Over Your Lap

[MsBehave]

I want to be a better person for you, and knowing I have let you down makes me begin to cry. You’re the one who will drop anything for me at a moment’s notice and I adore you for it. You make me feel more deeply, hurt more acutely, love more freely... and your dominance completes the submissive heart of me.

“What’s my name?” you growl as you wrap my hair around your fist tightly.

“Sir,” I stutter without a moment’s hesitation.

“Why do you cry, little one?” You whisper against my neck.

I already know the answer. It’s not in anticipation of my punishment--it’s because I have let you down. “I let myself down,” I say, because you wouldn’t allow me the possibility that I’d let you own. That’s unacceptable.

“Good girl,” you murmur in your hypnotic, deep tone, and I feel myself slipping and becoming heavy.

There it is-that oddness about discipline in the pit of my tummy. You can be disappointed that I’ve let myself down and equally I am your “good girl.” My tummy now see-saws back to good butterflies.

“Are you ready to be disciplined?” You ask me as though I have a choice in the matter. I will be disciplined when so ever you feel it’s appropriate. Waiting for it is the worst.

“Yes, Sir,” I whisper. I wish I could see.

Abruptly I am yanked over your lap. As I fall you catch me so I don’t hurt myself on the trip over. What a fitting metaphor. My yelp is quashed as I land softly.

“I adore your curves,” you say, almost reluctantly, as though you haven’t made up your mind what type of spanking this will be.

“Thank you, Sir,” I sigh, hopeful, yet I remain stock still.

“Hmmmmm,” your warm, large hand caresses my bottom all over, stroking and kneading. “Hmmmm.”

I want to scream, ‘Oh please touch me!’ but I remain still. I want to hear you ask me to open myself to you, but you say nothing further and the butterflies merge with angry wasps.

Spank!

Your hand pulls me back from my musings sharply.

Spank!

You swat both cheeks, striking them at mirror image. I imagine the first bloom of pinkness to appear there as you grunts with satisfaction.

Spank!

You pepper my cheeks with fiery hot swats as I lie as still as I can manage.

“Hold still!” You growl.

I lose count of how many swats you have visited upon me.

“Will you ever try that again?” you demand to know.

Will I? At that thought I begin to sniffle until it turns into a wail again. “No,” I decide.

“Good girl,” you state enthusiastically, and I imagine the smile across your face, because I can hear the pleasure in your voice.

Instantly I calm.

“I’m so sorry,” I cry. I cry softly into your leg.

“No need to say it aloud. I am taking it out of your flesh, little one.” You spank me harder until the pain bites back through the haziness that is insistent it wins out.

I curse beneath my breath but you hear it between the groans.

“Fuck?” You scoff. “Fuck?” Your hand hesitates before coming down hard on my sit spots. “Is that the way my lady speaks?”

Do I feel like a lady? “No,” I grumble.

Now your hand rains down without mercy. “Give it up to me,” you coax in that dreamy cadence, belying the beating my bottom is taking.

I break softly for you without further fuss, relaxing and giving you everything you need to know from my body not my lascivious mouth.

Your hand gently lifts my chin and sweeps through my hair. “There’s my good girl with the lobster red tail!”

My bottom is on fire, yet it is no comparison to the fires that burn within.

“Now be a good girl and open for me.”