'Bad Girl Blues'
“Am I red?” a tremulous whisper. Pause.
“Yes. You’re red.” Again. SMACK with the hairbrush.
“OWWW! I bet I’ll be a bit bruised.” SMACKSMACK!
“At the very least,” he thoughtfully agreed.
“Are you mad at me?”
Perhaps not the most astute of questions. Both of us being naked. Me
face down over his lap, and getting the hardest spanking I’ve
gotten in a long, long time!
Tried to school my voice so I didn’t sound like a whiny little brat…I don’t think I succeeded. I was trying for aggrieved martyr, but by his sigh at the question, I don’t think I pulled that off. WHACK! SMACK!
“Are you mad at me?” Looking back at him forlornly, my sweat-drenched hair falling in my face, like some wary street urchin.
The Sigh. “No… I’m not mad. But you’ve had hissy fits that I told you I won’t tolerate. The count is about 5 since I’ve seen you last.”
SMACK! SMACK! The spanking started again. The hard wooden paddle making me squirm, whimper, and beg like I NEVER do. WHACK!
“Uh UH! I have NOT had 5 hissy fits! How? Five? No way!”
“Are you contradicting me?” Spoken very quietly and calmly, I think even he was amazed at my stupid audacity.
“Uh… FIVE hissy fits?” WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! “No, I am not contradicting you! But--Five? …Okay, now there’s 5!” Only me being soooo smart.
He chuckled, I think. I felt him move under me—for several reasons—he being as naked as I, and the friction of our bodies wasn’t doing him any harm! No, he wasn’t feeling any pain. But I was. Major pain in the a--!
“Pleasepleaseplease…” I begged. My fingers curled around the metal frame of the bed, and I held on tight. His hand once again started in on my poor bottom.
“What did you say?” His hand stopped for an instance.
“I—I said…please…” hardly hearing my own voice anymore.
SMACKSMACK! The hand spanking
hadn’t let up in intensity: his power was as equal now as when
he’d first said,
“Come here.”
His large strong palm. The new, small hairbrush. The wooden hairbrush. The rectangle of ruthless wood that claimed both crimson cheeks equally. And strafed the backs of my screaming thighs…
And now his hand again, finishing off my punishment, making sure I wouldn’t forget.
“Now you’ll know what happens if you continue your hissy fits, don’t you?”
“Yes sir.” I mumbled submissively. (Please don’t be mad at me…)
“What happens? Tell me!” SMACKSMACK!
“OWWW! I’ll be punished!”
“How?” SMACK!
“However you wish,
sir.” My head hanging in sorrow, but I felt him laugh again. His
hand raised…
“I’ll be spanked! Over your knees. Spanked very HARD! I
promise not to have any more hissy fits!”
His fingers, gentle, probed
now, opening me. Cool gel trickled down my crack, he massaged it into
my bottom hole, soothing the way.
“Open for me…”
Butt plugs. Humiliating?
Embarrassing? Naughty girl penance.
Different sizes played in and out of me; I was still over his lap, a
captive.
But one who had no wish to escape.
Time was taken. He played me well. Knowing what was to come, he made
sure I would be ready.
“Get up. Over the pillows.”
I moved in a daze, almost falling off the bed in my haste to obey, before
collapsing over the pillows. Face down once more, hips raised. Legs
open. For him.
He entered me slowly. Which is an awesome task, he being hugely endowed.
There was method to his madness: he opened me that I could easier envelope
his throbbing cock. Still, his presence was overwhelming.
Overpowered, I submitted to him: my ass, my cunt, my mind, my soul.
I wanted him in me, his beautiful body rocking against my burning behind.
Slow stroking turned frenzied. My bottom rose to him, clenching him within me, milking him. His fingers dug into my skin, his body arched, tense like a panther. Ready to pounce.
His breath came out in a long sensuous exclamation. I felt him release into me, riding the last moments of our pleasure. Together.
No. I don’t think he’s mad at me anymore.