Yours

I sit curled up in an over stuffed armchair. My long dark hair pulled up in a messy ponytail, wearing an oversized cream jumper and light grey knee high socks. A book lays open against my thighs but I’m not reading it. Instead I’m watching you, seated at your desk, oblivious to everything but your laptop screen. On a clear day you can look out over a field of horses through the window your desk is in front of but today the horses, and field, are blurred from sight by the rain beating relentlessly against the glass.

I force my eyes back to the book, one you recommended from the vast collection that covers the walls of the room we sit in, but the words are as blurred as the view through the window. I feel restless. Unsettled. I can’t decide if it’s the weather or the constant light throbbing between my tights that’s putting me on edge.

I shove the book off my lap, watch it fall to the floor, hear the soft thud it makes as it lands on the carpet. It breaks your concentraten and you turn your head, glancing at the book then me. I catch your movement in the periphery of my sight but don’t make any sign I’ve noticed it. I keep my eyes on the book, pulling the sleeves of my jumper over my hands, fidgeting with them restlessly as you turn in your chair to face me. You stretch your long legs out and regard me in silence for a few moments.

“Come here.” your tone is firm, voice low.

I ignore you, fingers pulling and rolling the ends of my sleeps.

“I said come here.” your tone is harsher, voice still low.

I shift my legs, pulling them higher, almost as if trying to make myself smaller, making no move to go to you. You let out a small sight of frustration before standing up and crossing the floor till your towering over me.

“Look at me.”

There’s no mistake this for a request, it’s a direct order that I once again ignore, knowing full well the consequences my actions will likely have but feeling too stubborn to comply.

IFeel your hand wrap around my ponytail seconds before you use it to pull me to my feet, pulling my head back, tilting my face upwards to yours. I focus my eyes to the left, picking a spot just behind you, refusing to meet your stare.

“You’ve disobeyed me three times in less than five minutes, you know you have to be punished for that. But before we start maybe you’d like to Enlighten me about why your being like a petulant child today?” There’s no anger in your tone, it’s surprisingly calm considering my behavior and attitude, but I clnch my jaw tightly, refusing to answer, refusing to look at you.

You use my hair to lead me back across the room, back to your desk. You push me down roughly, pressing my chest against the smooth oak top, using Your foot to kick my legs apart, spreading them wide. You have one hand pressed against the small of my back, the other pulls my jumper up exposing my ass and pussy. Your voice is quiet when you speak again.

“Ten for each time you disobeyed, you will count them out, thanking me for each one. Each one you miss will be added to the final number.”

I close my eyes and wait for you to begin. The first blow strikes my right cheek hard and despite my best efforts not to, I flinch. You pause, giving me a chance to thank you and start the count but I stay silent. You wait a little longer then strike the left cheek, the sound of your hand meeting my ass filling the room. I bite my lip, this one was harder than the first but I stay silent.

This time your sight is one of resignation and you begin the spanking in earnest, pausing for a moment between each one, always giving me that chance but I refuse over and over. Tears form in my eyes, spinning over and running down my cheeks, unable to stay silent soft whimpers turn in to grosses that turn into sobs, the pain spreading through my body. I press my forehead against the cool wood, feel your hand begin to lightly stroke my back between blows, your voice soft, encouraging.

“You need to count baby, your ass is redder than I’ve ever seen it, but this doesn’t stop until you submit, all you have to do is count them out for me, I can do this all day.” You reinforce your words with a sharp blow directly against my pussy.

The words sink in through the haze of pain and I finally begin to count, submitting to your will, counting and Thanking you. Writhing beneath you with each blow, almost screaming as each connects with already burning flesh, sobbing uncontrollable.

By the time we reach thirty I’m shaking, legs weak. I vaguely register the sound of a drawer opening, something cool being rubbed gently into my hot bruised skin. You lift me from the desk, turning me towards you, sit down in your chair and position me on your lap, tighs spread over yours, you pull me close, my cheek resting against your chest. I can hear your heartbeat, slow and steady as your fingers gently trace my spine. I breath deep, drinking your scent in.

“How many days now?”

“Forty Six.” voice barely a whisper.

Your movements pause for a moment, then your lips press lightly on the top of my head. Both hands move to my shoulders pulling me back, away from you. One hand moves beneath my chin, tilts my head upwards and this time I meet your gaze. My eyes are red, face streaked with tears still, but all signs of resistance are gone. All that you can see now is how desperately I crave your touch. Your thumb brushes over both chefs, gently wiping the last tears from them.

“Our agreement was forty, you could have reminded me instead of having a tantrum and sulking” your voice is soft and kind.

I drop my eyes to your abs, knowing your right but unable to say it. Your hand slips down my front, brushing over my breast, fingertips dragging across my stomach and I watch as it disappears under the hem of my jumper, feel them lightly stroke my pussy lips and a shiver runs through my body.

“Is she wet for me?” You ask, even though you already know the answer and I nod in response.

Your middle finger brushes my clip, circles it slowly. The muscles in my thighs and stomach tighten and a soft groan escapes my lips. I feel it move to the entrance of my pussy, open, wet, aching for your touch.

“Soaked, she’s feeling a little negative isn’t she baby.” You press inwards, just the tip of your finger but it’s enough to make me cry out.

I shift on your lap, hips rocking, pressing down, trying to get you deeper. You drag your finger lightly back to my swollen clip, circled around it, teasing. You move back again, plunging two fingers deep, you twist in and out and I lean forwards, grabbing your shoulders and sinking lower in your lap.

You wrap your free hand around me, pulling me close again and a shudder runs through my body. I feel your breath warm against my ear. Your voice low and encouraging, a soft murmur…

“Not yet baby, hold it a little longer”

Your fingers slipfrom my pussy, moving back, touch light on my hot skin. I whimper, shifting against you when they brush the hot red skin on my ass, feel them run slowly along my ass crack brushing my tight asshole.

I bite down on my lip as they circle, pressing but never pushing inside, grazing back and forth, low moans escaping my lips, breathing deep and ragged. You can feel the muscles in my tights tighten, back arching as I try to control my body.

You pull me closer still, holding me tighter as you drag your fingers back to my pussy. They slip inside once more and begin to fuck me, slow and deep, you push in as far as you can then pull them almost all the way out again, over and over. The muscles in my stomach tighten, rippling with each slow thrust of your fingers. Pussy wet, hot.

I relax into you, closing my eyes, giving myself over to the sensings, there is only you. Your touch, your scent, your body holding mine. You sense the change and your movements become faster, fingerrs curling inside me, pressing against my g-spot, struggling the little bundle of nerves, your palm pressing against my clip.

“Who’s is this?” You ask quietly, lips against my ear as you force your fingers deeper with a hard sharp thrust.

“Your fingers twist deep inside of me and I cry out.

“Your fingers master.”

My fingers dig into your skin, whimpering, moaning as your fingers now fuck me hard and fast and I began to beg.

“Pleeeeeease let me cum, I can’t, I can’t hold it, please Master” and as I reach the point of no return, tears running down my cheeses again, I hear your voice once more, a low growl as you nip my earlobe.

“Cum for me.”

And I do. My back arches, pussy clenching tight on your fingers, drinking your hand as I cum hard and fast. You push hard and deep as each spasm runs through me, holding me tight.

“Good girl, let it out, give me everything”

I rock against you as orgasm after orgasm rolls through me, your hand moving in time, beginning to slow, bringing me down until I slump against you. Breathless, exhausted.

You let your fingers slip from me and I feel empty, until you bring your hand up and slip your fingers in my mouth, letting me taste myself, sucking your fingers clean before you gently turn my face up towards yours and press your lips against my forehead.

“That’s my good girl”

And I purr like a kitten, wrapped safely in your arms, spent and satisfied.