Posted by red on June 26th, 2005 in Sex, Spanking

First comes…

He takes his belt – the stiffer, black one, and flicks it at me. The tip goes wild and I yelp angrily as it wraps itself all the way around my leg and snaps my upper inner thigh. My hand clasps the area, covering the angry red welt blossoming on my milky white skin.

My eyes flash; I rear back. I insist that he cannot do it again.

Moments later I am up against the back of the couch, olive green cushions resting against that same welt on my thigh. I am leaning forward, arms folded on the shelf a bit behind the couch. My chin rests lightly on the cup formed by my folded hands. He’s holding his light brown Italian leather belt, worn soft and supple by years of use in a more conventional role. Tonight, it’s folded in half, swung so that the folded tip hits the outside of my left bum cheek.

Carefully – but so very sharply and quickly – he brings it down over and over again.

I know I need it to be hard; I know that I want to cry. But it hurts…oh it hurts. I lurch slightly – over and over. He waits so calmly, patiently telling me to keep my hands and chin in place, held just as they are. He reminds me that I know how to put a stop to it all if I want. Just one simple word.

Eggplant

He strikes again, and again and I feel something welling up inside of me. This all-encompassing wave of serenity and distress that brews up from my belly. I embrace it as well I can, releasing tension and relaxing more and more and more and… Ever increasingly the blows seem to get harder – yet he remains steady. I let my vice-like grip on self control loosen till it finally falls limp after an agonizing eternity. I feel that rush of relief, that cascade of raw, painful, screaming serenity I had been so desperately craving.

And then, right then, just as the word starts falling off my lips, the first syllable barely a squeek above my ragged breathing “…ehhhhgggggg…” he stops. Perfectly timed.

His breath is coming hard now and he’s beside me, gathering me up. I am shivering and tingling and the tears have started. Trails of salty relief sliding down my smiling cheeks, along my ginning jaw, and down onto the quivering breasts below. Now I’m on my back, my legs being pressed up to my head, and his glistening and swollen cock slipping into me, grazing my grotesquely engorged g-spot…once…twice…and then I’m coming…My head is spinning and my skin tingling in waves as my pussy grips onto him for dear life; wetness spreading haphazardly over the welt on my inner thigh.

Then comes…

My mouth settles onto his cock, my cheeks still wet and sticky from my tears. Lovingly I coax him to orgasm, tongue caressing around and around his head with lazy, thick and sharp strokes. His fingers find my hair and his hand grips hard as he comes, bucking into my mouth and surprising me as he releases and groans. My scalp tingles as he releases my head. The tingles race down my spine to my wanting pussy, my aching bottom, my tender thighs…

Then comes…

Later, we share a can of soup for lunch. As lick my spoon clean I notice his cock bobbing slightly in his thin summer pants. Somehow I end up on it again, tongue working magic – the same thing yet so different this time. He grabs my hair harder as he comes, and it feels so good that my pussy responds by churning contentedly. There is a hunger – there always is – but for now it is sated.