Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!Copyright 1985-2016 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.
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Okay, here it is. My first posting of a FIVE STAR STORY! Five star stories are very special to me, as they are serious erotic literature. This one is one of my first Five Star stories, and one of my very favorites. I hope you will treasue it as much as I do. Your responses, both critical and complimentary, are encouraged and appreciated.
(*****, M/F, Severe, punishment)
A young couple discovers the real meaning behind trust and commitment. An elegant explanation of what erotic spanking is all about. (Approximately 6,156 words. Originally published 1996-02.)
William heard the words for the second time. They sounded loud and grating, but like random noise, without any meaning. The blood pounded so loudly in his head he found it difficult to think, which is some ways, was a blessing.
He didn't want to think. He wanted silence, just to let some time without having to work so hard to understand what she was telling him. He didn't want to understand, at least not yet. It was overwhelming him, and he felt like the universe had suddenly shrunk to shoebox size and he could no longer fit inside.
He wanted to run outside, to scream at the stupid people doing ordinary things. He wanted to get drunk, mindlessly drunk, like he'd only done once or twice in his life.
He looked up at her with his glassy eyes and felt nothing. Jenna was still talking, the tears making her eyes seem even larger and more blue. Her dark hair had fallen in disarray over her forhead, odd wisps floating in various directions. She was lovely, he thought with a strange detachment, as she paused in her narrative, biting her lower lip in a delicious gesture and struggling to hold back the tears.
She _was_ lovely. He looked at her dress, a red and white combination that was one of his favorites. She had her back to him now, her shoulders shaking with sobs, hands covering her face. Even now he wanted her, to touch her body, feel the smooth contours of her generous hips, the amazing heaviness of her breasts in his hands.
He wanted to thrust his hand up her skirt and explore its secrets, to watch every detail of expression in her porcelain face as he touched her, as she became excited and frightened by his touch.
William thought these things, but he was distant. He suddenly realized touching her would mean nothing to him. It would give him pleasure--he could feel that--but her body could not heal his wounds or bring them back together.
Yes, he wanted her the way he had always wanted her--quickly, passionately, with a furious abandon. He knew if he took her it would be over in mere seconds, and he would feel even more discontent in the aftermath.
He loved her in deep ways his heart couldn't express, in ways his body seemed to feel like physical pain. He loved her so much, every tiny part of her. He loved to watch her do things, any little thing. The way she picked up objects, or pursed her lips when she thought, or the way her whole body seemed to glow when she laughed, her voice musical, her eyes mischevious and sparkling.
But he could never reveal this love to her. He had no method of expressing it. His passion always came forth in an uncontrolled rush, over almost before it began, and he had often felt her disappointment, though her words were always mild and loving.
He wanted to run to her now, to wrap her in his arms and hold her tight and beg her to promise to never leave him. He wanted to weep without pause, to let her feel the blood dripping from his torn heart.
But he was silent. He couldn't move. He was numb. His mind was blank and though he stared at her, watched her throw herself at his feet and beg his forgiveness, his heart was empty and silent, and he felt nothing.
She turned away from him, weeping, her soul breaking, and he knew his lack of response hurt her worse than if he had become angry with her, railed against her. He knew this and yet there was nothing he could do. He felt no anger. Only disappointment, disillusionment. His heart broke to see her spirit so crushed, but he could nothing. He could not force himself to feel, even for her sake.
* * * * *
The betrayal had hit him hard. Over two months had passed since she had told him, and the world was a different place. Their house was now a place of tension and fear, of cowardice and shame. Gone was laughter and happiness, loneliness and despair all that remained. Words were whispered, never spoken, each word wrapped in a protective coating of false courtesy and fear.
The old Jenna was gone, replaced by one without strength or will, a mindless one that catered to William's every need and apologized constantly. Her attitude bothered him greatly, and his heart ached and wished everything could simply be as it had been.
Her forgiveness was not the issue. He had told her he forgave her, that he understood. In a way he did understand and he did forgive. But it was not the same. It could never be the same. A vital trust had been broken, a line crossed that could never be undone. Their marriage had been consumated in a chilling fashion and regret filled their miserable existence.
The tension and fear so pervaded the house that they began to avoid each other. He took on extra work at the office, rising before her and returning late. On weekends she made plans to visit friends or relatives, or busied herself with massive projects, such as painting the spare bedroom and preparing the Christmas letter, which for once, would be on time.
The weeks passed, and though the fear left, a coldness settled in its place. They could not talk to each other about anything but the most trivial items. He still could not bring himself to touch her, and she was too frightened to ask him.
William saw the change was beginning to effect Jenna. Her lovely face was always sad and drawn. She was always tired and hardly ate anything. It broke his heart but nothing he could say could console her. She would only nod when he told her he had forgiven her, that it was forgotten. But it brought no life back to their marriage.
She wept all the time, it seemed to him. He would often discover her in the washroom or the bathroom, sobbing quietly, only to right herself when she saw him and wipe away the tears and pretend it was nothing, that she'd been affected by onions or a soap opera.
Occasionally a casual remark by him, or an innocent comment from a friend or an actor on a TV show, would send Jenna, tears flowing, to the ladies room. Her emotional state had become extremely fragile, and soon enough he discovered there was nothing he could do about it. His words did nothing to console her. He stayed even later at the office until his co-worked began to wonder about him, and then he found a distant bar where no one knew him.
One Friday evening he came home late, a little drunk, his frustration great. He felt miserable. There'd been a pretty girl at the bar. She'd talked with him, friendly harmless talk, but he soon realized she was available to him, if he'd just ask.
A part of him had wanted to do it. She was quite pretty and her young body promised fantastic things. And it was nothing but fair, tit for tat. But after a simple kiss his stomach had turned and his mind wondered if this was how it had started with Jenna, an innocent meeting that led to less innocent meetings.
So he had left the stunned girl at the bar and rushed outside to his car. A long drive had cleared his mind somewhat, but he was now dangerous: cold and frustrated, and angry. He grew more angry as he headed home, and by the time he got inside he was furious, in a rather abstract way. He wasn't mad at Jenna, exactly, though that was part of it. Mostly he was mad at the world, that things had to change, that things had to be the way they were.
He slammed the door as he entered and was shocked to see Jenna waiting for him. She hadn't waited up for him for months. She stood in the doorway of the living room, the shape of her body evident in the terry-cloth robe she had wrapped around her.
The sight of Jenna's body reminded him of the girl he had passed up and he growled at her. But she suddenly came forward and hushed him, placing a finger against his lips.
"Come with me," she whispered. William followed without thinking about it. She led him into the living room and had him sit on the couch. "I want to talk with you, William, really talk. Do you understand?"
Her voice was earnest and contained a deadly quality that woke up William. His heart froze and he found it difficult to breathe. He knew what she was going to say, what she wanted. He had known from the beginning it was going to come to this. The thought of living without her suddenly seemed like living without air, something ridiculous, an impossibility.
"William, these last few months have been unbearable to me. I know you say you have forgiven me, but you haven't. You can't. You want to, you really do, I feel it, but you can't. Something inside you will not let you forget. I hurt you in a terrible, unforgivable, mannor, and I deserve only your scorn."
Jenna knelt in front of William and held his hands tightly in her own, every nerve and muscle of her body tensed and waiting for his response. She was asking for his full attention, and knowing that critical decisions were about to be made, he listened to her carefully.
"But we had so much happiness together, at one time, my love," she continued. "I can't bear to think of life never containing that kind of joy again. I want to do anything I can to help you through this, to let you forgive me. Do you understand what I am saying?"
He nodded miserably, tears already in his eyes. "I am sorry, Jenna, so sorry. I just wish this had never happened. I wish there was some way it could be ignored. But I can't forget it. It haunts me. In some ways I wish you had never told me, but that would have been an unbearable burden for you. This burden of mine is not much better for you, but you can escape. You can go away and find happiness somewhere. I understand. I'll let you go, not because I want to, but because I love you so much."
(*****, M/F, Severe, punishment)
A young couple discovers the real meaning behind trust and commitment. An elegant explanation of what erotic spanking is all about. (Approximately 6,156 words. Originally published 1996-02.)
Jenna stared at him in horror, blood drained from her face. "Leave you!" she gasped, clutching her hands to her breast. "Darling I could _never_ leave you. *NEVER!* My own life would leave me before I could walk out that door. This existence we have is a living hell but it is nothing without a future. I have hope that we can work this out, that we can be happy again. Without you I should never be happy!"
William's face brightened slightly. "Then you are not asking for a divorce?"
"A divorce! Never!" Jenna stared at him in amazement. "I love you, William Henry Bailey! I will never leave you or forsake you. Trust me on that one."
There was an awkward moment of silence after that comment and Jenna began to cry. "Can we never escape it's shadow?" William whispered. He reached out and lifted Jenna's chin so he could see her eyes. "Don't cry, Jenna. I believe you. I really do. But if you did not want a divorce, what did you want from me?"
Jenna looked at him and dried her tears. "I had an idea. It's a little radical. I don't know if you will agree to it. But I want you to consider it, please. I think it might help both of us get through this."
"What is your idea?"
"Do you remember me telling you the story of Princess Angela?"
William nodded. He remembered the story well--Jenna had told it to him during an intimate moment a few months prior to their engagement. It was a very personal story, and it had brought them closer together.
When Jenna was a young girl, probably about six or seven, she had coveted a beautiful doll belonging to her older sister Mary. It was a large doll, about eighteen inches tall, and dressed like a princess. Though Mary had many dolls, Princess Angela was one of Mary's favorites.
One afternoon Jenna borrowed the doll. She took it with her to her "secret place" in the woods. But during her play she dropped the doll in some mud, and the spotless doll was horrible dirty. Fearing reprisals, little Jenna hid the doll and pretended ignorance when asked later if she had seen it.
Mary was certain that Jenna had stolen it, but there was no proof. Jenna's mother even searched Jenna's room but couldn't find it, and her father refused to punish her without evidence. Mary was furious and refused to speak to Jenna for months afterward, scorning Jenna with the limitless spite of the young and female.
For a while Jenna had thought she had escaped her fate and was content. She even managed to play with the doll occasionally, but still kept it hidden in the woods, afraid of discovery.
After a short time, however, Jenna discovered the doll rarely brought her joy anymore but only feelings of shame and fear. She played with it less and less, and soon hardly at all. The weather had begun working its destructive powers on the fragile toy, and soon the doll was barely recognizable as Princess Angela, her beautiful gown in shreds, her skin peeling, and her golden hair faded.
Jenna felt horrible about these changes. Like any child with a doll, her maternal instincts were fierce. She felt it inhuman to leave the poor Angela outdoors, but she was terrified her father would spank her if he discovered she'd stolen the doll.
At night Jenna could hardly sleep she was so distraught over what she'd done. Weeks passed and Jenna grew more and more depressed and Princess Angela looked more and more like Peasant Angela.
Finally Jenna could stand it no longer. She ran to her father and gave him poor Angela, sobbing and crying. Her father, realizing with wonder that she cared more about the condition of the plastic doll than her own impending punishment, was moved to compassion. He did not spank Jenna, much to Mary's fury, who thought Jenna should be "spanked a thousand times" for her crimes.
Jenna's punishment was to buy Mary a new doll and pay back the money with months of household chores, and she was forbidden to watch television for one month. Mary thought this wildly unfair and told this to Jenna and their parents any chance she could. For months afterword Mary continued to persecute poor Jenna, who was beside herself with shame and grief. She begged Mary to forgive her but Mary refused, and though the two sisters are wonderful friends today, it was a long time before they would speak to each other.
"Do you remember I told you Mary refused to forgive me?" Jenna asked and I nodded. "No matter how I begged and pleaded she would not, saying that father had never even punished me, that I was his favorite, that I was _spoiled_. I remember that phrase in particular," said Jenna, her face showing her distaste in a delightfully animated manner. "Like rotten meat, I was _spoiled_. It horrified me. I cried myself to sleep at night for weeks, and I had dreams of my father throwning me away because I was spoiled."
Jenna smiled. "A little silly, I know. But I was young and prone to imagination. I don't think I ever told you this, but an important part of that story for me was what happened next. I finally couldn't stand it any more and so I went to my father and through my tears I asked him to spank me. I told him that I deserved a spanking, that I couldn't feel clean until he spanked me.
"But my father refused. He was angry when he heard how Mary was treating me, and he told me he had half a mind to spank _her_, which thoroughly terrified me. How unbearable would she make my life if he did that? I finally convinced him to not punish her, but he would not punish me further, saying that my conscionce had punished me enough."
Jenna had stood up during the last part of this tale and picked up a long, narrow box on the dining room table. She presented it to William, her eyes conveying her apprehension.
"Please, William, do not make the same mistake my father made. Do not let me live in shame and without closure. I _need_ this. I deserve this. Please."
William looked at Jenna in puzzlement and was moved by her earnest tears. He smiled gently and kissed her cheek. "I love you so much," he whispered, his voice hoarse with effort. "I'll do whatever you want me to."
Jenna did not speak but only looked at the box. William understood and opened it carefully. Inside, wrapped in tissue paper, lay a long, flat object. It took him a moment to understand what it was, and he gasped in amazement.
"Jenna! You've got to be joking!"
She shook her head and lifted the large paddle from the box. It was made of heavy white leather, with a sturdy wooden handle. The blade was thin but stiff, and quite long, perhaps eighteen inches. It was only a half a dozen inches wide, but William realized the paddle would pack quite a wallop.
"Jenna, you're an adult. This is crazy. I can't do this."
"You must, William. If you love me you must do it, for both our sakes. It is the only way to end this, to finish it for good, for ever."
"Do you have any idea what you are saying?"
"William, I know _exactly_ what I am saying. I want you to spank me, to paddle me. I did wrong and deserve to be punished. Don't think of this as wife beating or some such nonsense. I'm doing this willingly. I _want_ to do this. Don't even think of me as your wife, if that helps. Think of me as a naughty child needing correction. Whatever works. But please do this. If you don't we will never be able to get past this. It took my sister and I years for us to have anything close to a normal relationship, but that was because of a simple childish incident. For you and I it could be _never_ having the relationship we once had."
William looked at Jenna in astonishment. She was so forceful, so confident. It was the old Jenna back again, her face vibrant and excited. He felt aroused by her presence and her passion, and he longed to hold her in his arms again, to feel her body against his.
He thought carefully about what she was saying. The idea was so foreign to him he wanted to dismiss it without even considering it, but he realized it did make sense. After all, she _had_ done wrong and deserved to be punished. It was just that as adults, physical punishment was not usually one of the options. But she seemed to think it was appropriate somehow, and in spite of his reluctance, William found an animal part of himself that _liked_ the idea of spanking his wife, of pysically punishing her for what she'd done, for what she'd put them through.
"It's only physical pain," Jenna whispered in his ear. "I'll survive it fine. It's nothing permanent, not like our relationship."
William thought more about it and discovered to his horror that he really liked the idea. It made sense to him. It was clean and efficient and simple. And to be done with it--to get this hellish aspect out of their lives forever.
"Jenna," he said slowly. "This idea is really crazy, you know that..."
"You'll do it, though, won't you?"
"Jenna, it's nuts!"
"But you'll do it?"
"Well, I must admit there's a part of me that is really tempted by the idea. But I couldn't, I really couldn't."
"You must, Will. If you love me you'll do it!"
For a long while William was silent and Jenna let him alone to think. She didn't push, but waited, knowing this was a decision he had to make. Finally he spoke.
"_If_, and I do say _if_, because I haven't agreed yet, if we did this, just, uh, how would we go about it?"
Jenna smiled calmly at him. "I thought we could do it right here on the couch," she said leaping up to demonstrate. "I'd kneel like this and lean over the back and you could spank my bottom. It'd work great!" She was full of childish enthusiam as though he was giving her a trip to Disneyland.
"Are you enjoying this," he whispered, only half a question in my voice.
She shook her head. "I'm just happy that you will do this, Honey. It means so much to me that you love me enough to do it..."
That killed the last bit of resistance in him. "Jenna, my darling," he whispered, "if I do this it will have to be real. I mean no chickening out, no running home to mama halfway through. It will have to be _real_ punishment, not pretend. You will have to go beyond what you think you are capable of receiving. You will experience intense pain, more pain than you can imagine. It will purify you, clean you. It will seem unendurable. You will feel like you can't take any more and I'll have to give you more. It will have to be a great sacrifice to you, otherwise the punishment will be meaningless."
William finished this long speech and looked at Jenna breathlessly. She was breathing heavily too, her eyes bright with wonder. "You _do_ understand," she whispered, her voice trembling in excitement. "I love you so much Will!" she exclaimed and threw her arms around him.
After a long hug Jenna pulled away. "Let's get it over with, Honey. Shall we do it now?"
"Are you sure you really want to do this? Are you sure it is really necessary?"
"You know it is, Will. This will haunt us forever if we do not nip it now. Let's do it!" Jenna stood and placed the paddle in William's hands and moved the empty box to the table. She approached the couch a little nervously but she was strong. Without hesitation she unfastened her robe and let it fall beneath her.
She was completely naked underneath.
William looked at her in astonishment and with apprehension. Her body was beautiful--the round, full breasts he loved to hold at night; the long, elegant legs flowing from sleek hips; and though he couldn't see them now, he remembered the fantastic curves of her smooth buttocks well; and finally, that soft triangle of hair at her center, where all her mysteries were explained. He swallowed uneasily.
"My God, you are gorgeous!" he exclaimed, and Jenna giggled.
"I thought you were mad at me."
William didn't answer, but his face grew serious and he motioned to the couch. Jenna obediently knelt on the couch and bent across the back. Her arms rested on the couch back while her breasts dangled just above it. Her long dark hair came down, sheltering the sides of her face. Her bottom stuck out behind her and William approached it cautiously, like an artist appraising a work of art.
He touched her gently, her back arching with his contact. He gently lifted her hands from the couch back and placed them behind her back. "Hold them there," he said gently. "Arch your back more and don't you dare slouch."
Jenna obeyed immediately, lifting herself taller and thrusting her buttocks outward. Her breasts jutted forward and she felt incredibly aroused, but she did not speak. William slipped his hand between her legs and spread them, and Jenna gasped, her sex dripping with desire. Her posture was so artificial she felt graceless, and her cheeks burned with shame.
"This is your last chance to turn back, Jen," whispered William. "Are you sure this really what you want?"
Jenna nodded fiercely and hissed. "Get it over with, Wil. This is tougher than I thought. Be sure you don't slack on my account. Don't you dare go easy on me. I love you too much to lose you that way."
William nodded and picked up the paddle. The handle felt large and solid in his hand. He pressed on the flexible blade and it bent back, though with increasing difficulty. The leather felt smooth and cool. He did a few test swings in the air and then approached his wife.
Jenna was struggling to stay in her awkward position. She wriggled a little, impatient for it to begin. She did not have long to wait.
William felt her bottom with his hand, pinching and kneading the flesh a little, slapping it lightly with his hand a few times, just to hear the sound. Jenna grunted and wiggled.
Pleased, William began the spanking. The first few smacks weren't a problem for either of them. William was delighted with the way Jenna's bottom bounced under the paddle, and she loved the flowing warmth that flooded her bottom.
Again and again William brought the paddle hard across her buttocks, and soon Jenna was feeling the pain. Tears were flowing down her face and she was forced to increase her resolve to kneel patiently and accept the fierce stinging.
Again and again she wanted to turn away, to run, to cover her poor bottom with her hands, but she steeled herself against these temptations and reminded herself of why she was in this position, of the time she _hadn't_ used her willpower to do the right thing. The smack of the spanks was deafening and she found herself frightened by the violence.
The spanking grew fiercer as William became engaged by the process, enjoying the feel of her flesh through the paddle. He gave her tremendous upward strokes that lifted her buttocks. He smacked her from the sides, abusing one buttcheek and then other. He paddled the lower portion of her buttocks, so close to her tender thighs and right near her sex, exposed between her spread legs.
Jenna whimpered and moaned, and it was all she could do to keep her bottom in position. In desperation she wiggled her buttocks, the paddle continually striking her. She was upright now, her tears wetting her hair and breasts.
William encouraged her, pausing and using his hand to rotate her bottom in a circular motion. She complied almost eagerly, desperately, frantically wagging her butt about in larger and larger circles as William alternatively praised and critized her. She thrust her buttocks out toward him and received the smart spanks from the paddle almost with relish.
Jenna's bottom was already very red and William was growing worried. He felt extremely aroused by the spanking, his wife's naked bottom, her tears, and her humble acceptance of the terrible pain all turning him on stronger than ever before in his life. He now knew he wanted to make it last, to really punish her. If he paddled her too harshly he could really hurt her, and he didn't want to do that.
Suddenly he had an idea. He ordered her off the couch onto the floor, on her hands and knees. He was delighted when she obeyed without question, without wonder. Urging her to crawl, he spanked her across the room and back again. It was impossible, but his cock grew even harder at the sight of her scurrying across the carpet to please him.
Continuing to spank her, he ordered her to arch her back even more, to thrust her buttocks high into the air so he could spank them. Sobbing, she complied, though the position was humiliating and slowed her crawl speed considerably. He forced her down until her forehead was against the floor and her breasts dragged across the carpet, the hardened tips of her nipples rubbed raw.
They raced across the room, faster and faster, again and again, William constantly urging Jenna to push her bottom higher, and smacking her bottom each time she did so. Jenna was beside herself with terror and frustration. She was desperately afraid of further stings from the paddle, yet she desperately wanted to please her husband, to appease him. Each time she struggled through some difficult task he would reward her with more pain, but there was nothing to do but weep and obey, weep and obey.
Tiring of chasing her, William returned to the couch and urged her over the back. This time, however, he had her bend completely across the back so her naked bottom was at the top of the couch back and she had to brace herself with her hands on the floor.
This spanking really hurt, and she sobbed miserably and kicked her legs in frustration. Her bottom was completely exposed in this position, and William brought down the blows from high above, causing her more pain in those few spanks than she had thought possible. Her breasts hung heavy against her chest, and her hair was soaked with her tears. Though she was glad the chasing was over, at least there had been some escape in the movement--here there nothing but raw pain, her buttocks exposed and vulnerable.
As the spanking continued, William studied his wife. He noted her every reaction, the abandoned way she wept without shame, and how she obeyed him even when it hurt her. He noted these things and many others, and he loved her for them. But he realized he hadn't broken her yet, really broke through to her inner self. She was suffering, yes, but there were still tests for her to pass. How far would she go for his love?
He pushed her further.
"Stand up," he ordered. "Now squat with your knees wide apart. Place your hands behind your neck. Excellent." He was pleased with her quick obedience. She was still crying and she was biting her lower lip in that delicious fashion of hers, but he was pleased.
Setting the paddle aside he began to slap her breasts. Jenna had large, round breasts. He loved to feel their weight, the way they swayed as he slapped them. Jenna moaned and cried but did not speak. She whimpered as he spanked her breasts again and again. He could feel her nipples hardening. When she was clearly aroused, he had her turn her buttocks to him and he spanked her soundly with the paddle. In the squatting position this was excrutiating, and he forced her to waddle about, her knees open wide to expose her sex.
Light welts were forming on her buttocks when he stopped. He had her face him and with the paddle he poked and prodded her sex, watching her squirm in delight, her face flushed with embarrasment at her shameless desire.
Instructing her to stand he spanked her in that position, making sure she kept her legs apart and her bottom relaxed, her hands gripped frantically to the back of her neck.
"Jog in place," he commaned, and she obeyed. "Lift your knees high, higher!" he ordered, smacking her delicate bottom with hard, upward strokes. She wimpered and cried but obeyed, though it felt awkward and graceless to run like that. Her breasts bounced heavily against her chest and her sex dripped shamelessly.
He continued to spank her fiercely. She wept miserably, jogging desperately, the loud spanks of the paddle making her frantic. She hurt so much all she could think about was her bottom, the tender flesh raw and blazing, of how it was possible to hurt so much, and what she must look like. When she imagined how she looked, naked, jogging in place with her hands gripped tightly to the back of her neck, her scarlet buttocks bouncing wildly with her frenzied movement and each terrific blow from the paddle, all she could do was cry, the tears dripping down her cheeks and onto her trembling breasts.
When her flesh was growing heavily welted William stopped. He led her to the couch and sat down, pulling her across his lap. She began to cry again as she realized what he had in mind.
But he put down the paddle and began to cup and caress her buttocks with his hands, kneading and pinching the the sore flesh. Jenna squealed and struggled to keep still, to stop wiggling as he ordered, but her buttocks were so sensitive that just the touch of his hand made her cry.
With his hand he began to spank her, heavy, noisy slaps that she found even more humiliating than the paddle. It was because she was bent across his lap, she thought, because he was so close. Through his jeans she could feel his hardened sex against her thighs and it drove her wild.
He spanked her long and hard, his hand scooping up her bottom with each hard slap. He spanked her without rhythm, giving her a quick burst of a dozen blows that felt like one continuous one, followed by a series so slow that between the blows she wondered if he had forgotten her. Occasionally he would stop and feel her bottom, asking her if it was warm enough, if she was enjoying her punishment.
He bent his head and kissed the raw flesh of her buttocks, bringing gasps and groans of pleasure from her mouth. He licked at the painful welts.
It was at this moment that Jenna finally gave in. The moment was so tender, so full of raw feeling, that Jenna completely gave herself over. She abandoned herself. And when he roughly pried her buttocks apart, ignoring her groans to be gentle, and touched the tip of his tongue to her little pink anus, she threw herself into it, thrusting her buttocks upward, her shame irrelevant. All that mattered was that he be pleased, which he was.
His left hand grasped her breasts and squeezed them together, pinching the nipples cruelly as he began to spank her again with the paddle. She arched her back without his command and thrust her bottom toward the paddle, eager to accept the pain to please her master.
When he had finished she lay on his lap sobbing, her body drained. She felt exhausted. She knew it was finished, that she had survived, and she was elated. William seemed pleased.
He rolled her over onto the carpet and dropped himself on top of her, entering her quickly. He was certain his weight and the carpet were cruel again her red bottom, but that was part of the punishment. As he thrust himself into her with violent surges that brought wild gasps of pain and pleasure from her, he reached around and squeezed her hot buttocks. She was weeping and shuddering when he came.
It was over all too quickly. William rolled over and Jenna lay gasping, her sex barely satisfied. She approached him the way she often did, pleading with him to satisfy her fierce craving. This time he was surprised to discover himself ready for her. He was already hard and she mounted him in a squat. He reached up and fondled her breasts as she pounded herself into him, her buttocks bouncing against his thighs. With a tremendous groan that shocked him she came, flinging herself across him with an abandon he found heart-wrenching.
"I love you," he whispered in her ear. She turned to him and wiped her sweat-stained hair from her eyes and smiled. "Thank you," was all she said, but the world was in those two words. She laid her head on his chest and in a moment she was asleep, her breathing even. Looking at her William realized he hadn't see her so reposed in months. She looked peaceful and relaxed and happy, truly happy.
With a gentle smile William caressed Jenna's hair. Then he closed his eyes and laid back and slept.