A Lesson

"What have you been doing all this time?" he demanded as he walked into the living room to find her sitting at the computer desk. "You were supposed to have washed the dishes while I was at the grocery store."

She made a face at him. "I didn't feel like it. I started and then I got bored, so I've been messing around on the computer instead."

"Yes, I see that." She felt a small shiver of worry at the look he gave her--she had promised to do the dishes while he was gone--but she pushed it down. She would do the dishes later. Or he could do them, if he was that worried about it! Without another word, he walked to the kitchen; she stuck her tongue out at his back and went back to her computer game.

Some time later, he had put away the groceries and washed all the dishes; she had spent the whole afternoon playing games on the computer, much to his disappointment. There was something that he had been wanting to try, and he decided that this would be the perfect opportunity. Leaving her alone with her computer game, he went into the bedroom and undressed. Then he took her hard wooden backed hairbrush and laid it on the nightstand, along with one of his leather belts. He piled up several pillows at the edge of the bed. Then he set a straight backed chair in the middle of the room and called for her to come into the bedroom.

"What?" she groused, even as she did as he said. "I'm busy right now. I'll do the dishes later, I promise!"

"No need," he replied. "I have something else for you to do, instead."

"Ooh, sex!" she said, taking in his naked body. She quickly yanked her shirt and bra off. Before she could pull off her pants, though, he stopped her.

"Maybe sex, later," he said, leading her to the chair. He sat down and, wrapping a hand around her wrist, pulled her in front of him. "First, though, I think you need a lesson."

"A lesson?" she scoffed. "On what?"

"On being responsible and keeping your promises," he replied, giving her a little glare. "Adults do as they say they will; children forget their responsibilities to have fun. Since you are acting like a child, I am going to treat you like one."

"And do what, punish me?" Disbelief oozed from her words.

"Exactly," he nodded. In that moment, the look in his eyes sent a sudden thrill of fear through her. She began to pull away from him, to reach for her shirt, but before she could, he had hauled her across his lap. She squirmed, but he had no trouble holding her in place, her hips resting across his right knee, her fingers and toes just touching the floor, her ass sticking straight up in the air.

"Hey!" she yelled, trying to wiggle off of his lap. "Let go of me!"

"No." He tightened his left arm around her waist, holding her in place, while with his right hand, he rubbed and caressed her ass, still covered by her jeans. "You are going to be punished for acting childish. And every time you act childish from now on, you will receive this same punishment."

"Are you going to spank me?" She could hear the worry in her voice, but could do nothing to banish it. She didn't want to be spanked! No one had ever spanked her in her entire life.

"Yes, I am. First, I am going to spank you over your jeans, to warm you up. Then I am going to spank you on your bare ass. Then I am going to use my belt on your bare ass, and then the hair brush. And you will not try to fight me, or you will earn extra strokes. And if you are a very good girl while you are being punished, I will fuck you when I'm done. Do you understand?"

She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell--she wasn't a child, no matter how she had been acting, and she refused to go along with this game!--but something kept the words from coming out. She liked it when he got all dominating with her, when he pushed her down on the bed and wouldn't let her up, when he tied her hands together and then made love to her. Maybe this spanking would be exciting. She was scared, but also curious, and so she swallowed her objections and, in the most compliant voice she could, said, "Yes, sir."

"Very good," he murmured, adjusting his grip a little more. "You can cry and scream all you like, but remember, don't try to move away from me."

She nodded, bracing herself for the first blow. His hand was warm on her ass, rubbing her through the thick material of her jeans. It felt good, soothing. She forced herself to relax. And then the warmth of his hand disappeared, a split second before she heard a monstrous crack. The sound made her jump. It was only seconds later, as pain, hot and red, began to spread through her backside, that she realized that he had actually done it. He had spanked her!

"Ow, that hurt!" she pouted, reaching back to rub at her ass.

"It's supposed to," he growled, grabbing her wrist and holding it against the small of her back. "Move like that again and you'll get extras."

And then, without warning, another blow fell on her soft flesh. This one was on the other cheek. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. She might not be able to fight, but she would be damned if she let him see how this hurt!

Only, as the blows continued to fall steadily, alternating cheeks, she could not help herself. He spanked her entire ass, from hips to thighs, and each blow stung and sent red pain through her flesh. By the time his hand dropped for the last time, her eyes were wet with tears.

"Are we done yet?" she sniffled.

"With this part. I'll let you rest a minute. But there is still the naked spanking, the belt, and the hair brush to come," he reminded her, rubbing his hand over her abused ass.

She lay there, blinking back tears. She desperately wanted to tell him not to spank her anymore--her ass felt as if it was on fire, and he hadn't even taken her pants off; she couldn't imagine what it would feel like naked!--but at the same time, the deep hot pain radiating through her ass seemed to have found its way to her pussy. She felt hot and wet and really wanted him to fuck her. But he had said he would only fuck her if she behaved. So she resolved to take the rest of her punishment like a big girl.

"Stand up." She did as he said. He turned her towards him and unbuttoned her jeans, letting them fall to her knees. Then he yanked her panties down, leaving her totally exposed to his gaze. "What have we here?" he asked after a moment of staring at her. Hard fingers pressed her thighs apart and he easily slid a finger into her wet pussy. "Enjoying this, are you?" he asked in a silky voice.

She could feel her face turning red, and she couldn't answer his question. It was too embarrassing. He gave a low laugh. "Well, even if you won't admit it, your pussy isn't lying to me. I think you are enjoying this. Do you know who enjoys being spanked?"

"No, sir." She shook her head.

"Little sluts, that's who. Are you my little slut?" he asked, pushing a second finger inside of her. She rocked forward against his hand, trying to pull his fingers deeper inside, shocking herself. But it felt so good. "Oh yes, I do believe you are going to be my slut," he said, rubbing at her clit with his thumb. She closed her eyes at the sensations that filled her. It felt so good, but so shaming at the same time.

He continued pushing his fingers into her for a bit, rubbing at her clit and pinching her nipples while he did so. Then, when her breath had began to come in gasps, he stopped touching her. She opened her eyes.

"Back over my knee," he ordered, gesturing. Biting her lip, she did as he said. Her jeans, still hanging around her knees, made moving her legs hard, but perhaps that was intentional on his part.

With his help, she was soon positioned across his lap once more, her ass sticking straight up in the air. He pushed her thighs slightly apart, and she could feel his fingers pressing against the wetness of her pussy again. Shamelessly, she thrust backwards against his hand...only to be met by a hard smack across her bare ass.

This blow stung far worse than the others had, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Without waiting for her to catch her breath, he struck her again, the sting biting deep into her already bruised flesh. Again and again his hand fell on her bare ass, covering it with bruises, she was sure. Her entire bottom felt hot and red and huge. By the time he removed his arm from around her waist, she was sobbing.

"Please, that's enough, I promise I'll be good from now on," she gasped as she stood, rubbing at her sore behind.

He shook his head. "I'm glad to know that you will behave, but your punishment is not over. Now," he said, standing, "take your pants and panties off and I want you to fetch a pillow from the bed."

Still sniffling, she did as she was told. He took the pillow and laid it over the back of the chair, then instructed her to lean over it. "Hands on the seat of the chair, legs spread," he told her, swatting her behind. Even that light touch hurt. Leaning forward over the pillow, she did as she was told.

"I am going to start with the hairbrush," he said, picking it up. It was stout wood, with sharp-looking bristles. "Twenty-five strokes of the brush and then another twenty-five from my belt. You will count them out for me. If you miss counting any, or if you squirm, there will be extras. Do you understand."

"Yes, sir," she gulped. His hand had been bad enough; how much worse would the hairbrush be? Or his belt? She did not even want to contemplate it. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to pretend that none of this was happening.

"Pick that ass up," he told her, pinching her bruised bottom. "And no clenching. Ready?"

"Yes, sir," she managed to moan. Already, she could feel new tears forming.

The brush cracked against her ass with a sound like a gunshot; immediately, hot pain flooded her ass, rushing through her like wildfire. She gasped from it, her body rocking forward inadvertently. "Oww," she gasped, reaching around to rub at her bottom.

For several seconds, he was silent, as if waiting for something. After a bit, he said, "You have just earned yourself four extra punishment strokes. You did not count the stroke, and you rubbed at your bottom. Let's start again, shall we."

She bit her lip, pain and anger suffusing her body. How stupid could she be? And yet, despite the pain and humiliation that she felt, her cunt still felt very wet, and she was still desperate for him to fuck her.

He began spanking her again. This time, she remembered to count the blows, though she could sometimes barely get the words out for crying, and she kept her hands firmly on the seat, clenching them together to keep from rubbing at her burning ass. He had been going fairly slow, letting her catch her breath between each blow, but for the last ten, he pressed his free hand against her back, holding her in place, and he walloped her ass as hard and as fast as he could. She thrashed and kicked, but he ignored her struggles, not stopping until he had done the full twenty-five blows.

She hung over the chairback, sobbing wildly, wishing for nothing so much as some ice to sit in. Murmuring soothingly, he lifted her up, gathered her in his arms, and rubbed her hair. "It's alright, my love, you did very well there and we're almost done. Just twenty-five more blows, plus your extras, and then we'll be finished. You can take twenty-five more, right?"

She shook her head, sniffling. "No, I can't. Please, can't we stop now?" She looked at him beseechingly.

"I'm sorry, love, but no, we can't," he said, looking remorseful but determined. "You need to understand how wrong your behavior is, so I want to make sure this lesson sticks with you." Moving slowly, he guided her onto the bed. He had her lie on her stomach with two pillows beneath her hips. "Now, you have to lay still or I will have to tie you down and give you extras. Spread your legs for me," he added, tapping her thighs. Struggling not to cry, she did as he said.

"You needn't count this time," he said from behind her. "Just lay still and take it like a big girl and then it will all be over." She couldn't even nod, she was so frightened.

The belt, when it bit into her flesh, hurt like nothing she had ever imagined. It burned much more than the brush had, much more than his hand. And instead of hitting her across her ass, he had aimed for her thigh. Then another blow landed on the other thigh, swirling around into the unmarked area of her inner thighs, near her pussy. She let out a shriek at that, but he only laughed and hit her again, higher up this time, across the rounded part of her ass.

Another blow, and another. She was crying, begging for him to stop, promising never to misbehave again, and yet he continued to spank her until all twenty-five blows had been delivered. From hips to mid-thigh, her entire backside was nothing but a mass of hot, burning pain.

"Roll over." His voice held no room for dissent. Sobbing, she did as he said, gasping at the pressure of her ass against the bedclothes. "Spread your legs."

She was trembling now. What did he mean to do to her?

"You've earned ten extra spanks," he said, his eyes dark as he stared down at her exposed body. "You may choose if you want them with the brush or the belt, but they will be across your inner thighs. What do you want?"

She gasped. Both the belt and the brush had been pure torture. Finally, trembling, she managed to get out, "The belt."

He nodded. "Very well. Do not move, or I will continue to add more extras. And open your legs wide."

She lifted her hands above her head, grabbing at the blankets to keep from moving, and spread her legs as wide as she could. Then she closed her eyes, so she wouldn't have to watch him.

The first blow struck her inner thigh like fire. She gasped, all the air sucked from her lungs by the pain. Before the pain could began to fade, he had struck her again, on the other leg. Then again, and again. Each blow left a ribbon of fire in its wake, and her whole body was burning from the pain.

By the time the belt fell for the last time, she was sobbing aloud, "Please, please, stop! Stop!" When he finally did stop, it was like a miracle, like she had never expected the pain to end.

"There," he gave her a small smile. "All done." He dropped the belt and knelt between her open legs. Without warning, his fingers pressed warmly against her vulva, and he made an amused sound. "Yes, you are definitely a little slut," he chuckled, showing her his damp fingers. "I think we will have to try these spankings more often."

"What?" she gasped, but he ignored her, pulling her up and pressing her back onto the bed on her stomach. The pillows under her hips pressed her ass up into the air.

He spread her legs wide, and the next thing she knew, his cock was deep inside of her. And then, despite--or perhaps because of--the pain that filled her, she found herself consumed by lust. He thrust into her slowly, but she was not interested in gentle; she thrust her ass back against him as hard as she could, reveling in the way the movement shot pain through her body. Groaning, he leaned forward, gathering her breasts in his hands, and pushed himself deeper inside of her. He pinched her nipples, rolling them in rough fingers; she simply moaned and thrust against him again.

The heat in her ass combined with the heat of him inside of her to push her into an intense orgasm. Moments later, he followed, groaning against her back as he collapsed against her back.

"Yes, we will definitely have to spank you again," he murmured into her hair. To her amazement, she found herself agreeing.

Charlotte's Wonderful Day

Charlotte stood frozen at her front door, keys half-raised to the lock, staring at the small slip of paper tucked into crack between the door and the jamb. The official city seal, and the words “ordinance” and “proper maintenance of property” jumped out at her. Cringing, she glanced over her shoulder, at the foot-tall weeds that poked through the rocks of her front yard. So she had gotten behind on her yard work…who cared? But obviously somebody did, enough to call the city and report her. Stupid busybody neighbors.

“Fuck,” she muttered, dropping her key to the lock and letting herself in. As she pushed the door open with her hip, trying not to drop the carefully balanced bags in her arms, the notice from the city fell, landing gently on the patio. Frowning at it, she slammed the door shut with her foot, leaving the small slip of paper outside.

Throwing the deadbolt, she turned and stomped into the house. As she crossed the living room to the kitchen, to put away the bags of groceries, her foot caught on something—I should have put those shoes away! her mind shrieked at her, helplessly—and she tripped. Without thinking, she dropped the groceries, intent only on saving her face from an impact with the hard tile floor—and the bags fell, hitting the floor with a sickening crunch. Something red began to leak onto the pale tile.

“Fuck!” she yelled at the ceiling, banging her fists onto the floor in her frustration. The sting of that blow quickly spread through her hands, causing tears to fill her eyes. This is too stupid, I am not going to cry, she told herself. I am not going to cry! But by the time she had fumbled her cell phone out of her pocket, the tears were already coursing down her face, so badly that she could barely see what she was doing as she punched out the text message: Come over now, I need you!!!

By the time Dave let himself in, half an hour later, Charlotte’s tears had stopped, though they still gleamed wetly on her cheeks. She was still sitting on the floor, head flung back against the wall; the ends of her long hair brushed the tile beneath her.

“Hey, Char, what’s up?” Dave asked, crossing the room and kneeling at her side. As he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, drawing her close to him, Charlotte pressed her face against his chest, inhaling the scent of him through his shirt; her voice, when she answered, was muffled even to her own ears.

“I’ve just had the worst day ever,” she mumbled, trying to stop the tears from coming again. It was stupid to cry about this, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. It had just been such a terrible day! The story came spilling from her lips. “First my alarm didn’t go off, so I woke up late, and I couldn’t find a parking spot at work, which made me later, and then my bottle of lotion opened in my purse and got all over everything—now even my credit cards are rose scented!—and I dropped a whole pile of files at work, and all the papers got mixed up, and—“

Dave cut her off. “I think I get the picture,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “And that” he gestured at the dropped grocery bags “was the last straw?”

Charlotte nodded, sniffling.

“Well, I have an idea,” he said, standing and pulling her to her feet as well. “I’ll clean up in here. You go get comfy, take a quick shower, whatever, to calm down. And when you’re done, I’ll give you a massage. Sound good?”

Charlotte nodded again, a small grin breaking out on her face. She loved a good massage, as Dave well knew. Brushing a quick kiss across his cheek, she disappeared into the back of the house.

Once alone, Dave glanced at the mess on the floor, shaking his head. Charlotte was great, he loved her, but sometimes she got just a little…overwrought. She really needed to calm down. If she really wants something to cry about, I should give it to her.

Suddenly an idea surged through him. Something to cry about…He had been thinking about this for months, but he had never brought it up with her, thinking for sure that she would think he was some kind of pervert. But now, in her current state…it might just be the perfect time.
He flew through the clean up, and then poked his head into the steamy bathroom. Charlotte’s perfect figure was only slightly obscured by the misty shower curtain. “Honey, I’m gonna run out for a bit,” he called over the noise of the shower. When she protested, he explained, “I just want to get some nice massage oil for you, and maybe a pint of ice cream.” He grinned when she agreed enthusiastically. Then he was out the door and into his car in a flash, speeding for the store.

By the time Dave returned, Charlotte had finished her shower. She was laying on the futon in the living room, wrapped in a thin robe and watching TV when he strode in the door, a brown paper bag in his hands. “Is that my ice cream?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“And some other surprises,” he replied with a wink. “Pull out the futon and lay down and I’ll be
right back.” He walked into the kitchen. “And take off the robe!” he tossed over his shoulder.

Smiling with anticipation, Charlotte did as she was told, stretching out on her stomach. A massage, followed by ice cream…maybe this wasn’t going to be such a bad day after all. She closed her eyes and waited.

A few minutes later he reentered the living room, accompanied by the sound of rustling cloth as he disrobed. The futon creaked as he climbed onto it, moving until he was sitting astride her, the soft scratchiness of his legs tickling at her hips and thighs.

“Just keep your eyes closed and relax,” he murmured as he pushed her hair over her shoulder. There was a small click as he opened a bottle, and then he was rubbing his warm, oil-slick hands over her back.

The massage lasted what seemed hours. Charlotte fell into a half-doze, where the only really things in the world were the feel of Dave’s hands on her skin and the weight of him pressing down against her ass and thighs. She felt him shift again, and then he whispered, “Put your hands up over your head.” Intoxicated with the pleasure coursing through her body, she did so. He leaned forward, running his hands over her arms, working the muscles of her forearms.

His voice broke the spell of silence that surrounded her. “Do you trust me?” he murmured against her neck, his breath tickling the fine hairs there.

“What are you talking about?” she answered, voice muffled by the futon.

“Just answer the question. I know a way to make you feel much better, but you have to trust me.” He leaned forward so that she could catch a glimpse of his face from the corner of her eye. A mix of emotions played over his face, anticipation and longing and something akin to fear.

“I suppose,” she said slowly, still trying to measure the look on his face. At her reply, his expression brightened, through the anticipation did not disappear.

“Wonderful,” he breathed against her ear. “Just relax, and I promise everything will be fine.”

“Okay,” she replied, unsure of what he intended to do.

But nothing strange happened; he just went back to massaging her again, his strong fingers working at the muscles of her arms. With a mental shrug, Charlotte closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall back into the half-doze that she always occupied during an especially good massage. There was nothing in the world except for the feel of his fingers kneading her muscles, working up and down her arms, grasping her forearms…

A new sensation, then, of something squeezing her wrists, something besides a human hand. She opened her eyes, lifted her head the little bit she could with her arms stretched out before her, to find her wrists encased in black cloth.

“What the hell is this?” she demanded, trying to sit up. But the cloth around her wrists—the restraints, she belated realized—was looped around the futon frame, holding her down. Aside from that, Dave still sat on her ass. She twisted to glare at him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Shh,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “You said you trust me, remember? Just lay still.”

A shot of adrenaline ran through her, as she realized that she could not get away from him. She was tied, and with his superior weight holding her down, she was truly trapped. “What are you going to do?” she demanded through clenched teeth, trepidation heavy in her voice.

“Just this,” he said, staring straight into her eyes. And he spanked her.

At first all she was aware of was the sound, a harsh crack that seemed to echo in the room long after the sound itself had died away. Then, in the heavy silence that followed, she felt heat, great waves of it, starting in her ass and spreading through her whole body. As the unwelcome heat tingled through her face and fingertips, she felt tears—of shock and shame—pricking at her eyes.

“What are you doing?” she whispered harshly, her voice muffled by the futon.

“Teaching you a lesson,” he replied, the strange tightness still in his voice. “You need to learn to calm down.” And he smacked her again. And again.

She fought. She kicked and wriggled and thrashed, but it was no good. With her arms tied and him on top of her, she was not going anywhere until he wanted her to. And apparently he did not want her to go anywhere until her ass felt as if it had been roasted.

Each blow landed in a different spot, spreading the warm glow of pain through her ass and thighs. He would bring his hand down on one asscheck, and then on the opposite thigh, and then on the crease just above. Several blows landed on her inner thighs; those stung the worst, sending hot jolts of pain up her legs into her body. He even—and this was as humiliating as it was painful—pushed apart her asschecks to deliver several sharp, stinging blows there. By the time his hand fell for the last time, leaving one more handprint on her burning flesh, tears were streaming down her face. She was sure she would never be able to sit again.

“Are you done?” she whispered thickly, voice clogged with tears.

His chest hair tickled her back as he leaned closer. “Not even close, love,” he murmured in her ears. “But you are doing wonderfully, and I promise that it’s not all going to be terrible.”

“How is this not terrible?” she demanded, trying to find the energy for anger. But it seemed as if all her anger had been used up in fighting him. A heavy lethargy lay on her like a blanket, seeming to weigh down her mind. The only part of her that felt truly awake was her ass, which still quivered with pain.

“Is this terrible?” he murmured, stroking her inner thigh gently, before slowly moving his touch upward.

“No,” she was forced to admit, squirming ever so slightly as he touched her sensitive flesh.

“Or this?” His finger pushed into her, just enough to tantalize. Despite herself, despite the pain and humiliation he had caused her, she found herself pushing back against him, trying to get more of him inside of her. He laughed. “I guess not.”

Despite her body’s urge to keep pushing against his hand, she pulled away as best she could, trying to become cold. “Get off of me,” she demanded, trying to sound exasperated, knowing that it came out more like a plea. “You’ve had your fun, now leave me alone.”

“Not quite yet,” he said softly, running his fingernails over her reddened flesh. His touch sent shivers—of pain, and of something she belated recognized as desire—through her, making her body clench.

While she was still panting from the unexpected flare that his touch caused, she heard a rustling off the side of the futon, as if he were digging in a bag. Soon, something smooth and cool was laid against her burning flesh. It sat there for a long moment, while she tried to figure out what it was.

When he lifted it and began to run it over her skin, thin bristles raking at her bruised and aching flesh, she realized that it was a hairbrush. And he intended to spank her with it. Tears sprang to her eyes, but, for some reason she could not fathom, she bit her lip to keep her protest inside.
The bristles scraped her sore ass as he lightly dragged the brush up and down, exciting already over-stimulated nerves to the breaking point. With each pass, he pushed the brush down a little harder, until she felt as if the bristles were stabbing her, as if the welts that covered her ass were being inflicted all over again. Finally, it became too much for her; she let out a whimper.

It was as if that was what he had been waiting for. Before the sound had fully left her lips, he had lifted the brush and brought it down with a crack on her ass. A yelp escaped her as the tears began to roll down her cheeks once more.

The sound seemed to excite him. He spanked her again and again, each time harder than the last, the smooth wooden back of the brush leaving an oval of burning heat on her ass. She hissed with the pain. It was so different from the blows of his hand, more painful, more solid-seeming. His hand had at least had some mercy. The length of stout wood had none.

Before she could start sobbing at the pain that filled her, he withdrew the brush from her body. Rough fingers pushed her legs apart, and then she felt something hard and smooth—the handle of the brush, she thought—pushing against her. To her utter surprise, she was very wet, and the handle slipped inside of her easily. A new ache—one that had nothing to do with pain—joined the old one.

“I think someone likes pain,” he whispered against her hair as he worked the brush in and out of her slowly. She responded with a moan, thrusting back against the rigid invader. And then, in an instant, it was gone, pulled from her body. She didn’t have time to be disappointed before he smacked her again, swift and painful, right where her thighs joined her ass, right over her aching wetness.

The heat of the blow spread through her lower body to join with the tingling between her legs. To her surprise, she found herself lifting her hips, pushing her ass towards him, as if waiting for the next blow to fall. In the moment of silence, she heard him give a small grunt of pleased surprise; then his hand fell across her thigh again, sending another wave of stinging heat through her. Shamelessly, she lifted her hips to meet his hand.

The spanking continued, hard stinging blows that brought tears to her eyes, and yet she did not shy away from them; instead, she rose to meet them, welcoming the biting warmth that filled her. While he spanked her with one hand, the other slipped between her thighs to touch and tease her. Gently, at first, and then more forcefully, he rubbed his fingers against her clit, occasionally allowing them to slip inside just long enough to tantalize. Eagerly, she rocked against his hand, slowly and then with a mounting urgency. And still the spanking continued.

She came with a shudder, moaning and gasping her pleasure into the cushion beneath her. Though she was obviously spent, he did not stop touching her, though he did stop the spanking; instead, his efforts seemed to intensify, as if he were determined to bring her to climax again. Vaguely, through the haze of orgasm, she could feel his hands fumbling at her bound wrists. And then she was free.

He did not allow her time to consider this. Grabbing her about the waist, he rolled and tumbled them both until he lay on his back on the futon and she straddled him. He lifted her hips, plunging himself into her still-quivering wetness. A jolt of pleasure shot through her, reigniting the fire that had so recently been quenched. She began to rock her hips against him.

With a low growl of pleasure, he put his hands on her hips to guide her, squeezing the sore, reddened skin of her ass between his strong fingers. Pain flared through her again, especially when he began to rake his nails over her flesh once more. But with the pain came more intense pleasure, waves of it, not just between her legs like normal, but spreading through her whole body.

When he spanked her again, she cried out with the sheer intensity of it, of the wonderful pain washing over her. Clutching his shoulders with desperate hands, with her legs glued to his sides, she fucked him as hard as she had ever fucked anyone in her life. Within moments, she came again, the powerful orgasm shuddering through her body while he pinched and slapped her. Moments later, he joined her in climax, grunting as he came beneath her.

There was little to say after that. Charlotte rolled off of Dave, to curl up next to him, her head pillowed on his chest. He draped one arm around her, rubbing her shoulder with a gentle hand. Now that she knew the harsh strength that that gentleness masked, she shivered at his touch.

“So was that truly terrible?” he asked quietly, mouth against her hair.

She considered. True, her ass felt huge and red and she probably would not be able to sit for days. Still, the mix of pleasure and pain that had washed through her body had been intoxicating, sensual. “Not terrible at all,” she murmured against his chest, raising her face towards his for a kiss. “In fact,” she said against his lips, a slight smile on her face, “this has been a wonderful day.”

Punished

She lay in bed, trembling with repressed need. She had been craving sex for days, but he had been busy, too busy to do more than give her a quick kiss. A few nights ago, they had had a short quickie, but it hadn't been enough. She wanted—she needed—a good, long, fucking. And once again, he was asleep at her side.

She stared up at the dark ceiling, feeling the desire tightening inside of her, driving her to distraction. It would be easy enough to take care of it herself...but she wasn't supposed to do that without his explicit permission. Not that she thought that bringing herself to orgasm would totally alleviate the need inside of her, either—she wanted his mouth on her breasts, his hands on her ass, his cock deep inside of her. But she was going crazy; she had to do something.

Moving slowly, she brought her hands up to her naked breasts, began gently stroking them. Her nipples tightened under her fingers, sending new sparks through her. She pinched them, hard, hard enough to hurt, and had to stifle the gasp that threatened to escape her lips. If he woke up, she was going to be in so much trouble...She shook the thought off.

Still caressing her breasts with one hand, she slid the other hand down her belly, feeling it tense as her fingers tickled the sensitive skin. When her hand found her panties, she slid it under the thin material, feeling horribly guilty. She wasn't supposed to be doing this. But she needed it so badly.

Her fingers, cold against her overheated flesh, found the center of her desire, and she couldn't stifle the gasp. Moving faster now, still pinching her nipples with the other hand, she began to move her fingers against her clit in a rhythm that soon had her groaning, heedless of the noise she was making. It felt so good. She was so close...

A large hand closed around her wrist at the same time as his deep voice said, “What are you doing?”

Her eyes shot open, a flash of fear racing through her. The orgasm that had been about to claim her died a quick death as she felt his eyes on her. “Um.” She licked her lips, trying and failing to think of an excuse for disobeying his orders. “I've just wanted you so much,” she finally whispered, surreptitiously trying to pull her hand from his. “I just couldn't help it.”

“I have specifically told you before that you are not to pleasure yourself without my permission, have I not?” he asked, his voice deceptively quiet.

“Yes.” Though she knew he couldn't see it, she could feel the blush staining her cheeks.

“What happens when you disobey me?”

“You punish me.” The words brought both fear and desire roaring into her. Punishment. It would mean a spanking, for sure. They hurt so much...but still, something deep inside of her loved it when he got all dominant with her.

“Yes, I punish you. As I will have to do now.” He pulled her hand from her panties and released it, leaning over to turn on the bedside light. “Stand up, please.”

Shivering slightly, from both fear and anticipation, she stood. She was naked but for her panties, which, already being soaked with her own moisture, did not provide much in the way of concealment. Still, she tried; she crossed her arms over her breasts, crossed one knee over the other, trying to hide from his demanding gaze.

He shook his head at her. “Is that how you are supposed to behave?”

She hung her head. “No.” Slowly, feeling ashamed, she lowered her arms to her sides, uncrossed her legs.

“Better,” he said, slowly standing and stretching. Then he settled himself on the edge of the bed and gestured her across his lap.

Moving as slowly as she dared, she settled herself across his thighs, resting her fingers and toes on the floor for balance. He brushed the hair off her face and then slowly caressed her ass, his fingers warm on her skin.

“So, how many do you think you deserve?” he asked, still in that quiet conversational voice.

She swallowed hard. If she set a low number, he would probably double it, but if she set a high one, he would agree with her. Finally, she whispered, “20?”

He patted her ass softly. “No, I don't think 20 is enough. Not for masturbating. And you were about to come, weren't you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, ashamed of her weakness.

“No, I think a little slut that can't keep her hands off of herself deserves at least 50 strokes with the hand. And then maybe a few more with the paddle, just to be sure. Don't you?”

“Yes, sir,” she breathed, lowering her face to his thigh.

“Good.” He pinched her ass lightly, making her clench her cheeks together. He gave a quiet chuckle. “You know better than that. Don't clench, or squirm, or you'll get extras.”

She nodded, still shivering. Her body was tense, waiting for the moment that pain would blossom on her ass.

Without warning, his hand swung through the air and connected with her right ass check with a loud crack. She jumped slightly at the contact, trying her hardest not to move. Almost immediately, he smacked the other cheek. She bit her lip.

By the time he reached 20 spanks, tears were welling up in her eyes. By 40, they were pouring down her cheeks and she was biting her lip to keep from crying aloud. Each blow got a little bit harder, and they were perfectly directed, covering her entire ass and the tops of her thighs.

After the fortieth blow, he stopped for a moment, scratching his nails over the hot welts on her skin. Despite herself, she found herself arching her ass up to meet his hand, loving the painful friction. “Are you ready for these last ten, love? They are going to be the worst.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, striving not to clench her cheeks together. A thrill, part fear, part anticipation, shot through her, making her skin—especially the damp flesh between her legs—tingle.

Another pinch, and then he wrapped his left arm around her waist to hold her in place and really laid into her ass, the spanks coming hard and furious. She was sobbing aloud by the time he released her.

“Stand up,” he ordered, paying no attention to her tears. Wiping her eyes with her hands, she did as she was told, standing before him with her hands clasped behind her back.

He grabbed one of her breasts, pinched and twisted the nipple hard enough to make her gasp. Then he leaned forward and sucked it into his mouth, putting his teeth and tongue into tormenting it. She swayed forward against him, unable to stem the rush of desire that flooded her. He moved to her other nipple, while his hands grabbed her hips, hard fingers biting into her abused flesh. Then he slid one hand forward and dropped it to her labia. He met no resistance as he pushed two fingers inside of her, rubbing at her clit with his thumb.

“Yes, you definitely need more punishment,” he breathed against her breast, fucking her with his fingers. “Go bring me the paddle. And a scarf. And the small vibrator.”

Shuddering from frustrated desire, she crossed the room to the toy drawer, returning with the items he had requested. He quickly bound her hands together in front of her with the scarf. Then he made her kneel on the bed while he stacked pillows up in front of her. She leaned forward over them, her face resting on the comforter, her ass in the air, vulnerable. He spread her thighs, pressing his fingers into her again until she squirmed against him with the pleasure; knowing what she was feeling, he withdrew them.

Then he turned on the small vibrator and pushed it into her. She pushed back against it, wanting the release it promised, but knowing it was hopeless. The vibration inside of her was enough to drive her to a fevered frenzy of desire, but not enough to push her over the edge. She could have wept from the torment.

“Now, I think 20 more strokes with the paddle, eh love?”

She wanted to cry at the number, but inside she nodded, since refusal would only bring more punshiment. “Yes, I thought you might like that number,” he chuckled. He positioned himself so that he was standing between her feet.

The first crack of the paddle was like a bullet going off. It took a moment for the hot pain to register in her brain, but register it did. The stiff leather was much crueler than his hand had been, and his hand had already covered her with welts. She couldn't help the cry that escaped her.

The next blow of the paddle hit low, across the top of her thigh. Then another across the other thigh. Then he slid the paddle between her thighs and rubbed it against her aching clit for an aggrivating moment, before striking her again.

By the time he had struck her 20 times with the paddle, she was panting and crying once more. Heat suffused her abused ass, making it feel huge and red. And her desire was wound even tighter. The vibrator inside of her, combined with the pain that filled her ass, was driving her mad. If she did not get to orgasm soon...

A horrible though entered her head. What if he did not intend to let her come? He could tie her spread eagle to the bed, unable to touch herself, and then leave her there all night. That would be torturous, far worse than anything he could do with the paddle. She shuddered at the thought.

Noise behind her made her turn her head to look. He was putting on a condom. Then he pulled the vibrator out of her body, replacing it with his cock almost faster than she could follow. She gasped as he filled her, arching back against him, loving the feel of his pubic hair scratching at the welts on her ass and thighs. Holding onto her hips, he plunged into her several times, as deep as he could go.

Then, to her horror, he withdrew. Was it done already? She wanted to cry at the thought. But when he opened a package of lube and began to rub it on his cock and into and around her anus, she realized the truth. She had to stifle a gasp. He had only done this to her once before, and it had hurt. But she was so wound up that she couldn't really care. Not that she could stop him.

“Unclench your ass, love,” he said, giving her a light smack. Squeezing her eyes shut, she did as he said, relaxed her muscles enough so that he could pull her cheeks apart. She felt the tip of his cock against her anus. He grabbed her hips and, with one hard thrust, pushed himself into her.

She cried out at the pain, new tears coming to her eyes. He pulled almost all the way out, and then thrust forward again, his balls slapping against her ass. She began to cry in earnest, from the pain and humiliation.

Suddenly, though, she felt fingers at her clit, which were immediately replaced by the vibrator. He did mean to let her come! Suddenly ecstatic, she thrust back against his cock, letting him pierce her, while he rubbed the vibrator against her swollen clit.

He cried out as he came, and the feeling of him pulsing deep inside her, combined with the vibrator, pushed her over the edge. She came with a power that she had never known before, crying out his name.

They collapsed together onto the bed, sweaty and sticky. As she drifted off to sleep, much more satisfied, she reflected that she might have to disobey him more often.