She asked for this
Posted: Sat Nov 01, 2014 3:05 pm
He leads her to the bedroom, takes her hand and pulls her to his knee. He hesitates for a moment and lifts her dress. The bare skin of her middle rests motionless on his lap. The rough of his jeans, a stark contrast to her soft, supple skin. Her bare bottom looks like fine porcelain. He is about to change that. She asked for this.
In fact she had been asking for this for more than a year. She has no idea how real it is about to become. She needs this. This time...she deserves it. The game has changed.
He begins. Each swing brings a brighter shade of pink to the porcelain. One after another in a smooth, effortless rhythm. She starts to struggle and he wraps his leg around her to hold her still. He leans his forearm across her shoulders and continues his rhythm. She says she's sorry and asks him to stop. He doesn't stop. She asked for this.
He continues. She begs him to stop and when he doesn't she reaches to block his hand. He grabs her hand tightly and tells her..."I don't understand why you are fighting me like this, it's exactly what you asked for and it's happening ." His rhythm abruptly changes. It's faster and harder and with clear purpose. She howls and kicks. She tells him how much it hurts and begs for his forgiveness. He does not hear her. She broke the rules. He does not stop. She asked for this.
Her bottom is bright red now. He notices welts popping up here and there, cracks in the porcelain. He pauses and breathes deeply. He lets her rub the crimson he has created, but as she starts to rise from his knee, he holds her...."not yet my love, not yet." He eyes the paddle that lies on the table to her right. It has always been a prop. Never intended for use because she loves the feel and the sound of his hand to her skin.
But he picks up the paddle. It was light in his hand. It was small. It hardly felt like it could teach a lesson, but he knew that it would. He once again wrapped his leg around hers. He swings. She squeals. He swings. She squeals. Again. Again. And again. She asked this.
His wife, his princess. She needs the release,but more importantly, the humility this will bring her. She needs the surrender. He continues for a second or two until he is startled by her tears. He pauses and rubs her bottom softly. She sobs. He knows now what she meant by taking her to the edge. He knows she is there, looking over the abyss in front of her. He knew what he had to do. He laid the paddle down. He sighs. She needs this. His hand came down hard and fast on what he could see was a very sore bottom, just a few more times. Over the edge she went. She asked for this.
He pulls her to his chest. He holds her. He kisses her tears. She sobs. She smiles, then grimace. Head on his shoulder, he holds her.
In fact she had been asking for this for more than a year. She has no idea how real it is about to become. She needs this. This time...she deserves it. The game has changed.
He begins. Each swing brings a brighter shade of pink to the porcelain. One after another in a smooth, effortless rhythm. She starts to struggle and he wraps his leg around her to hold her still. He leans his forearm across her shoulders and continues his rhythm. She says she's sorry and asks him to stop. He doesn't stop. She asked for this.
He continues. She begs him to stop and when he doesn't she reaches to block his hand. He grabs her hand tightly and tells her..."I don't understand why you are fighting me like this, it's exactly what you asked for and it's happening ." His rhythm abruptly changes. It's faster and harder and with clear purpose. She howls and kicks. She tells him how much it hurts and begs for his forgiveness. He does not hear her. She broke the rules. He does not stop. She asked for this.
Her bottom is bright red now. He notices welts popping up here and there, cracks in the porcelain. He pauses and breathes deeply. He lets her rub the crimson he has created, but as she starts to rise from his knee, he holds her...."not yet my love, not yet." He eyes the paddle that lies on the table to her right. It has always been a prop. Never intended for use because she loves the feel and the sound of his hand to her skin.
But he picks up the paddle. It was light in his hand. It was small. It hardly felt like it could teach a lesson, but he knew that it would. He once again wrapped his leg around hers. He swings. She squeals. He swings. She squeals. Again. Again. And again. She asked this.
His wife, his princess. She needs the release,but more importantly, the humility this will bring her. She needs the surrender. He continues for a second or two until he is startled by her tears. He pauses and rubs her bottom softly. She sobs. He knows now what she meant by taking her to the edge. He knows she is there, looking over the abyss in front of her. He knew what he had to do. He laid the paddle down. He sighs. She needs this. His hand came down hard and fast on what he could see was a very sore bottom, just a few more times. Over the edge she went. She asked for this.
He pulls her to his chest. He holds her. He kisses her tears. She sobs. She smiles, then grimace. Head on his shoulder, he holds her.