Wicked Wednesday: Obedience, discipline and lotion for Jennifer

A moment later, and Jennifer was again displayed, bent over my desk, naked, her hands held tight by Maddie, in the primal submissive position for discipline or sexual use.

I pressed my sipper against the fullest part of her bottom, and delivered the first stroke, lusty and hard, almost immediately. Jennifer took that one with a grunt, but no scream.

I said, “Now, Miss Perch, it’s time you learned that when I give you an order…”

The second stroke was delivered hard and fast, and delivered to her right cheek. Jennifer waggled her bottom frantically from left to right, the pain clinging to her. She made a high-pitched sound, not a scream, but a musical note.

“I do not–“

The third smack impacted hard and hot on her left side, and Jennifer screamed.

Maddie said, “Tears now, Master.”

“Want questions or complaints from you–”

On the fourth hard stroke, on her right buttock, Jennifer screamed again, her body rocking involuntarily in that ancient dance that punished girls performed for their disciplinarians.

Maddie had to concentrate and use all her force to hold the girl down and in position.

“I want obedience.” Her bottom was a moving target now. I caught her left buttock with the slipper as it rose; the impact sound filled the room. Jennifer wailed and shouted wordlessly. She had not stopped her vocal noises since the fourth stroke.

“You will learn to do as you are told.” The sixth stroke landed across the centre of her weaving and ducking bottom, again catching it on the rise. Jennifer’s song of pain barely changed.

She was already in a world of sensation that was partly but not entirely painful, and she’d stopped reacting much to individual spanks.

I could slipper Jennifer for another hour when she was like this, and though it would raise blisters on her bottom, which I did not want, she wouldn’t really notice. It’d make little difference to her mental state.

I said, “Lotion”, to Maddie, and she passed it. I spread it across Jennifer’s bottom, while she was still rocking up and down in a parody of sexual motion. I said, very quietly, “Good girl, Jennifer, you’re done now. You’ve been very good, and good girls do get looked after.”

She made an appreciative noise as my fingers slid and stroked her. Goosebumps rose on her bottom when I let my fingertips touch her pussy. It was, I thought, time to take Jennifer’s education one step further.

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