The first chapter of this story can be found here.
Monday morning was agonizing.
Not only because I expected to see Brian behind every corner of the office, smirking and ready to turn me in to our boss for our little weekend escapade, but also because of the delicate purple bruises on my ass.
I had looked at them in the mirror on Sunday, running my fingers over my battered skin. I was horrified by the damage, but also strangely proud of those marks. A moan escaped my lips as I had remembered Brian bending me over my desk and making me ask for my spanking.
It had been humiliating, and it made me so wet. I brought myself to another climax after he had left, with his cum dripping down my thighs. Laying in bed that night, I blushed remembering it. I brought the heavy bed cover between my legs and squeezed, reveling in the delicious friction of the fabric against my needy sex. When my husband came to bed, I curled up against him, rubbing him like a cat in heat.
Thankfully it had been dark, and he couldn’t see the bruises. But every thrust that brought his hips smashing against my ass elicited a desperate little whimper. Pain and pleasure mixed in that hazy space in my brain, and I came, hot and wet, remembering the feel of the spoon against my skin.
No? Or please?
Please…
“Oh, baby,” my husband had whispered into my ear. “You’re so hot, baby. Yeah, just like that, fuck… you’re so wet…”
I had been too lost in my own orgasm to really absorb the discord between the voice I was imagining and the voice I was hearing.
In the darkness, it was all the same – all the same commanding, deep voice that brought me pain and pleasure and submission.
So I was a bit on edge all Monday morning.
“Martina.”
I could hear the smile in his voice, but it still seemed like I swiveled around in my chair very slowly, like in a horror movie. My pulse was in my throat, and I could feel my eyes widen. “Brian.” I let out a shaky breath, trying desperately to sound normal. “…Hi.”
“Hi.” He leaned against the partition of my cubicle and crossed his arms. An expression I didn’t have the mental energy to decipher crossed his face. “How was your weekend?”
I felt myself blush. How was my weekend?
“It was good. How was yours?”
Why were we playing this game?
“It was good, thanks. Had some time to work on hobbies, you know.”
I nodded, feeling my butt muscles clench. “That’s great.”
“Hey, listen. What are you doing for lunch today?” he asked, his face unreadable.
Fantasizing about being bent over my desk again and spanked, how about you?
“I don’t think I have any plans,” I said, willing the blush to fade.
“Good. Let me take you out. There’s this new place on Silver, really good red chile, I hear.”
The thought of being alone with him, even at a restaurant, made my insides flutter. Part of me felt like I shouldn’t go, but part of me ached for his… attention, again.
“Um, yeah, that sounds great,” I said, before I could convince myself otherwise. My blush was not fading.
Slut. Fucking slut.
“Great, I’ll drive. See you at noon.” He gave me an enigmatic half smile, and left.
I looked at my clock. 10:30. Fuck.
My cunt throbbed, and my ass ached. I wasn’t going to get any more work done this morning.
Ninety minutes later I was sitting in the cool air conditioning of his truck, as we idled at a stop light.
“Martina, we should talk about what happened on Saturday.” He took a deep breath.
I could feel my heart hammering my chest. “Okay.”
He turned to look at me. “I want to apologize.”
“Apologize?”
Wasn’t I the one who was naked from the waist down, spanking my own ass?
I watched his jaw work, as if he were thinking of the right thing to say.
“It was wrong, what I did. I’m sorry.” The light turned green, and we were moving again.
I didn’t know what to say to that. I wondered if this was my free ticket out of this conundrum. Maybe I should just take what he was offering, chalk it up to a one-off, and call it good.
I could go back to being a good, faithful wife and a diligent employee.
He hit a pothole and the truck bounced, sending waves of pain through my bruised ass. I moaned, before I could help myself.
No, I didn’t want to write it off.
It had felt good. It felt so good to take it, the pain and humiliation.
Even Brian’s thinly veiled threat of blackmail – which he seemed to try to be backtracking now – made me drip with desire. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this aroused.
No, I wasn’t going to do it.
“I don’t think you have anything to be sorry for,” I said.
We hit another red light, and he turned back to me. “I took advantage of you. … Whatever you were doing, I shouldn’t have done what I did.”
“No,” I said, as I felt the beginning of tears. “No, Brian. Stop, pull over. Let’s talk about this.”
He looked back to the road stoically, then brought the truck to a stop at a deserted park.
The silence between us was oppressive.
“Brian,” I said, finally.
He looked at me. The conflict was plain in his eyes.
“I liked what you did. A lot.”
He tightened his jaw, but said nothing.
I took a deep breath, knowing that I was about to take a step into the deep end. There’d be no going back after this. “I liked what you did. I haven’t been so fucking horny in years. It was so hot the way you…” I paused, blushing. “…The way you pushed me down onto my desk, and spanked me… It was totally hot. I thought about your… cum, dripping off of me, all weekend. Fuck, it was so hot. So don’t you go apologizing now, goddammit.”
My cheeks felt like they might burst into flames.
“But you’re married.”
“We didn’t fuck.”
Fucking slut. Lame excuse.
We sat again in the silence of the truck.
Finally, he blew a breath out. “Did you really like it?”
“Yes!” For fuck’s sake, yes!
He reached over and put his hand on my bare thigh, below where the hem of my dress fell. I moaned and felt my pussy drip.
“Do you want me to continue?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whispered, closing my eyes. Slut.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes… Sir.”
“Good girl.” His fingers traced up my inner thighs. “Then tell me how it felt to have my cum on your ass.”
I blushed and whimpered, trying not to squirm under his teasing touch. I spread my legs without thinking. “It made me feel… dirty.”
He moved to run a finger over my satin panties, a gentle pressure right down the center. “Come on, you can do better than that.”
“It made me feel… Mmm like a dirty, nasty little slut. Needy and desperate for a spanking… eager to wear your cum on my red ass…” My breath came in rapid, shallow intervals as he pushed me closer and closer to orgasm. “Like a little submissive cumslut. A pain slut. A humiliation slut.” Even saying the words out loud was hard, like the sounds kept getting caught in my throat..
“You are a submissive little slut, aren’t you?” he asked, pressing his finger against my clit.
“Yes, Sir,” I said, my voice wavering with need.
“Take off your panties, slut.”
I stopped breathing.
He laughed. “Or do you want to just go back to the office? I said I wasn’t going to fuck you, and I haven’t changed my mind.”
I scrambled to peel my panties down my bare legs, as I tried to hide my blush from him. As I slipped the little piece of fabric over my sandals, my pussy felt hot and bare.
“Look at me,” he said.
I turned my face toward his.
His eyes were dilated with desire. “You’re so beautiful when you blush.” He held my chin in his hand, and it was a possessive gesture. “I’m going to enjoy making you blush,” he said, with a smile that could have belonged to the devil himself.
“Yes please, Sir,” I whispered. “Yes.”
“Now hand me those panties.”
I gave him the little ball of damp fabric, and he brought it up to his nose.
“Delicious,” he said, taking in a long sniff, before shoving them in his pocket. “Now, I think we can still make it to the restaurant if we hurry.”
Oh fuck, what have I done?