What in the blood hell had she been thinking? I told her to leave off the panties, wear a corset and dress and have her hair loose. Now look at her - simpering on the bed all curled up in the fetal position, her ass so bright I can see it reflecting the moonlight.
She asked for this. Verbally and non verbally, she'd asked for this. When I came home her was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, her hair up in a tight ponytail. She'd smirked at me as turned away, wiggling her ass so I could see the panty line beneath the too tight denim. I'd grabbed her hair and pulled her against me.
"You trying to tell me something?" I'd asked.
"Maybe you need to assert a little more control over me," she'd countered.
So I had. Within moments, I'd pulled the band from her ponytail and ripped the offending clothes from her body. She'd not struggled, but rather laughed. This infuriated me.
I'd pushed her over the table in kitchen, told her to keep her hands flat on the table and whipped off my belt. Mercy was not expected nor given. There was no gentle warm up. From the first swipe of my heavy belt, she'd cringed and her skin glowed red. After 10 minutes of this treatment, I heard her crying.
"Okay, Okay. Maybe I went a little overboard," she admitted.
"A little late admitting that, don't you think," I answered.
She didn't answer, but I saw her nod her head in silent acceptance.
I pulled out a chair and sat down, dragging her across my lap. She didn't struggle or complain. I have to admit, this is my favorite routine. Her hot ass, already tender, response in quivering anticipation to my firm and hard hand. I work with my hands, so they're strong and somewhat callused, perfect for administering a spanking. Eventually, her legs kicked and she cried. She wiggled, vainly trying to pull away from her punishment. I ignored her pleas and continued. She was right. I needed to assert control of her more often and more firmly.
When I'd finished and my hand was numb, I slid her to the floor where she pressed her forehead against my legs.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Pleased, I helped her up and walked her to the bedroom, placing her on the bed so she could nurse her pride.
She thinks it's over. She thinks she has the night to contemplate and recover.
Poor little thing, I think as I peel the long finger of ginger with a sharp knife. The night has just begun.
She asked for this. Verbally and non verbally, she'd asked for this. When I came home her was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, her hair up in a tight ponytail. She'd smirked at me as turned away, wiggling her ass so I could see the panty line beneath the too tight denim. I'd grabbed her hair and pulled her against me.
"You trying to tell me something?" I'd asked.
"Maybe you need to assert a little more control over me," she'd countered.
So I had. Within moments, I'd pulled the band from her ponytail and ripped the offending clothes from her body. She'd not struggled, but rather laughed. This infuriated me.
I'd pushed her over the table in kitchen, told her to keep her hands flat on the table and whipped off my belt. Mercy was not expected nor given. There was no gentle warm up. From the first swipe of my heavy belt, she'd cringed and her skin glowed red. After 10 minutes of this treatment, I heard her crying.
"Okay, Okay. Maybe I went a little overboard," she admitted.
"A little late admitting that, don't you think," I answered.
She didn't answer, but I saw her nod her head in silent acceptance.
When I'd finished and my hand was numb, I slid her to the floor where she pressed her forehead against my legs.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Pleased, I helped her up and walked her to the bedroom, placing her on the bed so she could nurse her pride.
She thinks it's over. She thinks she has the night to contemplate and recover.
Poor little thing, I think as I peel the long finger of ginger with a sharp knife. The night has just begun.
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1 comments:
I really like where this story is heading.
HH
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