Wicked Wednesday: Writhing, kicking and bawling

Jennifer heard me sigh. She knew I was appreciating the view she was giving me, over my lap. And she remembered why she was in that place. She said, “Please sir, please give me the slipper. Hard. Don’t show me any mercy, even if it blisters my bottom.”

Her voice was shaky, high-pitched, on ‘blisters my bottom’. She found that was a scary thought.

In reality I wasn’t going to raise any blisters, not on a first slippering. But a little fear would do her no harm. I said, “Good girl. You asked very nicely. And of course I shall.”

I placed the slipper on the crown of her left buttock, so she knew where the next wave of pain would arrive.

Then I raised it, drawing it up over my shoulder. Jennifer said, “Oooh,” when the slipper was gone. I let her wait while I counted, slowly, to five. Then I swept the slipper down, landing on her bottom with a solid, rubber on skin impact. The sound was louder than a pistol shot. Jennifer screamed, and her body stiffened.

I watched her fight for control, and brought the slipper down again. Both cheeks were showing a slipper-shaped mark, blossoming to a deeper red than the marks left by my hand.

Jennifer writhed and screamed and cried, her arms and legs flailing, while I held her in place and continued.

After the first six I concentrated on the softer skin of her lower bottom, and the volume and urgency of her cries escalated. I gave her the eleventh and twelfth strokes on the backs of her thighs, sending her frantic. She was weeping copiously, and the tears flew in the air as she wildly bobbed and shook her head.

I stopped after the twelfth stroke. “You’re halfway done, Jennifer, girl.” If she heard me she gave no sign, still writhing, kicking and bawling. I said, “Settle down, Jennifer. I’m allowing you this time to recover yourself. But you will be quiet and behave yourself.” Still no difference.

I let my voice become harder. “You lie still and keep quiet right now, Jennifer, or I’ll give you extra!”

That worked magic. She put her legs together and pressed her thighs down, over mine. She pressed her fingers on the carpet and pushed herself back a little, so her bottom was again in perfect position for me.

And she stopped her wailing, though the tears still flowed.

“Good girl,” I said. “Now, you have another dozen with the slipper to go. Plus six penalty strokes. Would you rather have them now, or come back to my office tomorrow to take them then?”

Jennifer froze. For a long time she said nothing. 

Wicked Wednesday: Kiss the slipper

I watched while Jennifer crawled to the cupboard, and opened it. It was a cornucopia, for her, of instruments and devices meant to restrain her, to constrict her and to cause her pain. They told her about her future. Her eyes were wide open. She made no sound.

Her mouth was open too, but she was fascinated rather than frightened. She was a girl who’d admitted she needed discipline and direction, and these items were for just that. She found the slipper and reached for it. She held it in her hand, and looked at me; crawling on hands and knees back to me would be awkward.

I said, as if I was annoyed with her, “Hold it in your mouth, girl! And come here!”

I sat back in the chair where she’d had the first half of her spanking. Jennifer crawled towards me. Her eyes were blank; she was focussed within herself. I think she was lost in this new reality, where strange, painful but sexual things happened, and she could neither predict nor choose what they would be. That was terrible, and it was hot.

I took the slipper from her mouth and caressed her hair with my hand, as though she were a cat, or dog. I said, “Still on your knees, but upright girl. Up!”

Jennifer straightened her back. I brushed hair away from her face with my fingers. “How are you doing? I know your bottom hurts. It’s meant to, I’m afraid, and you deserve it. But are you all right? Emotionally?”

“Sir, that was terrible. Awful.” But her eyes were clear, and she didn’t seem to feel that ‘awful’ was such a bad thing. “I know I deserved it, sir. And I want to clean the slate. I was behaving… very badly. But it huuurt. It still hurts. And I’m afraid of what comes next. The slipper’s going to hurt even more, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It stings like fire, I’m afraid, Jennifer. It can raise blisters on your bottom. Literally. But you don’t get as many strokes.  I think two dozen will finish this. Perhaps more, if you don’t keep still for me.”

“I’ll try, sir. But it’s so hard not to try to get away. You spank very hard, sir. If the slipper’s worse than your hand, I may go out of my mind.”

I reached down to the kneeling girl, and drew her in for a hug. “You’re going to learn, little one, that a sore bottom motivates good behaviour and deters you from bad. No matter how much it hurts, it happens because I care about you, and your well-being.”

She looked down, her hair falling over her face. I brushed it away. “I know you care about me, sir. I can feel that even when it hurts so much I think I can’t bear it.”

“Well, this won’t be the last time I make your bottom sore. And you’ll learn something else, which is that getting a sore bottom, when you deserve one, isn’t the end of the world. Girls have been getting spankings for thousands of years, and yet there are still girls.”

She frowned at that, and her brow cleared when she realised I knew I was talking nonsense. She smiled, and wriggled forwards in my arms to kiss my neck.  “Well, I’m only one girl. Am I going to get thousands of spankings in one year?”

“Well, thousands means plural. Two thousand spankings would mean I have to spank you six times a day, every day.”

“That’s silly, sir!”

“Oh? Silly?” My voice suggested that she might be on dangerous ground.

“Of course. You’d only have to spank me five point four-seven times a day. Five and a half spankings, with rounding up.”

I laughed, and then she joined in, giggling at her own silliness. “All right, Jennifer. It’s time, girl. Kiss the slipper.” I held it to her lips. She kissed the rubber side warily. “Good girl. Now get over my lap, bottom up, head down, and ask me nicely to slipper you hard. Without mercy, even if your bottom blisters.”

The corners of her mouth fell. She remembered where she was, and that she would be crying again, like a baby, all too soon. But she placed herself lithely over my knee. This time she held my shin with both hands to steady herself, and her thighs were a little open, all primness forgotten. Her little pussy pouted at me, damp and plump from her own arousal, in that softest valley between her buttocks and her thighs. I sighed at the beauty of it, and of Jennifer.

Wicked Wednesday: Hands and knees

I’d asked Jennifer if she was working her way back to being a good girl. Jennifer took nearly twenty seconds to respond. Her head shook, but she decided to keep her nose to the corner. “Yes, sir, I hope so.”

I smiled at Maddie, almost awed at Jennifer’s complicity. Maddie grinned. She knew what that had cost Jennifer, and how happy it had made me. She said, “But she’s not quite a good girl yet, is she?”

“No, not quite. She has a little way to go. I’m sure you’ll hear some more crying shortly. But she’ll be fine.” Jennifer made another little sound in her throat. She was shaking now, and about to cry again.

“If you need me to hold her down…”

“Oh, I think Jennifer knows better than to try to get up. Don’t you, Jennifer?”

There was a longer gap. And there were sobs again. At last she said, with phlegm in her voice, “Yes, sir. I will be good. You know that.”

Maddie and I exchanged smiles. Maddie had caught some of my admiration for this girl. She said, “I’ll hunt out that draft. Do I bring it in even if you’re dealing with Jennifer?”

That seemed a powerfully erotic possibility. A confrontation between the two of them while Jennifer was under the intimacy of discipline. But I said, “No, I think we’ll allow Jennifer some privacy while she’s finishing her punishment. I’ll send for you when I’ve finished.”

Another muffled sound from Jennifer. The tears were coursing down her cheeks again. I stood up. “”Jennifer.”

“Sir?”

“Come here. And Maddie, that’s all for now.” But Maddie watched poor scarlet-bottomed, scarlet-faced Jennifer get up and totter towards me. When I’d caught Jennifer in my arms and embraced her she left.

Jennifer, in my arms, looked up at me. “Sir. I try to be a good girl. I know I deserve punishment. And I know I need… direction.” I brushed the tears from her cheeks with my right hand.

I smiled at her. She tried to smile back, but she was a sad, spanked, humiliated girl. “But it’s so much. It’s so new for me. What… What’s next, sir?”

I put my hand on her poor blazing bottom, and let my fingers press low, between her buttocks, nearly – almost – touching her pussy. I held her tight, and kissed her forehead.  She buried her head in the crook of my right arm, and relaxed there. We both wanted more than we could give each other at that moment. Waiting was hard, for both of us, but it was good, too. I kissed her forehead again and she moaned, but it was a far, far happier sound.

“Do you see the cupboard behind my desk?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want you to go to it now, and open it. You’ll see a lot of things designed for naughty girls like you: canes, paddles, straps and more.”

“Sir?”

“Just a moment.” I made her take a step back, and undid the two bottom buttons of her school blouse. I pulled the tails to the front and tied them, above her hipbones, so they couldn’t come down and interrupt what was to come.

“Now, Jennifer, go to the cupboard. You’ll see it’s full of what are called instruments of discipline.” She nodded, awed. “You’ll get to know most of the things in there, and what they’re for, over the next year or so. But I want you to find the slipper. A man’s slipper. It’s an old one of mine, actually. It’s got a plaid pattern, and a rubber sole. Fetch that, and bring it to me.”

Jennifer turned to the cupboard. I smacked her bottom sharply, and she yelped, putting her hands where I’d smacked. “No, girl, you don’t walk. On your hands and knees, Jennifer.” I smacked her poor sensitive bottom again, getting another yelp. “Go!” 

Wicked Wednesday: Nose to the wall

I knew Jennifer thought her spanking was over. She’d heard me say she’d been a good girl during her punishment, and hadn’t processed that I’d said, so far. She was in for a mild surprise. But I patted her prettily red bottom, and said, ““You can roll off, now, little one. Good precious girl. Kneel between my knees.”

Jennifer moaned. Her body was hard to move, and painful. But she lowered her knees to the carpet, and looked up at me. A more experienced girl would probably have directed her attention to my cock at that moment. It was a tent-peg in my trousers, as blatant in my need as she’d been in hers. But Jennifer paid my cock no attention, neither as sexual prize nor threat. Instead she looked at my face and snuffled again, tears still descending down her cheeks.

“I know what you mean, now, sir. When you said I really won’t do it again, once I’ve been punished for it. I really won’t forget now, sir.”

I smiled down at her, and cupped her face fondly. “You’ve been a good, brave girl, so far.”

This time she heard it. “So far?”

“Yes, little Jennifer. You’re at the halfway point. I want this to be a body memory for you.”

“Oh, sir. My body will certainly remember this!” That was a flash of humour. She’d already recovered a little.

“Yes. But my work isn’t done yet, pretty Jennifer. And I’m afraid nor is your lesson.”

“Oh, sir. I really hurt!”

I handed her a handful of tissues. “Blow your nose now, Jennifer. And dry your eyes.” She took the tissues gratefully and honked into them as decorously as she could. “Good girl!” I said when she finished. I took them from her and tossed them into the bin behind my desk.

She looked up at me, waiting to be told what to do. She’d noticed my cock. She hoped, I think, that my next order might involve her doing something about that. I suppose she’d read about fellatio, and heard other girls talk about it. If that had been my order I believe she’d have obeyed with relief, and I’d have come in her mouth in less than a minute. But it was too early to lead her into direct, unambiguous sexual activity.

I said, “Get up now, little one. Go and stand in the corner, nose right in the corner with you. Hands on head!”

“Sir.” She got to her feet, and walked to the corner. She stayed there, red bottom and thighs arched out a little, breasts and nose pressed to the wall.

I let her stay there for ten minutes, while I worked on a proposal for city funding for the swimming pool. Though it was as hard for me to concentrate as, I’m sure, it was hard for Jennifer to stay in place. After fifteen minutes I pushed a button on the desk phone. A minute later Maddie entered the room. Jennifer, to do her credit, know better than to look round when she heard the door open.

“Can you bring me the earlier draft of the swimming pool proposal? I’d put some notes on it.”

Maddie knew why she was in the room. “Of course.” She made a show of noticing Jennifer. “Oh! She’s been very well spanked. I thought Jennifer was a good girl?”

Jennifer made a low, distressed sound in her throat. But she didn’t move. “Well, she’s earning her way back to good-girl status. Aren’t you, Jennifer?”

 

Wicked Wednesday: Tears before the pause

I put one hand on the small of her back, pressing her down. She sighed. Not unhappily. We were agreed, Jennifer and I, that this must be done. I said, “Can you remember, what was going through your mind, just before you bent over to show off to those boys?”

“I don’t know, sir. I don’t–”

“Well, Jennifer, that moment led you into pain and shame. I want you to remember that.”

“Sir?” But the discussion was over. I brought my hand down, hard, on her bare bottom, across both cheeks, and the pistol shot sound and her first, astonished wail, filled the room simultaneously.

“You will never, Jennifer!”

Then a series of hard spanks, one side then the other, two on her lower buttocks and two on the soft bubble-butt crown of her bottom, then another in the centre, across both cheeks, now bounding, out of her control, while she yowled.

“Make that disgraceful display of yourself again!”

Then I gave her another six, just as hard. Reality for Jennifer was all motion and heat and pain, and her own cries while I lectured her, one or two words for each smack. “You! Are! Not! To Be! A Silly.”

Then I changed the rhythm, speeding up. Her bottom was energetically mobile, and she howled, her feet kicking and her hair flying. I get her another six hard smacks, my palm landing four times across the lower slopes of her bottom, and twice on her thighs. “Little!” I roared.

The next six, delivered lustily and fast were all directed across her upper thighs. “Flasher!”

That was unfair, of course. Jennifer was an innocent, too innocent for her own good. But I wanted her to take more care; innocence mixed with acting out can be a dangerous combination.

I’d considered saying “slut!”, a powerful word for girls, since I wanted her tears to spill. But “slut” was too strong for her, and I didn’t want her internalise it.

‘Flasher’, plus a sore bottom, would do. I resumed her spanking as hard as before, her bottom and thighs blazing red and in wild motion. And there was a change in her reaction. She was bawling like a baby, unrestrained, weeping, her nose running, tears shaken from her eyes to the floor below her. She was sorry, now, and not just because she was being spanked.

She’d forgotten about modesty. Her legs sprawled again, though this time in furious motion. Her pretty pussy presented itself to me, wet and desperately in need of comfort. Or of any attention at all: if I spanked her soft lips she would come as surely as if I stroked her. I tightened my grip on the small of her back, and continued her spanking, hard, loud, in a steady rhythm.

At last, after about sixty spanks, I leaned down, still holding her in place, and spoke more gently, near her ear. “But you’ll learn to behave, won’t you?”

She was still wailing in her pain and her shame. She hiccoughed several times before she could answer me, even though I’d let my hand rest on her blazing hot bottom. “Y-yes, s-s-sir.”

“I think you will too.” I was so hard for her, at that moment. I had enjoyed spanking her sweet little bottom, but it was her submission that called to me. She knew it, of course, and she pressed herself on my cock. There was something comforting for her in its hardness at her proximity, in the energy that had passed between us, and simply in the feel of it. She liked my penis and its response to her, and she’d sometimes moved her body so it was held between her thighs, though the spanking prevented her from carrying out any plans involving the placing of her body: the pain and heat had mostly controlled her movements, not her.   

Her snuffles had subsided, but she had cried, thoroughly and without control or dignity, for several minutes. I smiled down at her body, now resting across my knees. I wanted to pat her bottom, but at that moment no contact of that hot, red skin would act as a comfort.

Instead I said, “You’ve been a good and brave girl, so far.”” She smiled. I don’t think she noted the “so far”.

She’d thought she’d been dealt with and this was over. But this was only a pause. 

Wicked Wednesday: Let the good girl shine

Jennifer’s legs, now bare, were perfectly beautiful, just the right balance of slimness and plumpness, her inner thighs touching but parting again for that adorable gap at the top, just below her pussy, so tightly confined by another scrap of white cotton, no bigger than yesterday’s panties had been. She’d known that I was going to spank her again, so she’d chosen those deliberately, as display.

I smiled at her. “Now the panties. I’m going to spank your bottom, Jennifer. Not some cotton.”

“You– You mean down to my knees? Sir?”

“No, Jennifer.” She gave me her beseeching face again.

It was a very pretty look for her, and I’m sure she knew it. “Down to your feet, and then you step out of them. I mean, off!”

“Oh. Yes, sir.” She had courage enough to sound sulky. I’d cure her of sulkiness, but I admired her for it just the same. She put her hands on the panty hems, and slid them very slowly, at least until they bunched at the top of her thighs, below her pussy. The skin around and a little above that vertical pout was lightly furred. The two girls I’d paddled, the first to have to reveal details like that in front of me, had been neatly shaven. But Jennifer was a less sophisticated girl. 

But once her pussy was exposed she must have felt that she was committed. Face aflame, looking into my eyes, she pushed them down her thighs and allowed them to drop from her knees to her ankles. Then, keeping her thighs tightly together, she stepped out of them and lowered herself, still watching my face, to pick them up.

“Good girl. Now hang them up – neatly, mind you – on the rack.”

“Oh. Yes, sir.” And she turned, sweet thighs and pale round bottom bobbing, while she folded her skirt and put it on its peg, and did the same with her panties. The she turned back. She was smiling, but with her eyes down. She knew I’d enjoyed the view she’d provided me.

I said, “Good girl. There are things we have to deal with, in your behaviour, but I do know that you’re a very, very good girl at heart. We’re going to let that good girl out and let her shine, from now on, aren’t we?”

The smile widened. That sounded like a good idea. “Yes, sir!”

“But the bad girl still has to be punished. You already know what to do, Jennifer. Get over my knee, girl.”

Jennifer placed herself over my knee, almost diving. She wasn’t afraid, but she was shy again. She kept her thighs together. I didn’t mind that. It wouldn’t last more than a few seconds.

Wicked Wednesday: Jennifer accepts her fate

“Good girl.” I put my hands on her shoulders and set her up straight. “Now, Jennifer, we’ll discuss your first assignment before you leave the office this afternoon. But there’s a third reason you were to come to the office after school. Can you remember?”

“Yes, sir.” Then she hung her head. “I was showing off to the boys. My bottom, and my… pussy, sir. I know that was stupid of me. And you’re going to punish me for it.”

“That’s right, girl. I don’t want you to do that ever again.”

“I know, sir! And I won’t! I promise! I don’t want to ever be like that girl again!” ‘That girl’ meant her, only a day ago. 

“Of course, Jennifer. That’s what all girls like you say, before they’ve been punished.”

“Please, sir! I’ll never do that again!”

“We’ll only know that’s true after you’ve had your bottom warmed. That’s when you say it and really mean it.”

Her eyes were shining, her eyebrows pleading. “I mean it now, sir! Honest I do!”

“Well, we’ll see. You will make that promise to me again, little Jennifer. But that will be when your bottom is bright red and hot, and you have tears running down your cheeks.”

“Oh.” She moved her right foot to the left of her left foot, crossing her legs. She squirmed.

“When I tell you I’ve finished dealing with you, you’ll make that promise again. And you’ll mean it with every cell in your body. You’ll be surprised how much you mean it, compared to now.”

“I do mean it now, sir. Honest I do.”

I smiled at her. “The difference is that once I’ve finished with you this afternoon, if it ever crossed your mind to do that again, even for a second, you’ll feel a twinge in your bottom.”

Jennifer put her hands back, to rub her bottom. She’d been spanked only yesterday for skipping classes, and it had already had a big effect on her behaviour. No doubt she could feel it, not still hurting, exactly, but still sensitive.

I smiled at her. “You’ll remember – your body will remember – what it cost you last time. And that will keep you behaving like a good girl.”

Jennifer paused, to consider that. Then she nodded. It made sense to her. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now take off your blazer. And that skirt.”

“Sir? Do I have to?”

“You just earned six extra. Do you want to question my instructions again, or will you start doing as you’re told?”

“Sorry, sir.” The jacket came off quickly and easily. She put it on the clothes rack on my wall.

The skirt was a more measured matter, one that took fumbling at catches and buttons.  I watched her, amused. Even though the little skirt she’d worn yesterday had been no protection, either for her bottom or her modesty, taking the skirt off was a stronger gesture. It meant consciously abandoning one line of her defences. I let her come to terms with that at her own speed.

Eventually she unwrapped it, and stood for a moment, facing me. She had the skirt in her hand. She was, I suppose, shy about turning her back on me to hang it up on the rack. So we looked at each other for a moment.

Wicked Wednesday: Jennifer in my office

The next day Jennifer came to my office as I’d told her to do, after school. She was wearing her new uniform. It was less cheerfully obscene than the too-small version her mother had bought, but she looked radiantly happy in it.

She looked at me, proud. Then she faltered, worried that I might think she’d chosen wrong. I said, “That’s perfect, Jennifer. It fits you perfectly. It looks, really, very good on you. Flattering. You did very well.”

She beamed. She wanted to feel confident. A girl who has felt a man’s cock harden for her has no doubt of her enchantment over him. But she still wanted to know she’d done right.

I pointed my finger at her, and made a little circle in the air. “Turn around.” She turned, so I could admire her from the back, looking back over her shoulder. I admired her, but I said, “I meant, twirl.”

She frowned, puzzled. She completed her turn so she faced me again. I said, “Twirl. In that skirt. Quickly, like a cheerleader.”

“Oh!” She spun so the skirt flared out and lifted. Her white panties and the sweet gap at the top of her thighs were exposed, then hidden as she came to a stop.

“Like that, sir?”

“Exactly like that. Good girl. You chose well. And no one else is to see you do that, you understand, except me.”

“I’ll twirl whenever you want, sir.”

I got up from my desk, and walked towards her. She stepped forward to meet me, and she kissed me again. I held her, and we pressed bodies together. “Now, little Jennifer, why are you here?”

“Sir?” It was too broad a question.

“In my office. After school.”

“Oh. Well, you wanted to see me in my new uniform, sir. Thank you, thank you!” I was holding her whole weight; she’d leaned into me with her hands around my neck, and relaxed.

“And you look perfect, Jennifer.” I kissed her, mouth to mouth, and she brought her hand up to stroke along my jawline. “And why else are you here?”

“I’m to tell you what I think about doing extra work for you. And taking extra… discipline.”

“Yes. You are. And what have you decided?”

“Of course, sir! I’d be so grateful if you set me extra work. I want to do better. And I know that if I don’t do my work right…”

“Yes.”

“You will make sure I do my best. With your hand on my bottom. Or worse. That’s as it should be, sir, isn’t it?”

“You’re a good girl, Jennifer. And of course I won’t accept anything less than your very best. I certainly won’t accept any excuses.”

“Yes, sir. I wouldn’t expect you to. Or want you to. I need direction, I know that.”

Note

This episode of Jennifer’s pleats and pleas is slightly ahead of time. When I left the Jennifer-and-Maddie-and-Lucy saga, Maddie was about to tell her headmaster about the time a girl called Lucy had go the cane for the first time, and licked Mddie’s cunt while she took that dozen strokes. That episode is still to come, but I’ve jumped ahead a bit, to where the story returns to young Jennifer Perch, and her adventures in the present. 

She’s discovering pleasures she’d never dreamt of, in one sense, while in another sense she’s dreamt of them for most of her life.

Wicked Wednesday: The Long Wait 5

In her bed, when she’d lost count of her orgasms and her body burned, she found herself sitting up, her back to him, his cock pressed against her ass.

He spread her legs, and put his right hand on her cunt. He patted, and the pats became blows. She knew, in her conscious mind, that he was spanking her cunt quite hard.

But it didn’t hurt at all.

His voice sounded strained, urgent: “Say, thank you, sir!”

And, lost, when his hand next landed, fingers spread on her soft, wet self, Ellie wailed, “Thank you, Master!”

She felt him hardening. “I think you’re right.” He sounded surprised.

Later, her face in a pillow, her ass up, being ridden, she howled again, a ululation of pleasure and of something wrenching, shifting inside her.

When she was finished he rode her hard, seeking only his own pleasure. She felt his whole body spasm when he came in her. She’d pleased him. That mattered.

When his body had relaxed he kissed her ear and rolled to lie beside her, his arm over her body.

“You called me Master.” 

She felt a chill. He was going to be sensible now. Restore sense. “I did. I’m sorry, I know you didn’t ask me to. It just felt right.”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” Her heart sank. “But if you meant it, then I’m happy to be –”

Ellie wriggled back towards him, her skin against his. She thought about sucking him hard again, but he’d fallen asleep.

In the morning they’d talk. But he’d taken her, and when she’d given him more he’d taken that too. Maybe she had a Master, and… He’d made her wait half an hour. Half an hour and thirty-four years. She followed him into sleep.

[The end]

Wicked Wednesday: The long wait 4

“Not for trusting me. For disobeying me, and for being silly about safety calls. This is the last time I’ll repeat this order: come here.”

Come here, Ellie thought. Here. I’m going to come, with you, here on my couch, for the first time. She felt light-headed. “This is when you tell me to bend over?”

“Just lower yourself over my thighs. Use your fingers and toes to keep yourself steady. Make sure you’re comfortable. I’m going to spank you. But you’ll be ok. I’ll look after you.”

That made no sense. But Ellie put her hand on his shoulder and leaned forward. He helped her down. She wriggled, exploring her new position, amazed that she might become used to it. He pushed the robe to her shoulders. She felt the air on her body. “One more thing. When I give you an order, I want you to say, Yes, sir. Just before you obey me. Can you do that?”

“Uh.” Ellie felt his hand, stroking her bottom. Then the lightest warning pat. “Yes, sir,” she said quickly. 

“Feet apart.”

“Yes, sir.” Ellie shuffled, opening for him. His cock was hard, under her belly. He wanted her. Well, that made them even.

His hand landed. The impacts moved from left to right, lower and higher, in a steady, unchanging rhythm. Slowly the smacks got harder, and Ellie could feel the heat. She must be red by now. There was pain, then more. Why was this heaven? She began to rock herself on his lap, pressing against his cock.

He spanked her hard now, so that it hurt, really hurt. It was still heaven. She made a throaty noise. At last he stopped. She felt his fingers trailing down into the cooler skin between her buttocks, and slid her feet a little further apart. He said, “Beautiful girl. Good girl.”

His fingers entered her, reaching deep, then pressing downwards. Oh god. He stroked her, pressing his thumb against her cunt, his fingers fucking her. Reaching deep inside her.

“Oh,” Ellie said, then, much later, “Ohf!” The sweetness surged and took her. Her orgasm cry reminded her of a wolf under the moon.

She gasped, head up, savage, then let her head fall forward and down, while he stroked her. Ge was pleased with her, she knew.

He kept her on his lap, praising her, stroking her. Finally he let her go, and she sank onto her knees before him, looking up at his eyes.

He smiled down at her. 

“I seem to remember, when we were talking. On the phone. You mentioned amazing fellatio skills.”