Bad Girl, A Story
// May 26th, 2011 // Comments Off // Featured, Stories
She stands naked, feet comfortably apart so her legs don’t touch. Waiting. He usually starts sex standing up, so he can handle her all around. And so she is there. Vulnerable. Waiting. Coming from behind her, he slides one hand down and around to her belly, the other upward to the breast. His handling is sure and firm. He pulls her closer and kisses the nape of her neck, and she has a sense of being taken by the man despite first offering herself. His handling is gentle, reverent. It is always how he begins sex and one of the best ways he romances her. She watches as he worships her, turning to face her and lowering himself to his knees to smell and kiss her belly. Now running lips lightly over the downy hairs of her belly, a hand on her inner thigh, she is teased with the possibility that he will service her more thoroughly. He squeezes her thigh, reminding her of his presence, and begins to rub her leg. He is attentive, feeling the tension in her body, deciding if she needs it kinky today.
I had just told him my fantasies, and it was our first time playing with them. His finger slid slowly up and down the slit of my cunt, gliding over the glistening shean my body exuded, tacitly accusing. `It’s not my fault! I wanted to say. `It’s not my fault!’ His look is disapproving. Stern. “You are a bad girl, my Love. A very bad girl” he says. “You are wet.” There will be punishment. Of course.
Rising from his knees he took me by the hand and sat on the futon, pulling me around and laying me over his knee as for a spanking. But he did not spank me. Again he handled me, stroked me, relaxed me, aroused me, teased me. He moved my body, spreading my knees and raising my arms over my head, opening my body in all the ways a woman is supposed to keep private. Only when I am panting with desire does he check again for wetness. A slow, terrible test. I know I am failing it even as he fondles my sex, his fingers filthy with me. “Yes, a very bad girl.” The stroking is terrible. Knees wide, vulnerable. Soft, light strokes, a teasing, orgasm producing stroke. “Your cunt is wet.”
I felt my shame that day. The first time I ever really felt it. I felt my shame with every stroke of my sex, and with every slap of his hand. Not a hard slap. But it didn’t have to be. It was on my sex that he spanked me. “Stay still for it, my Love.” And he would take his hand off my sex. I learned that it would strike in moments, but I was paralyzed. I could only lay over his knee and accept the humiliation. Smack! His hand tapped me and the soaking wet lips of my sex made a loud slapping sound despite the gentleness of the spanking. “You are a bad girl. Your cunt is wet. You are a very bad girl.” He stroked me, expertly teasing my swollen clit, yet knowing when to go lower, preventing the orgasm. He spanked my cunt and slid up and down on it, reminding me of my shame. I knew I shouldn’t moan. If I was pleasured it would surely be proof that I was bad. But I could not withhold.
“Ohh.” His fingers teased. A quick slap elicited a gasp then another moan as I settled back down over his knees.
“You little slut, enjoying your punishment.” he said with just the right touch of derision. Yes, I felt my shame. And my orgasm was near.
He knows. The almost imperceptible tremble that rolled through her when he first touched her pussy is the sign. Taking her, he leads her to the futon and lays her over his knees, on her back. Pulling her legs up, he places her right leg on top of the futon, behind him, and holds her left thigh open and back with his left hand. Within moments she is transformed from a bad girl caught with her cunt wet to the ultimate position of vulnerability.
She will be cunt spanked, she has no doubt of that. Her wetness is inches from of his face, glistening and aromatic. He looks at it. She can’t hide it. “Your cunt is wet, my Love. You should be ashamed.” And the stroking starts. Coaxing the clit to swell, then avoiding it. She knows from long experience with his spankings that there is always warning before being spanked. One hand holds her, the other pleasures her. Always it is the hand that pleasures that also punishes. There can not be punishment unless that hand leaves her sex…
He lifts his hand. She tenses slightly, knowing that she will be punished with his next touch. “You are a bad girl. Your cunt is wet.” Slap! His hand stays on her, still for a few moments, then traces circles lightly, slowly, gauging how close to orgasm his beloved is. Then levitates. “You are a bad girl.” Slap! Insistently it repeats. Her legs held open, her cunt out for him to see, smell, and punish, dirty, terrible words spoken to her. Words about a woman’s role in sex and how a lady must act, and she is brought deeper and deeper into her helplessness until she is lost to the world. When finally she is about to cum with or without further stimulation he jams his finger up her ass and lifts her hips as he moves his mouth to her clit. His lips and tongue press into the hot wetness of her body, suckling the orgasm from her.
*****
`Oh God! I am lost! I am a bad girl! I’m naked! I’m wet! I’ve been caught! It’s up my ass! I’m so ashamed!
“PLEASE SIR, PLEASE DON’T SPANK ME THERE!”
I am pushed over the edge and I cum with more power than ever before. For minutes I moan, squirm, and throb as he holds me, controlling my hips with my asshole, mouth following my squirming sex, slipping and sliding over it. Sensitivity now acute, further stimulation is painful. Desperate now for him to stop, I hold still and spread wide, keening softly. He knows. He feels me spread myself and he knows it is time. He opens his mouth wide, lips forming a large O, and he holds this upon me, pleasantly stretching my sex as I throb untouched in his mouth.
Soon I remember that I’ve been bad, that he knows what I’ve done. He will surely inspect me again soon, and what will I say? A trembling begins in the depths of my gut, growing with strength. Submission now forgotten I draw my arms to my side as my hips buck faster and farther with every contraction. His mouth is sliding on me again and I explode, screaming without concern. His tongue orchestrates my gasps and screams…
*****
Again you spread. Your arms rise above your head, legs splay. You even tip your pelvis up to maximize my access. Just when you are terrified that I will continue, you hold yourself helpless to me. A well trained woman. Again I understand, and hold you quietly in my mouth, waiting for your recovery. Your clit ejaculates it’s nothingness into warm, moist air as my lips stretch you. We spend minutes like this as you calm. The trembling begins again…
*****
I never knew it could be like this…
“Spread.” You open your body and wait. Inspections are never hurried. First he checks your grooming. The shaved places. Under the arms. The lips of your pussy. Legs. Like a whore. His fingers approve of you. Everywhere they touch, they tease. He is there now, touching. Checking for wetness. A finger slides slowly up and down the slit of your cunt. He knows.
It’s time for your fucking.
This means drinking coffee now is a very humiliating protocol for me
