The first rays of morning filtered through the curtains, and a craving edged along my skin.
I rolled over, but his side of the bed was cool already; I headed out of the bedroom to find him on the big wraparound porch. He was sitting, watching the sunrise.
I ran my hand along his shoulders, feeling the cords of his muscles. “I need a spanking today, please.“
He turned and looked at me. “Is that so?”
I sucked on my bottom lip and try not to blush. I really did need it today. “Yes, please.”
“Show me where.“
The cool breeze skirted underneath my nightshirt, and sent goosebumps skittering over my torso. I looked out on to the miles of ranch land that stretched in front of our house, with little dots of sage brush and the variegated purple mountains on the horizon. The sky broke pink and lavender as the two of us stood and watched it.
I stepped in front of him and leaned over the porch’s railing, gathering my shirt around my waist and showing him the bare skin of my ass. “Here, please. Please mark my ass.“
He stood and cupped my cheeks before landing the first slap.
I moaned, but it wasn’t enough. “Please, yes,” I begged. “More, please.“
“More?“ He said, teasingly. “Greedy little thing today, aren’t we?”
A rain of smacks followed, each building with delicious intensity. The stinging built and grew each time he landed another slap, until I could feel the wetness on the inside of my thighs, dripping for him.
He paused to let me catch my breath, and the wooden banister dug into the softness of my torso, under my ribs.
My skin, under his ministrations, felt warm against the cool morning air.
“Is that enough?“
“No.“ I pushed myself toward him. “Please, no. I want more.“
I heard the porch wood creek under his movement behind me, and he murmured words, only half to himself. Slutty, needy.
I blushed, and I felt my pussy clench.
“How wet is this pussy going to be for me, if I touch it right now?“ he asked. He dragged a finger down between my cheeks, and I moaned.
“I don’t know.” My voice was hushed with need.
He made a noise like he didn’t believe me, and I drew in a sharp breath as his fingers traced over my overheated pussy. It felt good, but the craving for pain still buzzed along my nerves. “Please,“ I mewled.
“Please… what?“ he said.
I wiggled. “Please spank me!“
Tiny air currents tickled across my skin as he moved, and his hands gently spread my cheeks apart. “You’re oozing, my little slut.“
I shivered as I felt his tongue teasing against my most sensitive spot. “Please,“ I hissed. My whole vocabulary seemed to distill into that one word.
My fingers gripped the railing, my knuckles white with the effort. I could feel myself tumbling closer and closer to orgasm, despite myself and what I thought I needed this morning.
He always did this to me.
But then again, I couldn’t remember the last time that he actually let me cum. My legs began to tremble and my thoughts twisted; I didn’t know what to beg for anymore.
More? Less? …More?
“Please, I need a spanking! Please.” The seconds dilated, my thinking becoming as liquid as my legs, as he continued his gentle assault.
“You taste so good when you are so needy,“ he said, his voice low.
“Why don’t you run inside and get whatever tool you want me to use on you?“ He withdrew his tongue, and I mourned for the loss of it.
My breath shook, as I tried to regain some semblance of myself. I took a wobbling step back into the house.
I returned moments later carrying two things: the wide acrylic paddle, and the bamboo cane, holding both out for his inspection.
He looked at me appraisingly. “You really want me to hurt you today, don’t you?“
“Yes, Sir,“ I said, my skin eager with the need of it.
He nodded, taking the tools from my hand and placing a soft kiss to my forehead. “As my princess wishes.“
I leaned back against the railing, again gathering my nightshirt around my waist.
“Lose the shirt.” His voice has taken on a timbre of threat that immediately sent a wave of arousal coursing through my body.
I straightened out and pulled the shirt over my head, the breeze making my nipples pucker into hard little nubs. Even though I knew the closest neighbor was miles away, I still blushed to be completely nude outside.
The first stroke of the paddle surprised me, and I cried out, making a jackrabbit rustle out from his hiding place behind a scraggly mesquite. The feel of it was stinging and hot, and I bounced on the balls of my feet, trying to absorb the pain.
From then, the strokes came hard and fast, each with what I could only imagine was all the strength he could put into it. The rhythm was unhurried and reliable. In a way, even though the pain grew into an intense blistering fire on my skin, it was… a comfort.
it was like I could breathe for the first time that day.
The pain enveloped me like a hot pool, where the water got heavier and heavier. It was a comfort that each stroke came in measured timing and steady force. The rhythm of it was soothing, even as I began to cry, and then weep.
His strokes were nearly hypnotic, each new burst of agony dragging me deeper into that scorching pleasure. As the burning pain built and grew upon itself, even as I felt my tears stream down my face, my body relaxed. My breathing slowed. My muscles softened and accepted what he was giving me.
He paused, and he ran his fingers over my inflamed skin.
“No, don’t stop,“ I begged. “Please, don’t stop.“
“Just a break, princess,“ he said. “You’re pretty red. Are you sure you want the cane after this?“ His hands traced over my heated curves.
“Yes!“ I cried, arching my back. “Please.“
Needed more. This was exactly what I needed.
He made no move, and I wondered if he was going to accommodate me. “Turn around,“ he said. “Sit in the chair and spread your legs.“
I thought about what it would feel like to sit on the hard wood of the chair, with my freshly abused ass. Part of me wanted to whine, but more of me wanted to make it worse. I wanted him to make it worse.
I hissed as the cold wood make contact with my hot skin, and I spread my legs, one on each arm rest. My pussy was fully exposed to his hungry eyes.
He dropped to his knees in front of me, and I had a momentary thought that this was opposite of how things should’ve been.
Shouldn’t I be on my knees in front of him?
All my little thoughts evaporated, as his tongue made contact with my clit, circling and teasing the swollen little bud. I was so close — so very, very close. Hovering there on the edge — how did he always know exactly how much teasing to inflict, to keep me right there? — I didn’t know if I should beg to be allowed to cum, or beg for him to stop, or beg for more punishment.
“I love to see you drip after I spank you,“ he said. “Your slutty pussy just creams for me.“ His tongue flicked and grazed over my pussy, ratcheting my desire into almost madness.
My body shook and trembled, and I threw my head back, clenching my teeth. I could feel my eyes roll back in my head, torn between desperately wanting to cum, and wanting to hold it until he gave me permission.
“That’s my girl,“ he said. “That’s where I want you. Right on the edge for me, right there.” He stood up again and held his hand out to me. I barely registered that it was there in front of me, until he grabbed my hand and started to pull me up again. “Up over the railing again princess.”
My breath came in shallow little gasps as I bent myself to his whim. He tapped the wooden cane against my ass, lightly at first.
The first stroke was merciless, searing pain, concentrated into a thin line across my butt cheeks.
I gasped at the shock of it, and then screamed as the full force of the pain hit me a second later. He gave me only a breath to recover, before landing another stroke right below it.
My mind blanked. Sweet, blissful emptiness.
Another stroke crashed against me, and the pain radiated through the bones of my body. It swept my mind clean, flooding into every corner and crevice, leaving no space for anything else.
This. This is what I needed.
“How many, princess?” he asked, lining up his next stroke.
It was an outrageously difficult question. I tried to force myself to remember what numbers were, and their correct order.
He tapped the wood against the commissure of my ass and thighs. “Would you like me to decide?”
A dull panic jumbled inside my empty mind, feeling the cane against such a sensitive spot. “Please… yes,” I breathed. I bowed my spine to give him the target both of us wanted.
“Slut.” He spit the word, as he sliced another searing line against my skin. “You’re a nasty little pain slut, princess.”
Another and another followed, until my screams filled the open space before us. I didn’t count the strokes; I didn’t care the number. All I cared about — all I knew in that moment — was that he had decided. And that, in itself, was a comfort, too.
He paused. “More?”
“Maybe, please…” I started.
“Yes, princess?”
A wave of warm gratitude sluiced over my body. “Please let me suck you, and then we can decide.” My mind hummed happily, calmed now with the burning pain he had given me.
His smile was unmistakable in his voice. “As you wish.”
Photo by Klara Kulikova on Unsplash