breath is in his ear and she licks the lobe to hear the sound he makes.

"Please what? What do bad girls do to earn what they love?"

"They get spanked," he hisses. His voice is low and rough and she can feel it rumble through his body. "They get spanked and then fucked."

Beth smiles, broad and easy and presses her cheek against his so that he can feel it. "Yeah," she says. "That's exactly right."

He whimpers when she pushes off him, like he's disappointed, like he misses the weight of her already, but she doesn't give him time to miss her long. It's just the crack of her hand against his ass, over and over until he's gasping every breath, spine arched and ass pushing into the air, into her hand like it's longing for her touch.

"So hungry," she whispers, and he just moans a yes and keeps making that begging, arching gesture like he's never craved anything as much as her hand. She could have done it forever, just to watch that, watch the red spread over his skin, the marks that say she was there, she had her hands all over him and left the shape of her fingers on his body.

She could have done it forever, but she wants more, she wants what's next. She lets her arms fall down, rest against her sides, smooth and easy. After a long, empty moment of quiet, Eric makes a low sound and raises his head, craning his neck to look back at her. His face is almost as red as his ass, flushed all the way down his neck, and his eyes are gleaming wet. There's wet on his cheekbones too, and she wants to touch that almost desperately, wants to smooth her fingers in it and spread his tears all over his face like its come.

"Beth?" he whispers in a hoarse, cracked voice.

She meets his eyes straight on and grins when after a long second of staring he lowers his gaze. Her hands rest on the buttons of her trousers and she knows that's where all his attention is. One button after another she opens them up, slow and easy, until the shiny black dildo in its harness slides out. "See this?" she asks, stroking it lightly, like it was flesh, like it was hers. "This wants you pretty badly, Eric. This is what's going to have your ass."

He shivers hard enough that she can see it take him, a long, body deep shiver, like he's cold, like she hasn't warmed up his ass enough yet. "Yes," he says. "Yes. I see. Please. Come on."

Their eyes meet one last time, steady, acknowledging the same hunger. Then he sighs and lowers his head, tilts his ass up like he's presenting his body to her. For her.

"That's my girl. My good girl," Beth whispers and then she moves. He's so ready, so open, it's smooth and easy to push inside him. He makes another sound, low and rough, aching. She's so deep in him now she can feel the heat of his skin against her hips. Feel the way his body trembles, see the way his hands twist in their bonds underneath him.

"Bet you want to touch yourself," she croons. She slides one hand down his belly, feeling the shift of skin and muscle, the tension. She lets her hips slide back, almost out of him, and then back in, reveling in the smoothness of the fuck, the way he strains against her but doesn't fight it. "Bet you'd beg to have me touch you. Touch that pretty, hungry cock of yours."

"Please," he whispers. "Oh fuck, please. Come on. Come on."

She thrusts in slowly and lets him feel it until her stomach and breasts press hard against his back, until she's draped over him, the fake cock all the way inside him. "No," she tells him softly. "That's not how you're going to come, Eric."

"Beth," he whimpers. "I--"

"No," she repeats, quiet and firm, just resting inside him. "No one's going to touch it, Eric. Not you and not me. Do you want me to tell you what's going to happen?"

He makes a noise and she glides her hand down his belly again, stopping to rest over his navel and holding him there. "You're so hungry," she whispers to him. "I can feel it. I think you can get there, just with me in you. I think you can. But if you can't..."

"What?" he begs, soft and rough. "What if I can't?"

She smiles and presses a slow, wet kiss into his shoulder. "Well, maybe if you beg me really pretty I'll slide out of you and let you turn yourself around. Let you get down on your knees on the floor. Keep your hands tied, just like they are, but let you push those hips of yours, that hungry thing of yours, against my leg." She rubs one leg against his thigh, letting him feel the roughness of the fabric of her trousers. "Would you like that? Do you need it that badly?"

"Yes," he hisses in time with her next thrust and she can feel him nod like she can hear him talk. Short, sharp words, like those are the only kind he has the breath for. "Yes, please, let me do that. I want to... can I? Please? please…"

"Good," she says and if her breath is coming too hard and fast, she has reason. She shudders and thrusts in a few more times, sharp and short, feeling the blunt end of the harness push up against her. Almost enough for her, like it's almost enough for him. Crazy making, like watching his cock strain against the air.

She slides out of him, slow as she can, letting him feel every inch, wishing she could feel it, the heat of his insides, wishing she had the skin to feel it. See it is almost enough.

He's gasping, gone an even brighter red than before, face and neck flushed, his cock the same deep color as his ass. He stumbles when he moves, like his knees ache and his bound hands make him clumsy, but he doesn't hesitate. He should look... should look something other than golden and red and beautiful, especially with that skirt slipping half down and askew, tented up where it half covers his cock. But his eyes are so wide and fearlessly hungry and there's something in them so serene and here with her. Sure of her.

She wants to kiss him and she doesn't deny herself, taking his mouth and sighing when he parts his lips, when his tongue pushes against hers, powerful and there, but quiescent against her when she asks because she's the one asking.

"Please, Beth," he whispers into her mouth when the kiss breaks. "I want to. Then I want to lick you. Can I do that? Can I... after you let me come, can I lick you? Be your good girl?"

"Yeah," she whispers, and she's the one that sounds hoarse now. "Yeah, of course. Come on."

He slides down off the bed, onto his knees and she swings around to let her feet rest on the floor. She gestures with the crook of her finger and he comes to her, like her pet, her girl, her Eric. His hands press to the floor and she can feel the pressure of his cock rubbing against her leg through the layers of skirt and trousers. She can't resist cupping his face in between her palms and lifting it up so that she can see him, see the look while he does this, makes himself come like this.

It's fast and hard, a few low, bitten off moans and then he's there, a stain spreading over the fabric of his skirt. His body goes lax, resting against her knee, panting and gasping for air. Her hands shake when she undoes the dildo harness but when he moves again, his cheek pressed against her thigh so the she can feel the light brush of stubble, she's more than ready.

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