Stephanie rested over my knee, gazing into Maires’s eyes, as Maires knelt in front of her. They held eye contact, but Stephanie put her hands together to hold my right foot. She said, “Second quarter. Six more.” Then she wiggled on my lap, breaking her promise not to be a minx. “Do your worst.”

I could have added extra spanks for that, but the truth is that I was too pleased that Stephanie was having fun. So I rubbed her bottom gently. “I’ll do my best. Maires, in one of my spankings, are the second six lighter or harder than the first six?”

Maires looked up at me, amused. “I’m sure Stephanie’s already guessed, Master. But of course they’re harder.” Then she looked back into Stephanie’s eyes. “And so they should be. You know that.”

Stephanie said nothing, but bowed her head.

Her arse had already deepened in colour from pink to red, and my rubbing had confirmed that she was warm. Then my hand landed on her left cheek, definitely harder than I’d ever smacked her before.

She gasped, and her arse bobbed and writhed appealingly while she dealt with the impact. Clearly, she was starting to feel this.

I smacked her again, on te right, and then gave her four more quite hard spanks, so that there were cries to hear, and she needed to be held in place while her spanking reached its halfway point. I asked Maires, “Is she crying?”

“No, Master. Not … quite. But she will be by the second dozen. Won’t you, Steph?”

“Er, I wouldn’t be surprised, Ma’am.”

“Oh, Steph, I’m not anybody’s Ma’am. Well, maybe a submissive boi sometimes, but never a woman. I’m a slavegirl here, same as you.” 

It was the fiirst time Stephanie had been called a slave. Oddly, she didn’t seem to notice. I rubbed her arse again, appreciating the firm, red heat of her, and reached down to stroke her cunt.

She stiffened, raising her head and feet, when my fingers entered her.

I stroked her, inside and out, until her hips were rising and falling again and her breathing was slow and loud. I said, “So how are you doing, after your first dozen, little one?”

“”‘Little?'”

“Oh, it’s a thing Doms often call submissives. And slavegirls. It’s very, very affectionate. Well, loving, actually.”

“Oh. It sounds odd. Though I suppose I am quite little. Anyway, I expect I’ll come to like it. Sorry, what was the question? Mas – Sir?”

“How are you feeling now?”

She only gurgled. I was distracting her. I took my fingers out of her and rubbed her heated bottom again. Then she sighed comfortably. “It’s hot. It should hurt, but it doesn’t feel like hurt. Completely different. I feel – I feel very close to you. Emotionally. And I really want your cock tight now. You’re going to make me wait, aren’t you?” 

I said nothing, but smacked her lightly, then returned to kneading her arse. She sighed. “There’s something hot about the fact that it’s not up to me. And if I made any demands, while I’m over your knee, you’d find it pretty easy to punish me.”

“Do you like that thought?” 

“Yes. I really do. This is so not my usual world. But it’s nice here. Sexy. And safe, weirdly enough.”

“You nearly called me Master, like Maires does. I’m not your Master.”

She hummed a piece of music that I knew I knew, but couldn’t place it at the time. It was, “Annie, I’m not your Daddy.” Kid Creole. That sort of indicates roughly when this was happening..

In the meantime I ignored it. “We have to discuss that and make some agreements first. Would you like to talk about what belonging to me would involve?” 

There was a long silence while Stephanie stared into Maires’s eyes. Eventually Maires nodded at her. She said, “Yes. Yes, I would like to have that discussion, Sir.”

“Good girl.” Stephanie wiggled once, and her feet returned to the carpet. She liked being a good girl. “Stephanie, you know I’m not going to be spanking Maires with my hand, when she gets the second half of her punishment. What’s she going to get?”

“Your belt, Sir?”

“Yes. Now, Stephanie, love, you’ve done nothing to deserve the belt.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“But would you like me to use it on you anyway? For your second half? Before we talk about what being a slavegirl means?”

Stephanie raised her head again. She looked back at me, astonished.

Stephanie and I had just fucked fairly vigorously on the carpet. I’d picked Stephanie up, carrying her in my arms, to my bed. But Maires, my girlfriend, had just had sex, or something of the kind, with a man with half his face painted red and a wooden toucan on his shoulder. Who, I’m afraid, doesn’t appear again in this story, although he did seem to be fascinating to women. Maires had come into our room and congratulated us, which in practice meant mainly Stephanie, on the beauty of our orgasm noises. 

Stephanie remembered that she’d agreed with me that Maires could join us when she, Maires, was ready. But now she was embarrassed. So Maires had asked her personally for her permission to join us. 

Stephanie looked up at me. I smiled at her, then had to clear my throat. “You don’t have to agree to anything you don’t want. I mentioned that it gets incredibly cuddly, if you have both me and Maires here. But all the options are good, whatever you decide.” 

Stephanie’s “ernnnn” was a growl. Maires looked disappointed, and was ready to leave, but I recognised it: it was the sound my mom made, when she was about to agree to something but wanted me to know it was a big concession on her part. So I lifted her a little and kissed her. 

Stephanie laughed, with the absurdity and promise of the moment, and Maires finally relaxed.

“All right,” Stephanie said. “You two fucking weirdos. Do your worst.”

I lowered Stephanie to the bed. She put her hands over her breasts and clamped her legs together. I figured she was joking. I said, “I promise it’ll be a good worst. Maires, I think you’re overdressed.” 

Stephanie slowly spread her legs, which had a hypnotic effect on me. Then she raised her knees, still spread, and pointed her toes at the ceiling. Maires said, “Holy fuck. Fuck, Stephanie. That’s fucking…”

Then she shut up, and pulled her shirt over her head, and dropped it on the floor, then dropped her jeans to join the shirt. 

I joined Stephanie, with my cock poking at her hip, and smacked her bottom. She dropped her legs to the bed and looked at me, trying to be indignant. I kissed her left, nearer knee, which was red and rough and painfully abraded by our carpet fuck. “These need treatment. Maires, go and get anti-septic cream.” 

Maires hesitated. She was supposed to do as she was told when we were together. But it was the first time I’d given her a direct order in front of someone else. On the other hand, I’d just smacked Stephanie’s bottom in front of her. So she decided there were the rules, and anyway they were likely to be fun. She said, “Sir, then.” And she left for the bathroom, naked as she was.

Stephanie grinned at me. “You’re a bad man. Someone should spank you.” 

I kissed her. “It just doesn’t work like that. Life is unfair. And do you think I’m going to spank you, even for suggesting that?” 

Stephanie rolled over, poked her arse up, and wiggled. “Go on, then.”

I felt the invitation, and the urge to act on it.

But instead I kissed her bottom, and then her thighs. Stephanie sighed, and spread her thighs wider. I said, “All in good time. Now roll over, girl. On your back, knees up.”

Maires arrived then with Savlon and gauze. She climbed on the bed too, on Stephanie’s right side, and kissed her knee. “Poor little limb. Injured in the cause of love.”

She took two pieces of gauze, squeezed out a dollop of Savlon onto each, and handed me one of the gauze pieces.

I dabbed at Stephanie’s left knee, while Maires cooed and did the same on her side. She leaned down and kissed Stephanie’s inner thigh. So I did the same.

“Obviously,” I said to Stephanie, “we intend to offer the total burns recovery care package.” It was an incredibly lame thing to say, but I hoped she wasn’t in a critical mood. Anyway, it did give her information.

Stephanie let her head sink back onto the pillow. She didn’t need to watch us any more. After we’d cleaned her knees, and soothed them as best we could, we gave our attention to Stephanie’s inner thighs, mouthing, tonguing and occasionally biting her flesh, working our way, very, very slowly closer to her cunt.

Stephanie made a sound that was half sigh and half grunt. She was enjoying our worst. Maires bit very lightly on the inner side of Stephanie’s thigh. Maires looked over at me. Her eyes were bright. “Meet you in the middle.”

Stephanie waited, naked, on my floor, her face, her outspread arms and her breasts touching the carpet, and her ass up and poised.

It’s just about the sexiest position a woman can assume. Nothing says, “I need to be fucked,” like lordosis. 

I bent down and touched her hair. I said, in my softest, gentlest voice, “Good girl.” Stephanie grunted. It was the thiurd time I’d told her, but now She was deeply in the state of mind in which “Good girl” is a comfort.

Then I pulled her hair, medium hard, to remind her who we were being to each other in that room, and while she sighed, taking that in, the knowledge that she was a girl who got her hair pulled, I lowered myself to the floor behind her, my knees between hers, my cock pressing urgently against her sweet and very wet cunt.

I didn’t move, though. Stephanie’s hips made little micro-movements of need, wanting me inside her. But she knew I didn’t want her to rock her ass back and take me.

It wasn’t that she knew I’d punish her if she did, though I certainly would. It was that she liked this game and she wanted to be good. And maybe be called ‘good girl’ again.

So we stayed like that, Stephanie waiting, presented for fucking, being tormented.

I was tormented too, of course, but it’s different when you know when it’s going to and. Or begin. 

I said, “Keep still. That’s a good girl.” It was so difficult not to take her immediately and hard. One hard push forward. But I let another minute pass, caressing the sides of her breasts, and moving my hands back to hold her, firmly, by her hips. Then at last I moved forward, letting the head of my cock touch slick, wet, needy cunt, and pressed a little further forward so her lips parted for half of the head of my cock. It was like being kissed in welcome. Stephanie made a sound that was close to a sob, then sucked in her breath. She knew she still didn’t have permission to move. 

I mentioned at the start of this story that I’d known Stephanie for years. I knew her family, too. Stephanie was a spoiled girl. She’d never really needed permission for anything while she was growing up. Waiting for permission now, being obedient, was a new experience for her. Clearly, she was finding it hot, in this context.

I said, “Stephanie.” 

“Yes. Jaime?” 

“You can rock back now, and take more of me. Just the head of my cock. If you go further… Well, my belt’s on the floor here. Understand?” 

There were a lot of things she could have said about that. But she took the belt threat without questioning it. She said, “Urrrrrnh.”

I hoped I wouldn’t have to use the belt. Not tonight; it wouldn’t fit the mood. But her acquiescence to the idea in principle made my cock just a little harder. I think she felt that.

She moved back, very carefully, impaling her soft centre on me. My glans covered in her, held tightly, I squeezed my fingers, hard, on her hips. We’d wanted each other for years. It was something to savour.

Then I raised my right hand and smacked her, just for the joy of it. I pushed further in, then back, half an inch back and one inch forward, each time.

Stephanie’s face was turned back to look at me, and her mouth was open. She’d dribbled on the carpet. We moved forward, then back.

Neither of us had any thoughts, any things to say.

I moved forward a little further, then back, and then forward again. Stephanie started to move now that most of my cock was in her, rocking on her knees, fucking me, pleasuring herself. 

At last my pubic bone and stomach pressed against her ass. We were fully joined. I said, “Stephanie, you are good. And sweet. And beautiful. And…” 

She moved and I shut up. Suddenly, we were fucking as fast and hard as we could. My knees rubbed on the carpet, painfully, and I didn’t care. She was going to lose skin too.