Don’t make me wait

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He sits on the edge of the bed and watches me as I dry my hair. He is already dressed, ready for the day ahead, in jeans and a shirt. I, on the other hand, am swaddled in my black fleece dressing gown, still pondering what clothes I will put on today. I know he is watching me. I know he is waiting. For a moment I am tempted to slow down, take a bit longer over my hair than usual but I banish the thought quickly. Playing games now will only make things worse.

“After our shower I am going to spank you” he had told me this morning as he handed me my coffee.

The temptation to reply with, “Oh are you now?”, bubbled through my mind making me grin.

“Something you want to share?” he had enquired

“Nope, nothing” I replied, which got me a “Hmmm” reply.

Now here we are, and he was waiting to make good on his earlier promise.

As I place the hairdryer back on the shelf he shifts back onto the bed. An innocent manoeuvre in some eyes but I know exactly what he has in mind now. As I turn to face him he pats his lap.

“Should I take my dressing gown off?”

“Undo it but leave it on”

It falls open the moment I untie the belt. He smiles up at me; it is a look of happy satisfaction with his choice.

“Now” he says and when I continue to hesitate he grabs my wrist and in one swift movement pulls me down across his lap. Shifting slightly he grasps the back of my neck and pins my head and shoulders to the bed. With his free hand he draws the back of my dressing gown up my legs and over my bottom, depositing the fabric across my back, leaving my bottom exposed. He makes a little sound as he tenderly passes his hand back and forth across my arse; not a sigh, not a groan, but a combination of the two that makes the muscles inside my cunt twitch.

The first strike comes, a stinging blow that makes me yelp and squirm. He pauses, only later do I discover that he is admiring the sight of one perfect red hand mark blooming on my bottom but I welcome the pause and the chance to gather myself before…

The chance is stolen from me as he applies a series of hard firm spanks across my arse, first one cheek and then the other. Scattering them around in no distinguishable pattern, making my mind jump and tumble, as the pain and the anticipation and the not knowing form into a tight knot of resistance that has me clenching my muscles and kicking my legs. He doesn’t stop though, but yet again his grip on the back of my neck tightens, it is both a warning and a reassurance. The sound of his hand meeting with my flesh fills the room and I focus in on that, searching and finding a rhythm in it that helps me to settle. The moment I do everything changes, where there was pain and struggle there is now just heat and noise. I am suddenly hyper aware of him, the feel of the coarse material of his jeans rubbing against my stomach and breasts, the impact of his hand sending jarring waves of stinging heat through my flesh. I am being spanked. I am being spanked. I am being spanked. There is nothing else but this.

Afterwards, when he is done, he trails his finger tips over the red-hot flesh of my bottom. Feather light touches that actually feel more like sandpaper than feathers. It is a sensation that I adore, that sore tenderness makes me wet. I want him to fuck me like this, with my bottom hot and raw, red and throbbing, so that each thrust reminds me of every stinging blow. I push my hips down into his lap. He laughs but I can feel he is hard.

“Please” I whimper

“No. Maybe later but not now”

And he lifts me off his lap and sits me on the bed next to him

“But why not?” I whine. “You are hard I could feel it”

“Do you know why I spanked you?” He asks

“Because you wanted to” I mumble back at him

Yes, because I wanted to, because I felt like it, because putting you over my knee makes you feel helpless and vulnerable and naughty and exposed and weak and most of all mine and now, making you wait, having you spend the rest of the day sitting on that sore bottom imaging what it is you want, will mean that when we finally go to bed and I offer you my lap again you won’t make the same mistake of keeping me waiting again.