I watched her shoot her legs out, so her scarlet ass was the highest part of her body, now resting on her hands and toes.
It occurred to me that I should make Raylene exercise more.
Not because she wasn’t fit. Her ass proclaimed, in blazing color, that she was a naughty girl and now she was being punished for it. That’s always a distracting sight, at least for people like me. And for Lynette, it seemed. But Raylene’s ass and thighs also told of hours spent on gym equipment, or more likely just walking up and down the hills of this harbourside city. She was a fit, strong girl.
She straightened up again. “Seven, Master!”
Even if I couldn’t always get her an audience, other than just me.
“Ah, eight, Master!”
I looked at Lynette. “Do you think she needs an exercise program? Something like cycling in the air, and more squat thrusts every night before bed?”
Lynette was watching Raylene’s ass. Fervently. But she looked up and said, “Yes. I think so.”
“Good girl.” That was to Raylene. To Lynette I said, “Well, we’ll see. Perhaps we’ll hold it off till midnight tonight.”
Dorabella laughed, I guess at Lynette’s expression. Or Raylene’s. “Ten, Master!”
But Dorabella tried to sound serious and helpful when she said, “She’s always wanted a coach. Haven’t you, Raylene? She thinks she doesn’t exercise enough. So, Jaime, I think it’d be good for her if you make her.”
“Eleven, Master!” Raylene’s voice had taken on that whiny tone again. She wasn’t sure she liked the direction this was going. Which, because life is sexy when it’s complicated, meant that she loved it.
We all watched her last squat thrust. She stood straight, breasts still quivering, ass still glowing. “Twelve, Master.”
After a second she put her hands on her head.