Anatomy of a Spanking

The struggle ended at the couch. She whined and flailed as I dragged her across the apartment by her arm, but when I sat down and pulled her onto them lap she was suddenly still and quite.

My hand naturally went to her hair. No matter how she laid, her posture could always be improved. I moved under her and guided her by the hair until she was in the ideal position. Her waist directly over my lap, her chest and arms leaning on the couch cushion next to me, and her knees resting on the other side of me. This pushed her ass high enough for me to get a good angle and made sure that as much of our bodies were touching as possible.

In that position, with my hand in her hair, I was in control of her body, but I was also hyper aware of it. I could feel every move she made, pressing against me or shifting away from me.

She looked back at me over her shoulder, her hair covering most of her face, but her eyes still visible as she narrowed them at me and pouted. Her attitude only made me smile. I pulled her head back into position by her hair, hard enough that she said “ouch!”

I liked hearing her say “ouch.” I liked ouch followed by my name even more, but we would have a talk about that. We had a lot to talk about. This was, after all, her fist time over my lap.

Her skirt was already a mess, wrinkled and pulled up so that her thighs were exposed. Continuing to hold her hair in one hand I moved my other up her legs, up her thighs, then pushing her skirt up father until it was flipped over her back. She started to squirm again and I tugged on her hair once more. When I pulled down her panties she stopped squirming and tensed. The room was quiet except for her labored breathing.

Her ass was a pretty round canvas. Her pink panties around her knees and her dress pulled up made everything look dirtier. As her back arched the half peach of her pussy was just barely visibly between her thick thighs.

Want flooded my veins, but I held it in check. I let the want transform into something else, something like cruelty. Then my hand smoothed over her ass, slowly my fingers closing, squeezing her cheek leaving little red trails where my nails scratched.

Then I gave her the first smack. Her body jumped, I felt her against my hardening cock. I slap again. I was getting the feel of her skin, seeing how she reacted, seeing how much she could take and how far I could push her.

The rhythm took over a little then, slow and steady smacks on her ass, each one as close to the last as possible.

I could see the side of her face, her eyes closed, her jaw clenched. She wanted to take it for me. She wants to make me proud. That meant I had to find out how much she could take and dance on the edge of that line.

I mix up the strokes, letting the slaps get slightly softer and go very hard. From then on each strike was a little harder with a pause in-between to let her process the feeling. Her skin was red from my hand, her face was red from exertion and desire and shame. It was shame that made me smile the most and made me even harder.

The smacks echo through the room. Slow and hard. She grunted with each and let out a little shuddering whimper. She rose up with each slap too, her knees pressed against the couch cushions so that her ass was even higher.

When I pauses again she took the moment to rest, settling down. I was sure she could feel my hard cock pressing against her hip.

I took a minute to smooth her skin over with my hand. I let go of her hair and rub her back.

When I start again it was on the other cheek, the same building. It was a faster cycle though, since her body was primed.

When I got to the hardest strikes she was gritting her teeth and bracing for impact. My hand was throbbing and stinging. My arm was burning from the constant motion. Her ass was crimson with raised marks and a hundred imprints of my hand.

When I paused my fingers rested on her thigh. I could see her pussy again, the lips wet. Her things were wet too. As my fingers moved in-between her legs she tensed again as if I were going to hit her. I traced the little space between her thighs and her cunt. Her breath caught. My fingers slipped against her lips and she moaned “please?”

Then the spanking started again. The warmup was over. My arm went high up in the air and came down fast. Each hit pushing her body down and forward as she cried out.

I knew the vibrations of these hits were all pointing right to her cunt. I saw that even though it hurt her ass was pushing farther up, hoping my fingers would show mercy and slip between her legs again.

My hand was steadying me on the couch. She had moved and embraced my arm, hiding her face near my hand, eventually sucking on two of my fingers either to pull my concentration away or just to take solace in some kinder physically connection.

The last few hits were so hard I felt like my palms would split. She was waling with each smack. Finally she turned her body so that she was facing me. She curled into a ball on my lap and I hugged her.

“Shh, that was very good,” I whispered and she looked up at me with wet red rimmed eyes.

“My good girl,” I said, kissing her tears.

She said nothing, she just sobbed and shook.

I comforted her. I held her. Eventually my hand slipped back to her ass, to feel the fever hot skin. Then my fingers moved between her legs and although she squirmed a little at first, when my fingers finally slipped between her thighs she clutched my arm and let out an animal moan.

*

The women who I went out for drinks with, the woman who was brash and sassy and went toe to toe with me, joke for joke, was gone. Well, perhaps not gone but sleeping. In her place was a mess of a girl on my lap, pretty and drunk with adrenaline and desire.

The wit was still there, as was the sass, but it was buried under her tangled hair and her blushing face and her wonderfully big ass, which was covered in bright red spots and marks and welts.

It was hard to know which aspect of her I liked more, but thankfully I didn’t have to choose. I’d get them both, either one at a time or mashed up into one.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She was a sweet girl now, a good girl. She wanted to be cuddled and cared for. So I took off her clothes.

In her state, her eyes opened wide when I started pulling off her shirt and unsnapping her bra. She went along though, biting her lip in embarrassment.

When she was stripped down to nothing but her knee high socks I led her by the hand to my bed. She sat on the edge looking down.

She didn’t know what to do with her hands. When she covered her breasts I slapped her across the face. When she looked up at me in confusion I slapped her again.

“You don’t hide yourself from me, do you understand?”

She swallowed and nodded.

“You’re hands either go behind you or between your legs, do you understand?”

She didn’t.

I kneeled on the bed and took her arms and twisted them behind her, placing her hands on her opposite forearms and then grabbing her hair and making her face me.

“Behind your back.”

I then grabbed her arms and moved her hands back in front of her. I roughly slapped her thighs until she spread her legs and then took one of her hands and pushed it between her thighs. I moved her middle finger with mine, pushing it between her lips. She whimpered and tried to move her hand away, but I kept it there.

“Or between your legs. You pick.”

Then I stood in front of her and watched as I took off my tie and my jacket. She rubbed, slowly, watching as I unbuckled my belt and let it slip out of the loops. Then my shirt, my pants, my shoes and my socks, until I was in nothing but an a-shirt and boxers.

She wasn’t blushing anymore. She was hypnotized by the rubbing of her own hand. She was wanton.

I went to the bed and sat with back against the headboard, propping myself up with pillows and then patting my lap for her to come to me.

She turned and crawled to me on the bed, her big tits swaying, her eyes glazed and hungry. When she got to me we kissed. It was a long and slow kiss, with my hand moving up to cup her breasts, squeezing them greedily, possessively. Her breasts made me hardest. They made me the greediest and the most predatory. The lusciousness of them let me objectify her the most. Just a pretty slut with big tits for me to use.

Before I know it she is wincing and crying out as my fingers squeezed her hard and my fingers found her nipples and roughly pulled and twisted. Her cries were sweet little music notes. The look on her face, pained but ecstatic, eyes closed, mouth open, cheek red where I slapped her.

I grab her by the hair and turned her around, opening my legs and sitting her between them, one hand still on her breast, the other moving to her neck.

“I like your body. I like using it. Such a useful girl you are with your big tits and your wet cunt,” I whispered into her ear.

“Do you like being useful?” I asked, moving my hand from her breast to between her legs.

She kept her back straight for me, pressing against me, hands going behind her into the position I had shown her.

“Yes, sir,” she answered.

“Yes, what?”

I slapped her inner thigh hard and she jumped. I took her thick thigh in my hand, pinching hard, taking palmfuls of flesh and hurting her, scratching, pinching, raking with my nails, then up, up to her wet pussy, two fingers slipping into her tightness.

“Yes- I like- being- useful,” she said, her words broken by gasps.

“A useful girl for me,” I corrected.

“A useful girl for you, sir” she repeated.

Then my finger found the hardness of her clit and I pressed down on it, rubbing in small circles. Everyone is different and I had her show me how she liked to be fingered on our first date. She tensed and shook as I found the rhythm of her rocking hips.

“Fuck, that’s perfect,” she mumbled.

And then I smiled. I smiled because she gave me what I wanted, a reason.

I pushed her forward, pulled her onto her knees, forced her face into the mattress.

“What have I said about that kind of language in my home?” I said, smacking her ass hard twice.

“I’m sorry!” she whimpered, the switch between pleasure and abrupt pain making her body writhe.

Here is a little secret: the key is cycles. Adrenaline makes you go up and then you come down, but only for a little while. When you are ready for the next spin, you can go longer and harder. Arousal also has an amazing effect on pain tolerance. When someone is primed to fuck, they can take far more. Keeping that in mind I hit her hard on the ass, my hands still sore, but that was easy to ignore.

On her knees with her head down, her ass and pussy were completely exposed. I moved the spanking down her thighs, which were far more tender, and then swatted at her pussy, making her squirm to get away.

I moved beside her and put my hand on the back of her neck, holding her down like an animal, and continued to move from hard fast slaps on her ass to lighter slaps on her thighs and pussy, back to hard spanks.

When her moans and whimpers turned into real cries I moved my red hand back between her legs and pushed two fingers back into her pussy. The sound she made was a lovely choking gasp.

I continued the cycle. Fingering her until she was on the edge, then moving back to spanking her. When she got comfortable with any sensation, I changed it.

When I couldn’t take it any more and needed to fuck her, I laid her out on my bed, face down, and straddled her ass.

“Are you ready to be a very useful girl now? Are you ready to get fucked?”

She looked back , her eyes big, nodding her head furiously.

“Yes, please, yes!”

That was the tough part. It was so nice to tease her, to deny her, to hear her beg, but I just couldn’t keep myself from fucking her any longer.

I leaned over to my bedside table and got a condom and a few toys. The Hitachi was a prize, because she really was being a very good girl. I put it in her hand and pushed it under her, letting her press it against her clit.

I held her down by the back of her neck, and slapped her ass one more time.

“Be a good girl and keep that on your clit and push your ass up for me,” I said listening to the buzzing of the toy and her quickening breath.

She did, giving me a perfect angle. I straddled her legs and slipped the condom on and then slipped my cock into her.

That was it. She pushed her ass into every thrust and she ground against the vibrator, ground against my cock, screaming into the mattress.

It wasn’t going to take very long for either of us, but I rode her hard, her ridiculous wetness letting me go deep and fast.

“Sir, can I?” she begged.

I was able to grab the cord of the Hitachi and pull it away without stopping my thrusting.

“Not yet.”

She pounded her fist on the mattress and the pout she gave me when she looked back at me almost made me come.

I felt myself nearing the edge. I slowed, feeling how tight she was deep inside. Slipping against her wet thighs. Slapping her ass again, just to feel her buck against me.

“Ok, you can use the Hitachi again and you can come if you can do it fast. I’m almost there,” I commanded.

She fumbled for the machine and switched it back on. She moved it in position. Her eyes were closed, her hips up high, taking my thrusts.

“Use me, please, sir,” she whined.

The image in my head as I started to come was shooting my come deep inside of her. There was something very forbidden and dirty about the thought. The thought of her begging for it.

“Please can I come, sir? Can I come now?” she begged.

“Yes,” I grunted as I came hard, feeling her clutch around me and shudder under me and listening to her scream and moan.

A few minutes later, after her orgasm was done with her, she curled up next to me in bed. She pulled off my shirt, needing more of my skin, and kissed my neck and buried her head in my chest.

“Good girl,” I said kissing her forehead.

She smiled a wide proud smile and squirmed closer and I pet her head and kissed her again and again until we drifted off into a little nap.

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