Monica lay facedown on the bed, legs spread, ass arched up so she could lube herself. She turned to watched me watching her, her finger glazed with lube, delving into her ass. “Do I look hot?”

“You look hot. Also obedient, which I like. And beautiful. So, yeah, you’re pretty much my ideal woman.”

She pulled her finger out and half turned, to coat it with more lube. “I feel hot. I mean turned on. But I was sure this looks pretty good, in your eyes.”

“Yup.”

“Pervert.”

“And proud of it.” I smacked her thigh. And put a condom on, because she really was enticing me.

“Good boy. Master! Re condom. Can I – ?” She rolled over and sat up, taking my cock in one hand and slathering the other with lube. I said nothing. She knew that lubing me was almost sex in itself, and that if she did it for long I’d need a new condom, and some down time.

She looked in my eyes. “I guess this is service. It feels good.” 

I kissed her, since her face was close. “This is sort of service. But real service comes from doing things for your Master that you wouldn’t usually get pleasure from. Like, how are you at ironing shirts?”

“I suck at it. Guess I can learn. I can imagine how it’d feel sexual if it’s slave service, and I knew that I’m pleasing my Master. But I’m pretty good at looking after boots!” 

“Then you get both, pipi. Uh, it’s time you got on your hands and knees now.” 

“It is.” Monica turned and got into a sort of catlike position, knees wide apart, back arched so her cunt and glazed asshole were pointed at me. I got up on my knees and shuffled forward till I had my hands on her hips and my cock just touching that tight muscle. So she knew I was there.

“Just say if it gets uncomfortable, or painful. I only like to hurt you in ways I can control.” 

Monica shook her head violently. “No! I want you to fuck me hard. I don’t care if it hurts. All the better if it does. Just fuck me. Er, please, Master.”

So I smacked the sides of her crimson, richly warm and red ass, and pushed forward,, until the head of my cock was firmly inside her. 

Monica groaned.

Monica lay over my lap, bottom up. I kissed two fingers and help them to her mouth, and she kissed them. Then I kissed the fingers again and pressed them against her left buttock, o she understood. My current state of mind was very pro-Monica.

Monica had turned her head to watch me while I spanked her. She smiled at me, then made a kiss shape with her lips. I smiled back, and then let my fingers trail down between her buttocks, and stroke the sweet wet fruit of her cunt. 

She closed her eyes then and sighed, and she started to rock on my lap, starting to work towards that orgasm that we’d agreed would be the only thing that stopped this spanking. Eventually I raised my hand, three fingers wet all the way to the soft tissue connecting the metacarpalphalangeal joints, which deserve a more familiar name, don’t they?

Anyway, I removed thoroughly wet fingers, and gave Monica her first over-the-knee spank. I made it hard, because my experience is that a submitting girl gets more pleasure from a hard spank, and that means, paradoxically, that it hurts less than a softer or more hesitant slap. Monica sucked in a breath and her bottom clenched. 

She wasn’t experienced enough yet to be doing that as deliberate disobedience, but I spanked the backs of her thighs, four hard smacks. Till then they’d been left relatively pale; now they bloomed in dark pink. I put my left hand on the small of her back to hold her down. “You stay relaxed while I spank you, girl. Clench your bottom again and I’ll give you ten with the wooden spoon.”

I don’t think she was pretending to look alarmed at that. “Yes, Master. Sorry.”

“Good girl. Now stay in position. Just relax and ride, Monica.” I spanked her right cheek this time, then settled down for a long series, left then right, while Monica sighed, and occasionally made sweet moan. After about twenty or thirty spanks – I wasn’t counting; the number was irrelevant – I pressed two fingers onto her hot and brightly crimson left cheek, so she understood she’d just been kissed again, at least symbolically, and then stroked her cunt.

Monica sighed, and moved in response to my hand. She wanted faster stroking, so she got it. After a couple of minutes her moans got higher and more flustered, and she said, “Oh.” She froze suddenly. 

It wasn’t an orgasm. It was a kind of plateau, a little stop on the way. I resumed her spanking, a little harder than before, because I don’t think she was capable of feeling it as pain. When I’d used my belt and the wooden spoon before, she’d writhed and struggled. But now she lay quietly as I smacked her over and over, breathing slow and soft, still rocking rhythmically on my lap, with my cock pressed hard against her flank. She would accept whatever I gave her. We were, in a complicated sense, fucking.

I resumed the spanking, faster now, and harder; she was working her way to that orgasm, sure enough. 

At last, when she was riding high, squeaking and muttering unintelligibly, I moved the hand I’d been holding her down with and reached under her to pinch her left nipple. Monica screamed, not because it hurt. Though I hoped it did. Then she screamed again, and her legs parted wide, and she flopped on my lap, grunting and squealing. She sounded wonderful. She was happy. And triumphant. I stopped her spanking and held her arse tight with both hands. “Good girl, good girl, good girl.” I said it over and over. 

At last she rolled over, and held my hard cock. She kissed it, but I pulled her up so I could look into her eyes and kiss her mouth. Only one woman had managed that before, at least with me, but I didn’t want to say to Monica that she wasn’t the first. So I said, “You’re amazing. Little horny girl. Can I keep you?”

“Do that again, then maybe. Actually, it’s not up to me any more. Master.”

“You’ll do.” 

“Good. So will you.” We could have stayed like that for hours, just cuddling and praising each other, but I had urgencies of my own, now. “Get the lube.”

She’d demanded a two-part ‘punishment’, with this spanking, then getting anally fucked again. “Oh yes.” 

“I want to watch you lube yourself, little one. So I can fuck you. While your arse is still nice and toasty. Now!” 

Monica hummed two rising notes, and rummaged in her bedside drawer.

.  

Monica had said I should punish her for lying to me – in fact I’d told her to tell me a lie – by doing something to her that she’d hate. 

I said, “You know, this may never end. Because I’m going to ask you what you really hate, and then I’ll know that you’re lying again, and so I’ll have to punish you again.”

“You applied to be my Master. Too late to back out now. Anyway, I don’t mind if it goes on forever. I don’t think you do. Yeow!” 

That last sound was because I squeezed her nearest nipple, the left one, and then twisted. “I was looking for the Off Switch.”

“That isn’t it, Master. It seems to be a bit of an On.”

“I’ll try to remember that. Anyway, what it that you’ll really hate?”

“Well, I think you should put me over your knee, and spank me just with your hand, because that feels more personal. So, better punishing. And I bet that if you spanked me till I came, that would be sooo humiliating! It’d just show me what a disgraceful slut I am.”

“You think you’d come, just from being spanked?”

“You can stroke me a little bit, iff you feel like it. But yes, I think, yes, I reckon I can.” 

“And that would punish you?”

“Oh, it’s a spanking! That’s a punishment! And that orgasm: so humiliating! I’d be so sorry!. And then … “

“‘But wait there’s more’? You’re going to say having your cunt licked is very punishing too?”

“No. Your cock in my little, not quite so virgin, arse. I admit I liked that the first time. But I’m sure I’ll hate the second time. We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

“Yes, you need whipping, is what you need. But…” I thought about it, keeping her in suspense. This was a gratuitous piece of topping from the bottom, but I’ve never really cared about that if it’s fun. If the sub goes too far, it’s easy to deal with. And this promised to be fun.

At last I nodded. “All right, little pipi. Get over my knee.” 

Monica knelt beside me, bobbed down to kiss my cock, then further to take me in her mouth, then launched herself forward so she was in place, her bottom the perfect target. 

She was already red, from over a hundred smacks, some from my belt and some from her wooden spoon.

I was about to make her a solid, blazing crimson. Yes, spanking her till she came, if she could, wasn’t exactly punishment, but it certainly made an interesting project. I put my hand on her delicious bottom, and squeezed.

So Monica had told me three stories: 

1 The first man to spank her had let her down, bursting into tears and demanding that she spanked him instead;

2 She did have a submissive relationship with a woman who used to ride her like a pony, but never took the crop to her; 

3 Actually she had a dominant relationship with that woman, who she used to spank with a hairbrush if her cunnilingual tongue action wasn’t enthusiastic enough.

I said, “The first story is true. Because of mathematics. Though it’s plausible anyway.” 

“What do you mean, ‘because of mathematics’?”

“”Only one of your two stories about a woman lover can be true, because they contradict each other. So if there have to be two true stories, and only one of Stories Two and Three can be true, then Story One has to be true. Regardless”

“Ah yes. Your stories didn’t contradict each other. I’ll have to remember that next time.” 

“And you’re not the first woman I’ve heard complaining about a guy claiming to be a dom and then wimping out when he’s got permission. And you gave him his spanking when he begged for it, even though it didn’t turn you on at all. I believe that because you’re nice, and that was nice of you.”

“Actually it was really hard.” 

“I bet he was.” 

Monica bit me. “Idiot. I meant it was hard for me to spank him, but you knew that. I really had to force myself to do it. It felt so unnatural. Only as a thing for me to do, I mean. Other girls can spank guys to their heart’s content. And their cunt’s.”

“They sure can. It was brave of you, too. Going so far out of your own comfort zone. It’s a hard thing to do, and brave when it pushes you into a complicated role that you really don’t know and don’t want. Don’t think I didn’t notice that, too.”

“The second story is true too. And it’s really hot. I can’t ride on your back. But … I could take you to a park, wearing only blinkers and a pony-tail butt plug.”

“Only, huh? In a park?”

“And hitch you up to a cart so you can pull me along. I’ll signal left or right turns with a whip. On your bum, which I’ll be watching very closely.”

She checked my cock for signs of returning life. They were there. “That’s really … perverted,” she said.

She rubbed my cock again, gently and slowly, and it started to fill and rise. I could tell that “perverted” did not mean “out of the question”. 

It’d never been a major fantasy of mine. And I wouldn’t do it in a park: a Master isn’t supposed to get his girl arrested.. But I had a friend who owned some land out past Lithgow. So maybe … 

I stroked her cunt lightly and she said, “Ump”, and turned on her side facing me, raising one thigh to give me better access.

I delved in wet girl, and said, “And the third story is a lie, and I fling the lie in your face.”

She had my cock in a circle made by her thumb and forefinger, and stroked it lightly. I was hard now. She said, “And why?”

“Because slavegirls who lie to their Masters should have their lies flung in their faces.” 

“I suppose so. But why is that story a lie?”

“You can barely bring yourself to spank a boy who begs you to. So I don’t see you domming anybody, male or female. The third story is the lie.” 

She cast her eyes down. It wasn’t especially good acting. “You win, Master.”

“Well, you won your round. So it’s a draw. We’re getting a feel for each other.” 

“But I still have to be punished for lying to you.” I kissed her, and put a third finger in her cunt. She closed her eyes and kissed. “I have a suggestion for how you punish me. Something I’ll really hate.”

She was grinning, her eyes sparkling. That “something I’ll really hate” was another lie. But I was curious to know what it was.