The sun is streaming in the window when you wake. For over an hour you've been sleeping in my arms and I've been carefully reading a book by holding it behind your head. "Good morning, my darling!" I say gently to you. "How do you feel this morning?"

You stretch and writhe and snuggle up to me, your smooth body sliding against mine. "Naughty," you say.

"Fuck me hard naughty, or fuck me in public naughty?" I need to know, because the second requires planning, whereas the first is something I've been contemplating since the early hours of the morning.

"Fuck someone else and make me lick her out naughty," you answer. Very naughty indeed. You wrap your arms around me tightly and say "Do what you want to me."

At this point I desperately want to fuck you hard, but you've made me an offer too good to knock back. I reach behind you to take the bottle of oil, and pour a little onto your ass crack. My fingers massage your arsehole as I contemplate my opportunity. As I gently explore your puckered hole you grind your cunt against my leg. You have no hair down there, and I can feel your lips part and the moisture between your legs tells me you're excited. I look out the window at the branches of the trees blowing in the wind, deep in thought. As I slip my finger into your arse up to the first knuckle you moan and say "Do it to me, please." You're begging to be taken. You snuggle your head into my neck and I absent-mindedly nibble on your earlobe as the curtains rise and fall in the breeze.

I slip my tongue into your ear, and my finger deep into your arse and you gasp in ecstacy and anticipation. "Let's have a shower," I say.

In the shower you attempt to get my attention my dropping to your knees and sucking me in until you gag. That does, in fact, get my attention, but there'll be time for that later. For the moment, I'm a man with a plan. I make you shave your cunt again, to be sure. After all, stubble is unsightly.

You use your mouth, your hands, your cunt, and everything else you can think of to try to persuade me to take you, but I resist. All I will say is "Never fear, my sweet, you WILL be taken." Even as I take you to the bed room and dress you in a tight white mid-riff T-shirt and a short light skirt - no underwear - you are begging me to penetrate you.

I examine your costume. Without too much effort, your brown nipples can be seen through the T-shirt. The skirt can't be seen through, but your bald pussy is under there, unencumbered and unprotected. "Let's go for a walk," I say.

I drive you to the cafe strip by the beach. On this Saturday morning the cafes are full of couples and families and cyclists drinking coffee and eating croissants while watching the waves roll in across the road. The outside tables are not so full this morning, as the wind is tending to blow napkins and menus and hair into faces. In fact, as we get out of the car, it lifts up your skirt and you hurriedly hold your skirt down to preserve your modesty.

I laugh and come around the car to hold you tight. I say quietly into your ear "Now let's see how naughty you want to be. The wind is going to be blowing your skirt all the time we're here. If you really want to be naughty, you'll let it lift up and all the world will see your beautiful pussy. But if you don't want to be naughty..."

You look at me wide-eyed, and look at the street full of people to whom I am proposing you be exposed. "What if I don't want to be naughty?" you ask.

"For every time you hold your skirt down, I will give you one lash of the whip." You gasp. The whip is a small one we bought at the adult store, but it can hurt when wielded with intent. As if reading your thoughts, I say "And I promise, it WILL hurt."

I can feel your heart beating faster as we start to walk along the street. I'm holding your hand, but as we approach the first cafe there's a gust of wind that causes the awnings to flap noisily, and you pull from my grasp to hold your skirt down. "One!" I say, and look at you smugly. "One beautiful lash!" I laugh evilly.

After fifteen minutes, when we've walked along the street and back, the count is at 13. "Unlucky for some," I tell you as we get in the car. You're embarrassed enough at the stares your nipples elicited, let alone the several times you may have had your pussy flashed momentarily and then had the count increased anyway. "It could have been worse," I tell you. "I could have held one hand and given you coffee to hold in the other." You express some sentiment about small mercies.

We get home and walk quietly to the bed room. You try to joke with me, looking for signs of mercy, but I show none, and you've become scared. You're afraid I'll hurt you, maybe. Or that I won't hurt you enough. We come to the bedroom and I tell you "Strip." You obey, instantly. I push you face down on the bed, rougher than necessary. You cross your wrists and hold them above your head. I take the whip from the bed-side drawer, and hit you, hard, across the buttocks. You cry out, and the red marks appear in seconds. I wait about 5 seconds and hit you again. And again, and again. Thirteen times.

By the last stroke you're crying with each lash, but you never uncross your wrists or turn over. You asked for naughtiness, and you've got it. After the thirteenth stroke I crawl between your legs, life your hips, and finally penetrate you. My prick is rock hard, and my thrusting is brutal. I don't only thrust into you, I pull your entire body backwards with each stroke, so that you are thrown like a rag doll on the end of my cock. After only a couple of minutes I come inside you with an intensity that makes my legs quiver. I literally drop you on the bed, and collapse on top of you. We lie together, exhausted, in each other's arms, smeared with each other's juices.

Several more times during the day we fuck, each time urgently. The memory of the morning's encounter is like a bond between us - we pass by each other in the hall, look at each other, and fuck on the floor like wild animals. We hang up washing together, and have to rush back to the laundry before we end up fucking in the back yard. In the evening, we cuddle together watching TV, and my prick is erect and inside you for an hour.

Finally that night we fuck one more time, no... two more times... and talk long into the night. Make that three more times. The lust is upon us, and it's only when we fall into unconsciousness that we are finally able to keep our groins apart. We sleep in each other's arms.

The next Saturday morning, I once again ask you how you feel. "Naughty," you say.

This time I make a new rule. You take the lashes first, before we go out. When you reach that count, I'll buy the coffee.

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