Humiliation of an ex-Nazi submissive 69: Pillow talk

We’d finished our tea, and we were lazily getting dressed, saying unimportant things to each other. We were chatting about music, I think. She liked Sting more than I did, is all I can remember of that. She put on a fresh pair of knickers and a new bra, with her old jeans and a t-shirt. 

I wore the same clothes as before, of course. If we were going to be doing more meeting, beating and fucking, I’d probably have to leave some underpants, shirts, a toothbrush and so on, in her room.

But not this cushion. She hadn't earned this one yet

But not this cushion. She hadn’t earned this one yet

We could smell moussaka down in the kitchen. It was good. We dressed quickly. I borrowed Raylene’s hairbrush.  

But when we were ready to leave the room, go downstairs and face the others, Raylene grabbed a cushion. I said, “Cushion?”

“Yes. The kitchen chairs are really hard. Wooden chairs, you remember.”

“So?”

“And my arse is kind of sensitive at the moment. Well, it’s sore, actually. You might be able to guess why.”

I whacked her arse one more time, through her jeans, to demonstrate that I remembered why. She was cheerful about that.

I said, “Raylene, you’ve got some new habits to learn. First, you don’t assume things like that. If you want to sit on a pillow after I’ve strapped you, you have to ask.” 

I left a pause, and Raylene looked at me from under her brows. “Can I take this cushion down and sit on it during dinner? Sir?” 

“No.” 

Her mouth dropped open. She was genuinely surprised. I didn’t need to explain, but I did. “I just strapped you. If I made your arse sensitive, then that’s how I want you. If it’s a bit uncomfortable sitting down, that’s how I want it to be. Do you understand?” 

Some girls will do anything to avoid sitting on a wooden seat

After a spanking some girls will do anything to avoid sitting on a wooden seat

Raylene turned away to put the cushion down. When she turned back to me she kept her eyes down. “Yes. Sorry, sir. That makes sense, actually.”

I kissed her forehead. “Anyway, I doubt if t’ll do more than tingle. You’ll get used to it. No matter how hard the chairs are.”

Raylene looked skeptical, but she nodded. “Yes, sir.”

I indicated the door then and Raylene walked through. She put her head back and her hands open, level with her shoulders, and her feet scuffed a bit on the corridor carpet. She was skipping. I caught up with her and put an arm round her waist. She smiled at me. Something sexy and exciting had started.

I said, “Oh, one other thing.”

“Sir?”

“Doesn’t matter that Bellie and Lynette are here. When you address me during dinner, you still call me sir.”

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