It's better than the swats in the shower. Much cleaner. The wine-colored crack of flesh-on-flesh shifts the air in the room to something more shallow, immediate, and warming darling as a kettle under Rose's touch.
"You'll --" Crack. "-- 'try'?" Crack. The temptation to continue laying into Pearl with an uncompromising hand presses against the inside of Rose's mouth, meaty. Nice to bite. It's an inviting crave. But she hasn't warmed her up, just yet, or at least not very well; another stinging slap instead becomes a lazy fondle. "You will." And then: "Tsk."
It will take some righteous tutting to make her feigned displeasure clear, given how lovingly she strokes the skin. For all that Pearl's bottom lacks generosity, it's delightfully well-shaped. Something of a fixation for Rose, really. Maybe if she invests enough indulgence and flattery and lingering, stinging attention, Pearl will take her up on trying more skirts. (At least that's been the strategy for awhile.)
She's touching with both hands now: massaging slow, and sumptuous. "You don't need to worry about 'trying.'" A pinch: just a little -- just enough to startle the nerves. Just enough to need kneading away, warm and tender, as Rose ponders how she'd like to have her tied tonight. "You're a plaything. That isn't up to you." Another gentle clap against her ass, and Rose coos: "Isn't that nice? To not have to worry."
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"You'll --" Crack. "-- 'try'?" Crack. The temptation to continue laying into Pearl with an uncompromising hand presses against the inside of Rose's mouth, meaty. Nice to bite. It's an inviting crave. But she hasn't warmed her up, just yet, or at least not very well; another stinging slap instead becomes a lazy fondle. "You will." And then: "Tsk."
It will take some righteous tutting to make her feigned displeasure clear, given how lovingly she strokes the skin. For all that Pearl's bottom lacks generosity, it's delightfully well-shaped. Something of a fixation for Rose, really. Maybe if she invests enough indulgence and flattery and lingering, stinging attention, Pearl will take her up on trying more skirts. (At least that's been the strategy for awhile.)
She's touching with both hands now: massaging slow, and sumptuous. "You don't need to worry about 'trying.'" A pinch: just a little -- just enough to startle the nerves. Just enough to need kneading away, warm and tender, as Rose ponders how she'd like to have her tied tonight. "You're a plaything. That isn't up to you." Another gentle clap against her ass, and Rose coos: "Isn't that nice? To not have to worry."