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There is no other implement to rival a slipper for an all encompassing feeling of swollen and tender arse.
You pause, “Had enough?”
I’m dry sobbing by now, “Um hum, Sir.”
“Was that an affirmative, Cherie?”
“Yes Sir, yes it was.”
And finally I receive the “Good girl.” I’ve been waiting for. I sigh in relief. But I’m being premature.
My house has lots of nooks and crannies, lots of corners for standing naughty girls in and you’ve promised I’ll be occupying most of them at least once this weekend.
You position me near a radiator so I don’t get cold, hands on head, just as you like, and begin to strip my upper body. Soon I’m just in my skirt with my knickers at half mast. I daren’t move, I can hear you pfaffing about with my remote controls and I yearn to turn round and show you how to get the TV channel you’re looking for, However, even I’m not that stupid.
Finally, “Come here, Cherie.” I go to you and you gesture silently that I’m to kneel in front of you, I still have my hands on my head. You look me straight in the eye, tilting your head slightly. “You may do what you want.” And you glance down at your groin, I can see your erection straining through the cloth.
My instinct is to taunt you and go and do the dishes, but time is too precious to waste. My hands are still on my head and I’m not sure if I have permission to remove them, so I nuzzle in as best I can and run my mouth up and down the length of your cock.
You ease back in your seat giving me better access, but still through the cloth.
You aren’t going to help me and you aren’t going to tell me if I can move my hands. I have to guess and I’m sure to get it wrong.
However you pretty quickly decide you need slightly more direct contact yourself. So you ease your zip down and release the ‘beast’ for me, whispering in my ear, “Hands on head, or behind your back, whichever is easier for you Poppet.”
I want to say “Thanks a fucking bunch, you’re so considerate.” But I keep my own counsel. I’m busy anyway.
You’ve made yourself quite comfortable and are allowing me to do the work. My hands are now clasped behind my back as that gives me more room to manoeuvre. I really don’t mind, it’s my turn. Given the nature of our relationship it has fallen to you to provide most of the input on the phone. I can provide the cheeky impetus but you need to follow through, devising and imposing the resultant punishment. I know I get loads out of it but despite your reassurance I worry about how much you get, so this is my treat, now I have you within arms (or mouths) reach.
When you’ve cum I’m a lot happier, you’re fed, watered and sexually satisfied and that pleases me very much. You demand that I come and sit beside you on the sofa. I curl up with your arm around me, we each hold a glass of champagne. I am completely content.
We chat and cuddle, you are quite forceful and manipulate me until I’m sitting on your knee, a position you know I find deeply embarrassing, but then that’s rather the point, isn’t it? You have both arms around me and I feel cared for and cherished but you can feel my still burning backside through your trousers and it appears to be turning you on again. It doesn’t take much to guide me face downwards. I lost my knickers a while back so I’m in just my skirt which you push out of the way. My buttocks seem to be radiating heat, and you rest both hands on them.
I take my opportunity, “Are you cold? Should I fetch you some gloves?”
That’s all the excuse you need (hah – as if you really needed one!). An extremely sharp smack reminds me of my vulnerability. It is quickly followed by several more.
You pause, “Now let me see cherie, do I require gloves?” I hear you rub your hands together.
“No, I don’t think I do, I seem to have found another way to warm them up!” You continue to spank me and I continue to regret my inability not to be cheeky. You know I adore being spanked but that is not the object of this exercise, apparently.
“This is going to be a difficult weekend cherie, if you continue in this vein, isn’t it?” You ask quite dispassionately.
I manage to gasp “Yes, Sir.” You are spanking very hard indeed.
“I haven’t come all this way to be mocked and defied, have I?”
“No, Sir.”
“That would be a waste of time, money and considerable effort on my part, wouldn’t it cherie?”
“Ah-ha, Sir.”
“So are you going to curb that tongue of yours, cherie?” This last is accompanied by you spreading my arse cheeks and smacking right over my anus.
“Yes, Sir, yes, yes, I am!”
“Definitely?” The spanking continues.
“Please Sir, yes, Sir.”
At last you stop and I breathe a deep sigh of relief. You pull me back to sit on your knee again and my buttocks smart even against the smooth cloth of your suit.
You are studying me in minute detail, you know I can’t bear this, I hate how I look and find it very difficult to have anyone look at me. But you have no patience with this and continue to scrutinise me. Eventually I gather the courage and look back at you. I smile very shyly and you respond by beginning to kiss me. I’m soon wriggling in your lap, I am incredibly turned on and when you test for the evidence you appear satisfied and not long after we are in bed for the night.
You’re asleep before me and I lie there in the crook of your arm contemplating just how bad I actually am.
We both have whole and complete lives outside of ‘this’ and it has taken us months to find a weekend that was mutually convenient for us both and we know it’s unlikely to be repeated. I have pushed for this weekend and it’s your own fault. I thought our experience in London was intense and then you went and told me I’d only experienced the ‘light’ version, you didn’t want to scare me off on a first meeting. Apparently there is the ‘full on’ rendition that I wasn’t exposed to. Now, you see, that intrigued me and I wanted that experience very much. I teased, I cajoled, I wheedled. You laughed, you scolded, you punished and then eventually you gave in. Now, either you were always going to give in, or I wore you down, or I made you an offer you couldn’t refuse. A whole weekend with your every whim catered to by a female who was completely compliant at the slightest inflection of your voice. I don’t know a man alive who could turn that down!
You roll over in your sleep and I turn with you, holding you tightly and placing my lips against your back. I fall asleep too.
