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The Power of 36…

02 Oct

I lie across the bed…anticipation pulsing through my veins like an electrical current. I can feel the pillows beneath me…bunched up and twisted from my movements…yet, still pushing my ass further into the air. The paddle comes down yet again on my already sore cheeks – “lucky” number 21 in the third of six series of six. Thirty-six total. 36. The paddle is unforgiving. It doesn’t really give a shit that it just landed in the same spot moments ago. And neither does JD. I wince, and squirm from side to side…pleading oh so sweetly with JD to stop…but he reminds me of my tantrum the night before and continues.

He’s right. I was…astonishingly badly behaved. Even for me. But, god dammit, I just get so fucking angry. And I drank Jack Daniels. That shit should be ranked right up there with Jagermeister for the devil it brings out in me. I focus on the paddle count once more and drift away…30…”Baby, please, I promise I’ll try harder”…33…”But baby, it hurts sooo much.”…35…”Ooow, FUCK!” And then I hear him whisper in my ear, “Just one more…hold your position.” And finally…36. It’s over. I’m told to remain lying across the bed, which I do gratefully, but still risk slipping a hand back to feel the knots and welts quickly forming in the meatiest part of my buttocks. He clears his throat from across the room. That’s all the reprimand I need, I return my hands back to their position on the pillow.

He slides onto the bed beside me, and immediately I am reverberating with pure adrenaline. I love having him fuck me after a spanking. He rolls me over, kneading my ass as he does…the action causing me to wince and whimper in one motion. He kisses me and I nip at his bottom lip in anticipation and he quickly enters me…it’s barely seconds before I orgasm…and then he begins to speak to me…

“Rebecca, I can allow for you to be angry, but I cannot allow you to be disrespectful.” I nod in agreement…so close to orgasm I’m willing to agree to almost anything. He continues, “Do you remember what you did last night, Rebecca?” I think for a moment, the realization of my actions suddenly making impact like a hurricane making landfall. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. I really am. I’ll never do it again, I promise.” He looks down at me patiently, still moving inside of me. I orgasm again. “Perhaps, but you must still be punished. You do not spit at me.” I breathe in sharply. I know I spit in his face. I remember it vividly. But hearing him say it is a different matter. I nod. Silently acquiescing to whatever punishment he has in mind. He continues to lecture, “Would you like it if I sprayed my body fluids all over you?” I shake my head earnestly. He pauses for a moment. “You wouldn’t like that would you? That would be humiliating wouldn’t it?” “Yes, sir.” I whisper. He grasps my chin between his thumb and forefinger and speaks very deliberately. “Well then, perhaps that’s how I should punish you.” I tear up immediately, silently begging him to change his mind, yet hoping beyond hope that he doesn’t. He slowly withdraws, his cock still damp from my wetness. He stands up beside the bed and gently shifts my position…slipping my shirt over my head and then turning me so that my head is directly beneath him. He looks down at me and then deliberately begins to stroke his cock…

Even now, as I’m being punished, I can’t help but watch in wonder as his hand moves up and down the shaft of his cock…fuck, I have always found that hot. I realize my mouth is slightly open and I quickly close it, swallowing hard. He continues to stroke. And lecture. “Rebecca, I want you to express yourself, but you will learn to do so in a healthy manner. Spitting is not ok. Next time I hope you make a better choice.” He begins to stroke a bit faster now, the rhythm of his motion and the cadence of his breath becoming one. I hear my own breath quicken and I close my eyes just in time to feel the first spurt of warm cum hit my face. And then another…and another…I can hear him continue to chastise me, “Does that feel good, Rebecca? Do you like to have things spitting in your face?” “No, sir.” I answer, as cum drips into my mouth.

He finishes, and after a moment leans forward, pushes my hair back, and kisses my forehead. He reaches down and hands me a towel. I quickly clean myself up, and he slips onto the bed once again, gathering me into his arms. I snuggle in close, apologize once again and then feel my pulse quicken as he whispers against my hair, “That was just for the spitting. You’ll be getting 36 with the bathbrush for the rest of your behavior last night.”

I shudder. I fucking HATE the bathbrush.

 
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Posted by on October 2, 2012 in fetish, spanking

 

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