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Spanking Story

So much is in the preparation. He knows I love it, so he milks my obedience for all it is worth. Every now and then he will ask me in the morning, before we both head off to work, if I've 'been naughty?' This alone sends me into a kind of subdued ecstasy. A simple phrase which holds such weight between us. That he would never ask me without ensuring that I have a full day of anticipation ahead of me is just part of his charm. I lie next to him under our sheets, and admit to him that yes, I have been naughty.
'Naughty enough to deserve a spanking, I'll bet?' he questions me, lightly.
'Yes Sir' I'll breathe out. 'I need you to spank me'
'Good kitten' he'll mutter, pulling me close to him. The first part of our slow, tantalising dance of seduction and desire begins. It is tradition now that he asks this question in the early morning, then takes me in his rough hands and holds me like his little child.
His strong hands find my bottom cheeks. Already my mind is screaming at him to let fly, to wallop my butt until it is red and sore. But my mind also knows that he has no intention of giving me what I desire so soon. His hands rub my buttocks. The pressure of these strong palms kneading and rubbing against my tiny butt is amazingly erotic. He is telling me that my bottom belongs to him, that these hands will be spanking me, be responsible for causing me great pain, in a matter of mere hours.
But he is clever. He doesn't spank me, doesn't even lightly pepper or even slap my greedy bottom in the morning. He rubs it, hard and meaningfully, lighting my senses and drawing all my attention to my posterior. When the implications of his actions are too great for me, and I feel myself beginning to rub my privates against his strong legs, he immediately removes his hands.
'You have to be good to me all day, kitten' he'll say, sternly 'So I know for sure that you're sorry for what you've done. I don't spank girls who don't want to be spanked. I need to know you're naughty, but you're smart enough to realise your mistake. If you're willing to show me that you're truly sorry, then go and make me some breakfast'
I am out of bed without another word. My pussy is tingling with desire, but I dare not touch it. This game of teasing and anticipation requires as much restraint and self-control from my end as it does from his. I know I am in for a long day. I make his breakfast, relishing in the opportunity to serve him. He deliberately leaves long gaps in between the days in which he tells me I will be spanked, forcing me to appreciate and love every second of the long wait between the beginning of our game, and the consummation of the act. I take care making him breakfast. I do my best to make the food tender and flavoursome. I spare no effort with presentation, but I dare not leave him waiting. When I bring it to him he is slow and deliberate as he eats it. He eases each mouthful down his throat, pausing to complement me on the taste. I always sleep naked, as does he, but these days are the only ones I will not shower and get dressed as soon as I am out of bed. I cook him breakfast completely naked. A reminder of my submission and debt to him. I sit on the edge of his bed in silence, hoping he will enjoy the breakfast I have made him.
'Lay my clothes out for me' he says, lazily but still firm.
Again my naked body flashes before him as I walk to our wardrobe. Our play has evolved from simple spankings to a full blown domination and control exercise. Once he realised just how much I enjoyed being turned over his knee and having my butt smacked, he realised how much he could use it to his advantage. Today, I am his servant. I think of the naughty things I may have done to deserve this spanking, and I grow more and more excited as I am requested to serve him. I lay out his clothes, and he stands to take a shower. I stand obediently outside the shower, still naked, with a towel in hand. He steps out, still wet, and I take the towel and dry his masculine body off. His broad shoulders, his muscles formed, but still hidden under layers of tight skin. His thick legs, his strong calves, and finally, his wonderful shaft and balls. He is careful about the time I spend on drying his body. He knows I love to play with his solid butt, however he will not allow this. He knows I would love to take his stiffening manhood in my mouth, but he denies me this pleasure as well. I help him to get dressed. My pussy is on fire and I do not know how I will get through the day. All I can think of is my body lying over his strong lap, my bottom raised and presented, his hands tanning me a deep shade of red.
'I'm going to work' he announces when he is dressed. 'You are to go and have a shower, then get dressed, and do the same. No touching yourself. If you touch yourself I will know that you are not truly ready to submit to me, and you will not be spanked tonight. I want all of your mind focused on the spanking you will be receiving from me. I want you to think about how badly your bottom will be aching, how red I am going to make it tonight'
His words tease me. His words excite and escalate my every thought. He knows I will not dare to play with myself. When this game first started, I lacked the self control to not submerge my tiny fingers into my wetness the second he had left for work. I would spend all day feeling guilty for breaking his rules, and when I finally told him, he would announce to me that I would not be spanked that night. All that anticipation, just for a let down, was too much to bear. He knows I will not dare play with myself. He leaves, and I shower. My bottom is tingling, as if those two fleshy pockets themselves are dreaming of the spanking that is coming. I dress in my business suit, but at his request, I will not wear my bra or panties to work today. The constant feel of the smooth linen rubbing against my nipples and my already excited pussy will remind me of what today means, all throughout my working hours. When I get to work there is already an e-mail waiting for me from him. Sometimes it will be a few short lines about my impending spanking. Sometimes it will be a request for something that I need to pick up on my way home in order to please him. One time it was completely blank, and I could imagine the smirk on his face as he imagined my disappointment in opening it. Today it is an e-mail with an attachment. The picture is of a woman standing in the corner with a bright red bottom. She is completely naked, but instantly I recognise the Australian beach scene painting that adorns our bedroom wall. The woman is me. I do not remember him taking this picture, no doubt it was done in secrecy with the express intention of shocking me with it later. It is of the last spanking, from our last day of play, that I received from him. The short phrase 'Tonight will be twice as red' leaps out at me, and I can feel the juices of my pussy melting into my trousers. All morning my mind will wander to thoughts of the punishment that awaits me. All morning I will imagine how his hand will feel, slapping my ready bottom. I almost cannot bear those few hours between now and then. Soon I will be enduring my spanking, soon I will be pleasuring him and thanking him for the hard spanks I yearn for. But I must work. He will call soon, and ask me what I have done today. He knows I will not lie to him. I will tell him truthfully how much I have achieved, and he will tell me whether or not he thinks this is sufficient enough to warrant his attention later tonight. Today I will work twice as hard, twice as fast. I will take no chances in being denied my spanking. If every day hung on the promise of a spanking, I am sure I would be infinitely more productive at work. He calls me, and I answer, breathlessly. I am made to describe exactly why I need this spanking, exactly how I am longing for it, exactly why I will do anything to persuade him to take me in hand. He will coyly suggest that I do not want it enough, but between my raging desire and the steadfast conviction in my voice, he will tell me that yes, I will be getting a spanking tonight.
The rest of the day will go in a blur. When I arrive home I will strip out of my work clothes, and I will hang them up. I will tidy our bedroom, completely naked, and I will get to work on making him dinner. When he comes home he will find me, completely naked, kneeling next to our front door. He will find his food, hot and waiting for him. His food is not the only thing under our roof that is hot and waiting. He will eat. I have already eaten, so there is no need for me to sit at the table. I will stand naked in a corner of our dining room, and he will silently watch my quivering buttocks, the small of my back rising and falling in time to my short, sharp breaths. When he is finished, I will clear the table and quickly wash his plates. I will leave no mess for tomorrow, not tonight. Then he will push his chair back from the table and invite me over his knee. This is the part I hate the most. We both know that my spanking is still a fair way off. And yet, he will still force me to submit to him and lie naked, across his lap. He will rub my bottom like he did this morning, but he will not strike it. He will put me into an unbearable state of longing, desperate for him to begin the spanking. When his rough hands have truly invigorated this sense of desire in my bottom cheeks, he will ask me to stand. My spanking has still not begun. I will get him a beer, and he will drink it, as I fall to my knees in front of him. He knows I do not like to perform on him in this position, but tonight I will do it readily. I unzip him, and take his growing shaft into my mouth. Eagerly but tenderly I will suck him, until his meat is erect and powerful. He will finish his beer, putting it down with a slow deliberation. Then he will sit down, perhaps on the lounge, perhaps back at his dinner chair. He will lift me gently underneath my armpits, and he will lead me to my position over his lap. He will ask again, if I require a spanking, and my tiny voice will squeak out that I do. By this point, my mind and my desires are no longer inhabiting planet Earth. The spanking will start off slow, but hard. It is always hard with him. His large hands will reign their powerful force all over my completely bare backside. And I will be in heaven. His stiff penis will rub against my thighs, reminding my gushing pussy of what is to come. His hand will focus on my thighs, shocking me at first with the pain, before my body gives way and lets the pressure and the anticipation built up inside me drain away, replaced by a feeling of absolute ecstasy and security. His spanks will come quicker, but if anything, their force is stronger, more direct. I will begin to yelp and wince from the pain, but he knows better then to slow down. His hands will cover the entire expanse of my backside, turning my pale skin into a fiery blistered surface. The spanking will continue. He delights in the fact that he has pushed me past the playful spanking stage. The act I have been longing for all day, the spanking I have been craving since his first words to me this morning, has now turned against me. I love the spanking, but it is now no longer just ecstasy I am feeling. My bottom is getting very sore. The pain will set in. The constant hits will not let up, and I will become more and more conscious of how terribly painful a proper bare bottom spanking can be. He will not let up. He will spank me until he hears me whimper, then spank me until I begin to cry out. My bottom will be getting redder and redder, my body growing limp against his stronger body, then flailing out when his hand hits a more sensitive area. He will spank me until I begin to vocalise my pain, telling him to stop, telling him I will be good. I can not see him, but I can feel his smile grow wide as he hears me so adamant that I want him to stop what I have so clearly desired all day.
He will smile as this source of my arousal goes beyond this, and begins to pain my tight and puckering bottom. He will spank me until I am crying, legs still kicking with every firm swat to my quivering backside, but unable to utter intelligible words. My speech will be a mixture of blubbering promises and garbled threats. He will hold me in place, and I will try to buck away from the onslaught of pain. I will not succeed in stopping the spanking. He will stop, but he will not rub my bottom. He wants me to feel the full extent of the spanking that I have for so long begged him to give to me. Then he will lift me up, and sit me on my knees in front of him. He will stand, and he will unzip his pants a second time. He will already be engorged, and my mind will be focused on the pain in my rear when I take him in my mouth for the second time today. But I will be good. I will give him what he desires. I will let my tongue run along his length, teasing and playing with his huge member.
He will not cum. He will wait until I am fully enjoying servicing him, completely given over to my position as his spanked servant. Then he will remove his penis from my mouth, leaving my tiny mouth gagging for more. He will ask me to stand and show him my bottom. I will stand, and turn to face him. He will take the sides of my cheeks in each hand and pull them apart, exposing my rosebud completely. Tears of shame and humiliation will well in my eyes, but I know that I need to submit to him fully and take my punishment. He will ask me to get the hairbrush. I will walk quickly, not because I am eager to receive it, but because I am eager for the upcoming spanking to be over. He knows I hate the brush. He knows I hate the pain it will cause on my already tender bottom. He knows that I will readily accept the spanking from him, without a hint of complaint or defiance. I will return with the brush, and hand it to him. He will take me again over his knee, slowly. I will jut my bottom up towards him, like an animal in the wild presenting to the superior mate. He will bring the brush down hard on the globes of my ass, and I will curse myself for having longed for this spanking. The brush spanking will be hard, and I will regret ever having asked him to spank me. I will promise myself that I will never put myself in this position again, promise myself that this pain is not worth the delicious anticipation that the day consisted of. I promise myself that tonight is the last time. Then he will continue. He will sense my pain, sense my shock from the sensation of the brush, and he will push through this. He will focus on the same spots, aiming again and again at the same areas on my bottom, knowing I will be wincing into my pants tomorrow. He will spank my upper thighs, until my body can fully submit to the spanking, push past the pain barrier. I will forget about the pain. I will become aware of the burning sensation in my ass, but it will not hurt me. I will thrust my bottom up higher, desperate for my violent attention. I will forget about the sound and the power of the brush smacking down against me, and I will be in ecstasy. I will grind myself against his lap, and I will love every second of the wicked hairbrush. I will think myself stupid for ever doubting that this could be one of my favourite sensations.
I will be his.
He will finish the hair brush spanking abruptly. He will place the brush to his side on the couch, or on the dinner table. He will stand me up, and he will look me in my tear-filled eyes, and I will feel loved. I will feel like a naughty little girl who has fully accepted her spanking. I will feel like a servant who would do anything to please her master. He will take me to bed, and the sex will be rough, powerful, immediate. He will carry me into the bedroom, tears still rolling down my cheeks, but unable to do anything but cherish the closeness of his body, and the security of his arms and his grip. He will lay me on the bed, lose his clothes, and enter me. I will come immediately, with him gripping my burning buttocks as a reminder of the purpose of today, of the sacrifice of waiting, and the searing pain I have endured. He will turn me over on my stomach, and he will enter me even harder, my moans heightened by his hard slaps to my buttocks from this position. He will see my bright red ass, the product of a day of anticipation and desire, and he will come, deep inside me. I will fall asleep in his arms, his long arms reaching down and curling around my spanked bottom. I will whisper 'I love you' and he will smile and say the same. He will ask me if I enjoyed my spanking, and I will nestle in even deeper towards him, trying to fuse our two bodies together. I will be spanked. And I will feel alive.