Over the knee! Commanded, not asked.
Silently you approach, eyes bowed, flushed at the familiarity of what comes next.
It’s just time, I say.
Heavy breaths, you raise your skirt to reveal that peachy flesh.
Without a word you stretch, prone across me, seated, my arm outstretches and fastens you in place.
Your little sighs, revealing the remembrance of this position and place, like coming home.
Now it begins, your modesty ripped away and discarded.
The first, strike, jolts you, senses alert immediately to the pain, exquisite.
Calling out, its number, “Thank you Sir may I have another”.
Like sweet treats, the strikes repeated, excite you, you yearn for them feeling alive and in this moment.
Nothing else exists, just us two, again the jolt, 2, 3, 4, and more.
Repeated, again, and again, you warm to your position, crimson red blushes now appearing from all angles.
Relaxing, and releasing to his strength, his slow determined righteous beat, repeated.
“Thank you sir may I have another”.
Then at last the tears, the final cathartic release of your emotional burden.
He, your Sir, your Master has the key that set’s you free.
Shaking now, panting, your chest heaving, he slows.
Traces fingers along your legs, caresses those now ruddy globes, he feels the slick excitement between your thighs.
Your allowed to stand, composure regained you found your place.
The world has regained its order.
Delivered through a violent, tender loving caress.
Thank you Sir.