Crop

The Nooner

(At long last! A M/F spanking and sex story that has taken me months to complete. Based on true events though no names are used to protect the very obviously guilty.)

My new boyfriend had a great deal of flexibility in his schedule since he worked from home as a computer programmer. He took advantage of that freedom to shift his work schedule to his natural bio-rhythms, sleeping in until 11 a.m. or noon every day but working until late in the night. He had also just moved into a new apartment, one that he hadn’t had the opportunity to christen yet with a sexual partner.

I kept a more traditional 9-5 work schedule because of my career; I traveled between locations locally meeting with clients while doing my job. One particular Monday, I had several last-minute cancellations for the next day on my schedule that left me with a big block of open time in the middle of the day. My last appointment before the free time was not far from my boyfriend’s apartment. I looked at that opening and thought to myself that it had a great deal of potential for some mid-day fun, so I sent a text to my boyfriend asking him, “Any interest in a nooner to christen your place tomorrow?”

The reply quickly came back: “Um, yes? Is there any other answer to that question?”

I was already fairly certain that his response would be an affirmative, but I laughed at his incredible willingness. We sent a series of texts working out the details. I would show up on his doorstep at 11 the next day, ready and willing for whatever fun might arise.  Part of me was a bit nervous about this plan for one reason: since I had learned how to have incredibly pleasurable but also incredibly loud orgasms, I hadn’t had sex with a man who lived in multi-family housing. Thus, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to restrain my screams for the sake of the neighbors. Still, I wasn’t about to turn down this opportunity based on that fear.

The next day I found myself at his front door with a cloth grocery bag of sex toys. The crop wouldn’t quite fit in, but no one was really around outside so I wasn’t too worried about what the neighbors were seeing. As I knocked on the door, my boyfriend opened it to greet me with a kiss. He was as happy to see me as I was to see him. However, he was also in morning mode, and he was in need of his coffee. I kicked off my shoes and made myself at home on the family room couch while he went in pursuit of his heavenly nectar. He had just gotten out of the shower and was still waking up.

We chatted while he loaded the coffee pot, but we quickly began kissing again on his couch while his coffee brewed. I was quite happy to see him, and he seemed equally excited (ahem) by the prospect of what was happening between us. When the coffee finished, he stopped kissing me to go grab his cup and fill it. While I knew how much the coffee meant to him, I wasn’t really in the mood for him to take time to drink it. I wanted to have sex. Desperately.

When he returned to couch to drink his coffee, I pounced on him as soon as he set the mug safely on the side table. The few seconds he had been gone had been too long. My tongue was rapidly inside his coffee-flavored mouth, and his hands quickly moved to my hips as I slid my body onto his lap. He pulled me close and returned my kisses with his, letting his left hand wander up to my breasts amidst the passion.  After a few minutes of this intense interaction, my boyfriend pushed me away to give himself a bit of space to grab his mug and take a long drink. Then he turned back to me.

“I have morning wood we need to take care of. You seem like you’re ready to help me what that issue.” A big smile crossed my face. I was definitely ready to help relieve his erection. My boyfriend took one more gulp of his coffee and then lifted me up off the couch and led me toward his bedroom. As we got into the bedroom, he pulled me close again and put his hands on my cheeks. A gentle kiss was followed by more sex talk.

“I want to make you cum,” he said emphatically, “but until we deal with this morning wood, I can’t think about anything else. You’re going to have to help me before I can help you.” With many men, I would think this was a line to get his and then leave me hanging. However, I knew my boyfriend was good to his word. He loved making me cum. He truly needed release, and I was more than ok with that. I put my arms around his shoulders, kissed him again, and then nodded my consent.

With that, my boyfriend couldn’t wait any longer. He began taking off his clothing while I removed mine in a rapid fashion. This wasn’t a sensuous undressing. It was desperation and desire. The goal was to be naked with our bodies pressed together as soon as possible. It only took a few seconds before we had achieved that goal, our lips and tongues again touching while my hands stroked his now naked cock that was definitely as hard as he had promised it would be.

Meanwhile, my boyfriend fumbled around on the nightstand, trying to find the condom and lube while still kissing me. He finally gave up at multitasking, pushing me onto the bed and onto my back. He opened the condom and slipped it on skillfully, squirting some lube onto it and then ordering me to spread my legs so he could put some lube on my pussy as well. I happily complied. Now prepared for what he truly wanted to do, my boyfriend slipped his sheathed cock inside my pussy, and I wrapped my legs around his legs. Missionary is one of the worst positions for me in terms of cumming, but I still love it for the intimacy it provides while watching my lover reach his climax. My partner knew that, and he was happy to put on a show for me as he worked through the motions of reaching orgasm, thrusting and pounding inside me, moaning louder and louder as he finally released his load. When he collapsed on top of me in exhaustion and relief, I ran my hands through his long hair and held him close, listening to his breathing and feeling his sweat on his body. I loved the feeling of my man lying on my body post-orgasm.

Eventually, he regained his wits, and my boyfriend scooted off of me onto the bed with a smile. He removed the condom and put it on a tissue on the nightstand, and then moved back to me to kiss me and pull me close, both of us laying on our sides and facing each other. Now that the animalistic fucking was out of the way, the sex could finally begin between us.

Among the toys that my boyfriend was anxious to use that day was an underbed bondage set. He had bought it since his headboard wasn’t bondage friendly but he very much wanted to include bondage in his bedroom. He had already installed the straps under the mattress and had the cuffs waiting for my wrists and ankles. He gave my bottom a smack and ordered me, “Roll over on your stomach in the center of the bed so that I can tie you up and give you the spanking you deserve for being such a naughty girl and having sex with your boyfriend in the middle of a work day.”

Eager to comply, I placed a pillow on the center of the bed, and then I moved onto my stomach over the pillow while he stood next to the bed. He started with my right wrist, securing the hand in the restraint. He progressed down to the right ankle, binding it tightly as well. Next, my boyfriend scooted around the king-sized bed, cinching up my left ankle and finally immobilizing me completely by putting my leftt wrist into the restraint. I tried to wiggle, but he had me very tightly bound which is exactly what he wanted. He then pulled on my ponytail, forcing my eyes to look into his.

“You’re now totally under my command. You have no choice but to submit to what I’m going to do to you.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I replied. He was right. At this point, I was his willing prisoner, anxious to see what he had in mind for our kinky fuckery that day.

He didn’t keep me waiting long as he released my hair and then grabbed a blindfold from his nightstand which he slipped over my eyes. Now I couldn’t move and I couldn’t see. The kinky suspense was building, and I was loving every minute of it. He traced his hands down my back and onto my bottom where he gently caressed my naked globes, his fingers meandering closer and closer to my asshole. He had a fondness for sticking his fingers in my ass without warning, an action I loved but that was not to be this time. Instead, he slapped my bottom briskly and then moved off the bed.

I could hear him rustling around in the shopping bag I had brought. What was he looking for? He’d given me a very specific list of things to bring that included his favorite toys of mine including that damn riding crop which I hated but he loved. Still, I was his submissive, and I was going to do what he asked of me, so I brought the crop. The noises from the bag stopped, and then I heard the lid pop open on the lube that was already on his nightstand. Since he had thoroughly lubed up my pussy earlier before he fucked it, I knew that could mean only one thing: he was about to insert the large butt plug I had brought along.

Sure enough, I felt the cold lube dripping down my crack as my boyfriend whispered in my ear, “Are you ready to take the butt plug like a good girl, Little One?”

“Yes, sir. Please put the butt plug in my naughty ass,” was my desperate reply. I loved having the butt plug inserted, and he knew it. It was a power trip for him to use my ass however he wanted, but he also got off on knowing that I wanted him to use me anally. Slowly I felt the very cold glass pressing into my ass, slipping gently in until it hit the point of resistance. Then, suddenly, there was the painful pop that always made me moan from a combination of pain and pleasure as the plug moved past my sphincter and all the way into my bottom. I tried to wiggle a bit as my boyfriend adjusted the plug to his liking, but there was no hope. He had me cinched tightly, so the wiggling of my bottom was all I could accomplish. My boyfriend took that as a sign that he needed to start spanking me.

“Hold still!” Daddy commanded as he smacked each side of my butt with his bare hand.

“Ow!” I responded to his sharp and unexpected spanks.

“Well,” he said, “If you’re not a cooperative little girl, then Daddy is going to spank you for not behaving. You should know this by now.”

I sighed. “Yes, Daddy,” and with that verbal acceptance, my boyfriend continued the spanking he had started. He was peppering my bottom thoroughly with spanks from his strong hand, occasionally letting the spanks fall onto my upper thighs which he knew was a turn on for me. As he spanked, I tried to hold still, but I was wiggling a bit. A girl can’t help it when her Daddy is reddening her bottom!

“Ok, Little One, I think you’ve had enough of a warm up. It’s time to punish you for having mid-day sex with your boyfriend like a naughty little slut,” he informed me.

“You do realize the irony of you spanking me for that…” I pointed out. He responded with a smack from an implement which elicited a yelp from me in return.

“Yes, but I’m not worried about logic at this point,” he said. “I’m more concerned with punishing your naughty bottom. Now tell me what it is I’m using on your bottom right now,” he commanded as he gave me several more swats.

“That’s the wooden hairbrush,” I replied.

“Correct!” He rewarded my answer with several more smacks of the hairbrush scattered around my bottom and thighs which more than got my attention.

“Daddy, I’ll be good,” I began promising.

“I very much doubt that!” he stated as he continued spanking. “This was your idea to come over here like a naughty girl and have sex with me in the middle of the day. That’s not the sign of a girl who plans to behave!”

“Ok, true,” I agreed with a laugh. “But I promise I’ll only misbehave with you, Daddy!”

“I’m ok with that,” he chuckled, “But I’m still going to keep spanking you.” And true to his word, I got several more swats with the hairbrush before I heard its wood clank against the nightstand when he set it down. However, I was certain that I wasn’t free from being spanked. Sure enough, another implement soon hit my tender bottom.

“Ouch!” I cried out. I heard my boyfriend chuckling with sadistic pleasure. He enjoyed spanking me every bit as much as I like having him spank me.

“So what am I using on your ass now, Little Girl?” he asked.

“The small leather paddle,” I replied.

“Correct!” he responded, and he rewarded my correct answer with a series of swats moving up one side and down the other of my bottom and legs.

“Daddy,” I began begging again, “I don’t think you need to spank me anymore.”

Suddenly the spanking stopped and I felt him jerk my head upward using my ponytail as a handle. He began talking directly into my ear.

“Who gets to decide when your spanking is finished?” he asked.

“You do, Daddy,” I replied with a semi-defiant sigh which was rewarded by a crack of the paddle on my ass while his other hand continued pulling my head back by its ponytail.

“That’s right, young lady,” he said, “And I am definitely not done spanking you yet. I am also not done fucking you either.”

With that, he released my head. I heard him putting down the paddle and picking up his next choice for torturing me. He began running it up and down my spine, moving past the butt plug and onto my pussy.

“That’s the damn crop!” I said even before he asked me.

“Correct again!” he replied, rewarding my unrequested answer with a sharp crack of the crop on my sit spot.

“OUCH!” I hollered out, and he laughed at my pain.

“It’s always so much fun to crop you,” he added. “So little work on my part and so much screaming on yours.”

I continued yelping and he continued randomly striking my bottom and thighs with the crop. Because he had my legs tightly stretched and bound, that meant the sensitive insides of my thighs were easily accessible with the crop, a situation he was happy to take advantage of. After quite a few targeted slaps to this most sensitive zone, I finally heard the crop set down on the nightstand.

“I’m ready to fuck you again,” he stated factually. “I’m going to loosen your legs so that you can get up on your knees with your butt in the air. I’m going fuck you from behind while your face is in the bed and your pussy is spread and open just for me.”

With that, he did as he had promised, loosening up the leg restraints just enough for me to get on my knees but not to move an inch more. I wasn’t going to be going anywhere he didn’t want me. I still had the blindfold on, a butt plug up my ass, a red bottom, and a very wet pussy. After getting me in the position he wanted me in, I heard him opening another condom from off of the nightstand, and then I assumed he was slipping it on his cock which was likely rock hard again after all of the kinky foreplay.

I felt the bed shift as he climbed back onto it. The next thing I knew, he was pulling the butt plug out of my ass. From previous sessions, he knew it was too uncomfortable for me when he vaginally fucked me in this position while the glass butt plug was still in, and pain was not the goal at this point. Instead, my boyfriend now wanted me to experience pure pleasure.

It didn’t take long for him to accomplish his goal. He plunged his cock deep into my wet pussy which caused me to call out loudly, “Oh, Daddy!” He laughed at my response, and he took it as a sign that I wanted more of the same. He continued thrusting his cock in and out of me, quickly causing my moans to get very loud. He already had me so aroused that it wasn’t going to take long before I burst into orgasm. With a few more powerful thrusts, I reached that point, screaming out, “Daddy! Oh, Daddy!” as I came. I tried to let my knees drop after the orgasm, but he stopped me with a sharp smack from his hand on my already reddened bottom.

“Did I tell you that you could change position?” he demanded.

“No, Daddy,” I truthfully responded.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to punish you for that, too,” he retorted, as if that wasn’t already part of his evil plan. I felt his still hard cock slipping out of my pussy, the arousal fluid and remaining lube dripping down my legs. My boyfriend stepped off the bed again, this time moving up to my right hand. He loosened the restraints on my wrist just enough for me to prop myself up; he repeated the same action on my left hand, too. I was now on my hands and knees with my red butt in the air and my blindfolded eyes facing the headboard. The only question was what he had planned next.

I soon found out as the mini-floggers came down on my bottom. I had one and he had one, so he liked putting one mini-flogger in each hand and thrashing my bottom with both, using one after the other in a rhythmic beating. He always started slowly, building up the pain and pleasure from the floggers’ bites. He was very good at using those floggers on me, better than anyone else who had ever tried. I was soon moaning both from pleasure and stinging pain as he repeatedly struck my sore ass, turning me on even more than I already was.

Suddenly, the flogging on my bottom stopped. Out of nowhere, he began flogging my shoulders. This was new and completely unexpected. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Did I like it? Did I not? Once the shock of the novelty wore off, I decided that I preferred him flogging my ass, but the flogging of my shoulders made an interesting alternative. I requested, “Daddy, please flog my ass more,” and he happily complied, striking my bottom in rhythm with the music he had playing in the background.

When he could tell I was getting close to my breaking point, my boyfriend stopped the flogging. He dropped the implements on the bed, and then his hands began caressing my ass, a feeling I truly loved. His strong hands on my stinging ass were truly a treat. But he still wasn’t done with me. I felt him moving behind me once again, and then his cock suddenly plunged in my ass which was already lubed and waiting because of the butt plug I had been wearing earlier.

After all of the intense spanking foreplay, the anal sex was powerful in a way I had never experienced. I quickly began screaming with pleasure, “Oh God, Oh God, OH GOD!” as his cock pounded in and out of my ass, his abdomen slamming against my tender cheeks. I could tell my screams were only turning him on more, as he began pounding even harder and faster, bringing me to the brink of orgasm and then finally pushing me over in one of the most powerful orgasms I have ever had. As I came, I kept screaming, “Daddy! Oh God, Daddy!” The orgasm seemed like it went on for half of forever, and my pleasure pushed my boyfriend over the edge. I could hear his moans building until suddenly, he too found release. His body stiffened as his load released in my ass. We both held still for a few minutes until collapse seemed like the only option for us.

He released one of my legs and one of my arms from the restraints so I could lay on my side; he cuddled up behind me with his arm over my sweating and satisfied body. His heavy breathing was on my neck which his lips also gently brushed. I took off the blindfold and snuggled up closer to him, feeling his exhausted body pressing against mine.

One we had both recovered from the amazing orgasms we had just shared with each other, my boyfriend quipped, “I guess all the neighbors now know that my name is either Daddy or God.”

“Oh, God!” I exclaimed once again. “I was so lost in the play that I completely forgot we were in an apartment complex. I’m so sorry I was screaming so loudly.”

He laughed loudly and said, “Hey, remember? I’m an exhibitionist. I’m totally proud of the fact that my neighbors now know I can make a woman cum so hard that she screams the way you did.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” I giggled. I used my free hand to release my other hand, and then I released my one remaining restrained ankle. I rolled over so I could nuzzle my lover and kiss his lips again. My hands went to his beard, caressing and touching it with gratitude and pleasure after all we’d just shared.

Eventually we accepted that we needed to get on with our day, no matter how lovely the “nooner” had been. Four hours after I arrived and really needing to head to my last appointment of the day, I was finally leaving his place from what was supposed to be a one or two-hour fuck session. Considering our first time in bed together had lasted eight hours, we clearly were not  a couple for quickies. Even on the way out the door, we still had our hands and lips all over each other.

As I stepped onto the front porch, I turned back and put my arms around my lover’s shoulders. I gave him a deep kiss, and he returned the kiss. Something felt wrong, though. It took me a couple of kisses before I realized what it was.

“I’m not wearing any shoes,” I suddenly said to my boyfriend.

He looked down at my feet. “No, you’re not,” he laughed. “Maybe you should come back in and fix that problem.” And so I came back in his apartment, slipped on the shoes I had kicked off by the door on the way in, and headed back out the door for a second goodbye.

“You know it was a really great session when your boyfriend fucks you so well that forget to put on your shoes when you leave,” I said as I smiled and laughed. With that, I gave him one final kiss and headed back to my car with my bag of sex toys to face the real world again.

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

I’m in Charge

(F/M, spanking, crop, humiliation, CBT, paddle, nipple torture, hairbrush, clothespins, school memories, voyeurism)

Note: This story involves non-consensual activity, something I do not condone in real life. However, the story is pure fantasy and one that was a great release for me to write as I dealt with some political frustrations of late.

As I walked up to the door at the big white house, the butler’s eyebrows raised at my appearance. I thought I looked great, but perhaps I hadn’t toned it down quite enough for the vanillas. I was a vision in royal blue. My skirt was a tight and lacy yet lined A-line which hit a few inches above my knees. I had on a blue leather bra, but I had put on a sheer blue blouse over it for a little bit of modesty. My blue fishnet stockings and blue stilettos somewhat covered my legs and feet. I wore a lace blue choker necklace, and my hair was upswept into a loose bun. It would have been a marginally professional outfit appropriate for business wear had it been a little less revealing. I also carried a large duffel bag which carried the tools of my trade.

“I’m here to see Donnie,” I informed the butler as he looked me up and down.

“And whom may I say is requesting the honor of his presence?” the butler inquired.

“Tell him Lacey is here to play. His Uncle Steve sent me to change his attitude a bit,” I replied as covertly as I could. I didn’t think the butler really wanted to know I was there to beat his boss’ ass, but I wanted Donnie to start quaking in anticipation of what he had coming. I had played with Donnie once before, and he was a very whiny, very needy type of boy-man who deserved to be put in his place, a job I was happy to do. Getting paid for it was nothing but a bonus.

The butler showed me into a parlor off the main hallway where I knew I was to wait until I had been cleared for entering Donnie’s private quarters. The room was nicely decorated, and on the coffee table were magazines which had Donnie’s portrait on the cover. Not all of them were recent, but I knew Donnie’s ego dictated that nothing but magazines with flattering articles about him should fill his home. He had an image he wanted to convey to his guests, one of power and success as a corporate CEO. I didn’t buy it for a minute. I’d seen the true man, and I knew the real story of whom he was.

After a few minutes, the butler returned. “You may follow me upstairs,” he let me know. I remembered the way, but I knew protocol dictated that I follow him. We climbed a regal staircase and walked down a red carpet hallway lined with giant portraits of the previous occupants hanging on the walls. As I looked on the faces of honorable men from the past, I shook my head in bemusement. How had Donnie managed to descend from this lot?

As we approached Donnie’s private quarters, the butler gestured toward the two security guards standing at attention. I recognized one from my previous visit and knew he was the senior of the two. The other man was a stranger, but that didn’t surprise me. Donnie was the kind of man who had a frequent turnover in his staff because he was so difficult to please, or so rumor said.

I approached the senior guard and gave him my bag to inspect. It had been quite a process getting in with my toys the previous time I was here, but this visit I knew would go much smoother since the guard knew what to expect. As he opened my bag, he found paddles, a strap, a crop, a butt plug, nipple clamps, and a few other delightful toys. The guard smiled and nodded with approval as he dug through the bag. The only compromise we’d had to make last time was that I was not allowed to take my handcuffs or rope into the room. This time, I didn’t even bring them.

“Would either of you gentlemen like earplugs?” I asked.

“No, ma’am. We plan to enjoy this, if you don’t mind,” the senior security guard replied. His junior was looking very confused by this point since he hadn’t seen what was inside the bag, but I knew he would soon be enlightened. I laughed in response. Working for Donnie probably wasn’t a fun job, so I could imagine how hearing him suffering at my sadistic hand might be truly delightful for his guards.

“But of course,” I responded with a smile. “I’m always happy to have an audience listening in. Would either of you want to be an actual witness at some point?”

“Oh, ma’am,” the senior guard said, almost breath-taken, “You don’t know what an honor that would be. We’d be happy to witness.”

“What did you just sign me up for?” the junior guard asked.

“Just wait,” his superior said. “It will be well worth it.”

With that, I smiled at the senior guard, reclaimed my bag, and knocked on the door to enter Donnie’s room.

“Come in,” Donnie called in a hesitant voice. Good. He was already nervous. He should be. It took a lot to break him last time. I was hoping he had remembered some of his lessons, but I suspected that his ego was going to try to fight me again.

“Hello, Donnie,” I greeted him as I entered the room.

“Hello, Lacey,” he replied as he walked toward me.

“STOP!” I commanded. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m coming over to greet you,” Donnie casually replied.

“I don’t think so, Donnie,” I retorted. “We ‘discussed’ this last time, and that discussion involved a harsh beating of your ass if you remember correctly.”

“Oh,” Donnie meekly said. He began whining at me, “But I didn’t think that meant I had to do it every time I saw you.”

“Oh, little boy,” I replied. “You are very mistaken on that one. When I am in your rooms, I am in charge. You will submit to me, and you will do it willingly…”

“But I’m in charge!” Donnie whined again.

“Like hell you are!” I replied. “The sooner you accept that I am in charge of you in the bedroom and that your Uncle Steve is in charge of you in the corporate realm, the easier your life will be. Now, would you like to try that entrance again or will we have to repeat the very intense beating you got last time for disrespecting me?”

Donnie looked rather miserable at this point. His ego was still struggling. I could see him debating whether he should fight me on this or not. He might weigh twice as much as me, but that wouldn’t stop me from being able to physically dominate him, and he knew it. His ass had been a very lovely shade of purple when I said goodbye to him the last time, and I knew he felt that beating for many days afterward. I suspected he was debating in his head whether or not I would really repeat that performance again. To make my point, I pulled a hairbrush out of my bag and smacked it against my hand. His eyes got quite wide in response to my gesture.

“No, Lacey,” he replied. “I’d rather not have a purple backside again.”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Donnie,” I sharply retorted. “You WILL address me as Mistress Lacey, Mistress, or Ma’am. If you don’t, you will pay for your disobedience. Now, please try that again.”

“No, Mistress Lacey,” he corrected himself, “I don’t want a purple backside again.”

“Excellent choice, Donnie,” I replied, “Because you are still going to have a very red backside for all the ways you’ve been disobedient since I last saw you.”

“But…” Donnie began whining. I slapped the hairbrush on my hand again and shot Donnie my best “if looks could kill” glare. He stepped backward, instinctively covered his bottom with his hands, looked down at the floor, and meekly replied, “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good boy, Donnie,” I responded. “Now, I am going to walk out into the hallway and have a little chat with your guards for a few minutes. When I come back in, I expect you to be dressed and positioned as we discussed last time.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Donnie sighed submissively. I decided to let that bit of attitude go for the moment. I’d be correcting him for it soon enough.

I stepped out in the hallway with my hairbrush still in my hand and shut the door to Donnie’s room. The senior guard had a huge smile on his face.

“How is it going, ma’am?” he asked.

“Fine, thank you. Donnie just needs a moment or two to prepare,” I said.

“Are you doing his hair?” the junior guard inquired while staring at the hairbrush in my hand. “I had heard he didn’t let anyone touch his hair besides his barber.”

I laughed. Donnie’s hair really could use a woman’s touch, but I was not up to that task. “No, that’s not what I plan to do with this hairbrush,” I replied. The guard looked confused.

“Are you telling me that when you were a little boy your mother never put a hairbrush to good use on another part of you besides your hair?” I asked him.

“Oh!” he said, his face reddening. I could see the lights going off in his head. “So, you’re a…”

“Professional dominatrix,” I finished the sentence for him so that he didn’t accidentally say something inappropriate. “Yes, I am, and I’m quite a good one. Donnie’s Uncle Steve has hired me to come on a weekly basis to keep Donnie in line. I’ve been here once before, and Uncle Steve found Donnie much easier to control after I’d given him a good dose of discipline.”

“Oh,” the guard said again. “So when Joe said we’d be happy to witness, he meant…”

“That you would be happy to watch me give your boss a bare bottom ass licking,” I finished his sentence. A smile unlike any I’d seen from any of the staff at the big white house broke across his face.

“Wow!” he said. “Yes, I would definitely be happy to witness that. I’ve only been on the job for a few days, but still, I wouldn’t mind seeing him in a submissive position.”

“Well, wait a little bit, and I’ll call you in. Naughty schoolboys often need a witness when the principal paddles them at school, so I don’t see why it should be any different for a big boy,” I responded with humor in my voice. “Now, time for me to see if that naughty boy has followed my orders,” I stated as I opened the door and walked back into Donnie’s room. I closed the door, but not quite all the way. I wanted to make sure the guards got to hear as much as possible.

When I walked back in the room, I was greeted by the back view of Donnie wearing his tighty-whities and nothing else.  “Donnie” was even embroidered into the waistband of the briefs. Donnie was standing in the corner of the room with his hands on his head. This was a vast improvement to the way I had been greeted the first time I entered the room when he was still in his suit and tie.

“Good boy, Donnie,” I replied. “I am glad to see you remember how I expect to find you. And what exactly have you been thinking about while you were in the corner waiting for me to come in?” I asked him. By this time, I had walked up behind him, so I took advantage of the hairbrush in my hand, dragging it firmly across his bottom so that he knew I was prepared to punish an unacceptable answer.

“I’ve been thinking about how you are going to spank my bottom, Lacey,” he replied.

CRACK! Donnie let out a loud howl as my hairbrush very sharply and fiercely came down on his bottom. His briefs really weren’t much protection against my muscular swing, though I was sure he was grateful to still be wearing them.

“What did you do wrong, Donnie?” I asked sternly.

“I forgot to call you Mistress,” Donnie quickly responded, worried that his bottom was going to be spanked again. He was right on that account. He just didn’t know when the next swat would come.

“I’m glad you recognized part of what you did wrong,” I replied, “but that wasn’t your only error.” With that pronouncement, I gave Donnie’s covered bottom a series of five very quick, very hard spanks in one place which led Donnie to let out another howl. He was such a baby when it came to taking his spankings unlike most men who tried to stoically hide their pain for as long as possible. I continued to lecture him while randomly swatting his bottom at a slower pace, “You were supposed to be thinking about what a naughty boy you’ve been since I was last here and why your Uncle Steve had to call me to come discipline you again. You must be acting like quite the naughty boy from how disgruntled he was on my voicemail. He said that you have been using social media too much and working too little. He also said you haven’t been following his orders well at all. He wanted me to spank your negative attitude and your stubbornness out of you, and that’s a task I’m more than happy to do for the good of your entire staff.”

I could tell that Donnie was as displeased about my lecture as he was about the continued bites from my hairbrush. He so desperately wanted to be in charge at work, but he just wasn’t ready yet. His immaturity came through in his behavior. Despite his inherited title as CEO, he wasn’t the one who really ran the company. His Uncle Steve ran the show, and he was definitely right in thinking that the best way to handle a spoiled brat like Donnie was to spank some obedience into him. Donnie might not physically be a little boy anymore, but he sure acted like one.

I decided that it was time to increase Donnie’s humiliation. “Turn around,” I commanded, “But don’t take your hands off of your head. As Donnie did so, I could see the frustration and struggle in his eyes. When I was done spanking him, those emotions would be replaced with submission and acceptance. But for now, it was time to start with a bit of humiliation. I set my brush on the bureau next to me and turned backed to Donnie. I quickly pulled on both side of Donnie’s briefs, and they fell to the floor. As I expected, Donnie began to protest this treatment.

“You can’t do that to me,” he said, removing his hands from his head to cover his cock and balls. “I won’t stand for it.”

“Oh, yes I can, Donnie,” I reprimanded him. “And you just earned yourself quite a bit more punishment for both talking back to me and taking your hands off your head. Now, get back into position and shut your mouth unless you want to make this any worse for yourself.”

Donnie looked at me. He knew I wasn’t kidding. He sighed and put his hands back on his head. That sighing nonsense was going to have to stop, but one step at a time. I walked over to my bag and pulled out a handful of clothespins along with nipple clamps.

“What are those?” Donnie asked with trepidation as I approached him.

“’What are those, Mistress?’” I responded.

“Oh. Yeah. What are those, Mistress?” Donnie corrected himself.

“’Those’ are some devices for me to help adjust your attitude. I dropped the clothespins on the bureau but brought the nipple clamps with me to Donnie’s bare chest. His eyes got a bit wider as he saw me open them and approach his own delicate nipples.

“I don’t think I want you to use those on me,” he whined at me.

“Too bad,” I replied without a bit of remorse. “You made your decisions to accept whatever punishment I dealt out when you chose not to follow my orders to keep your hands on your head and address me properly. I am going to teach you to follow instructions no matter how much pain it causes you.” With that, I let the one clamp bite into his nipple. He winced at the pain. “Oh, little boy,” I reacted, “Just you wait for what’s coming next.” I latched the other clamp onto his free nipple and then sadistically turned the clamp as hard as I could. Donnie nearly jumped out of his skin as he screamed in pain. His hands started to come off of his head, but he quickly put them back. He was figuring out he couldn’t afford to disobey anymore. His punishment was already going to be harsh enough.

I grabbed the clothespins off of the bureau next. Donnie grimaced and asked hesitantly, “Please, Mistress, Ma’am, what are you going to do with those?”

“I am going to put them on your ballsack,” I replied. “And you should be aware that they twist just as well as the nipple clamps do so you better be on your best behavior. Now, spread your legs for me.”

I could tell that Donnie really wanted to refuse, but for once, common sense kicked in. His legs spread apart and his flaccid cock and balls dangled meekly between his legs. I cupped his balls and began carefully lining his scrotum with as many as I could, some facing to the right and some to the left. This was going to make it very uncomfortable to walk over to the bed without hurting himself or popping them off accidentally. Either way, he was going to be hurting.

I put the last of the clothespins on his scrotum, and I smiled at my artwork. I could make such creative designs, not that my clients ever seemed to appreciate that part of my talents. I stood up, and I gave Donnie a sharp whack with my hand on his bottom just because I could. He winced a bit, but I could tell that I needed to switch back to my hairbrush to make him yell. That was already my plan.

“Ok, Donnie,” I said. “It’s time for us to really get down to business. I’m going to sit on the bed, and you are going to bend yourself over my lap with your body draped on the bed so that I can give you the good, hard, bare bottom spanking that you deserve. I expect complete compliance. No kicking and no wiggling off my lap. Any infractions will be harshly punished. Remember, those clothespins twist just as easily as the nipple clamps.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Donnie replied. Finally. I was getting somewhere in changing his attitude towards me.

I gracefully walked over to the bed and sat down, pulling my skirt toward my knees. I set the hairbrush on the bed next to me so that I could assist Donnie in positioning himself over my lap.

“Alright, Donnie,” I instructed, “You may walk over to the bed now.” Donnie began what was an uncomfortable for him but amusing for me waddle over to the bed.  I could tell he was also not wanting to walk any faster than he had to because he was trying to stall his punishment. That was fine. He could really only extend the wait by a few seconds. When he finally got over to me, though, he quickly bent over my lap like a good boy. He spread his legs apart to keep the clothes pins from prodding his legs and balls too much. He delicately put his chest onto the bed, concerned about what the nipple clamps might do. I decided to show him. I pushed down strongly on the center of his back, and he let out a scream of pain as the clamps dug in.

“That was just a warning, Donnie,” I said. “I wanted to let you know how any lack of cooperation will be dealt with during this spanking.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Donnie replied.

With that, I was ready to begin his spanking. I picked up my hairbrush, rubbed it across his backside so that he knew I was about to begin, and then I let the brush come crashing down onto his bottom. As expected, he screamed out, but he did try to hold still as he didn’t want any of the torture devices on his body to create any more misery.

Not feeling overly merciful, I set forth in giving Donnie the kind of harsh spanking that any naughty boy could expect from me even if he spent his daytime hours as a CEO. Over my lap, I could revert him to a sobbing little boy in minutes. My wooden hairbrush and I were experts at the job. I began moving the brush up and down his bottom and legs, switching sides periodically but randomly. I settled into a steady rhythm, spanking fairly rapidly. Donnie was howling within only a few seconds, though most men would only have been grunting at that point. To his credit, Donnie was a good boy about staying over my lap and not reaching back. I’d had to smack his hands thoroughly last time for trying to stop the brush, and this time he knew not to do it.

As Donnie’s bottom and thighs went from pale pink to dark pink to red, he continued to howl and wriggle. I had my left arm around his waist to steady him from rocking off of me. Eventually, I felt the release in his body that I was waiting for: The one that told me he was no longer fighting his punishment and had accepted his place of submission. When he reached that point, I slowed my spanking strokes, working on randomly smacking the spots on his backside that weren’t as red as the others. His howling also slowed, but he still winced and shrieked with each new smack. Once I was satisfied with my artistry on his canvas, I placed the hairbrush next to me on the bed and began slowly running my hands over Donnie’s bottom. I could tell he found the gesture soothing though his whimpering and sniffing continued as he recovered from the harsh spanking he just endured.

“I’m very proud of you for taking this part of your punishment well, Donnie,” I began speaking again when I felt he was ready to pay attention. “You didn’t try to block the hairbrush or get off my lap. That shows you can be a good boy who follows directions when you want to. Hopefully learning to submit to me in the bedroom will help you learn how to submit to your Uncle Steve in the office. If not, he’ll report back to me, and I will punish you for it.”

Silence ensued this little lecture of mine, so I gave Donnie another sharp smack on his very sore bottom. Donnie yelped and replied quickly, “Yes, ma’am! I’ll be good! I promise.”

“I’m glad to hear that Donnie,” I replied. “Now, it’s time for you to get onto the bed on your back with your legs spread so I can remove the clothespins.”

Donnie scooted off of my lap as carefully as he could, not wanting the clothespins to cause any more damage than they already were. He gingerly sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back, spreading his legs as wide as he could. While he was arranging himself, I had stood up and reached into my bag of goodies. I pulled out a crop and returned to stand between Donnie’s legs. When he looked up and saw the crop in my hand, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“What are you going to do with that, Mistress?” he asked with great trepidation.

“I’m going to remove the clothespins from your ballsack,” I confidently replied. “Don’t worry. This is not a trick amateurs should try, and I am not an amateur. I spent years practicing to learn how to do this correctly, and I’ve done it to many other naughty boys aside from yourself, Donnie. However, if you don’t want to receive a hard cropping in some very delicate places, I suggest you hold as still as possible while I do this. It’s probably best if you pull your legs up onto the bed and use your hands to hold your knees open.”

Donnie quickly followed my directions, though I could tell by the look on his face that he was still scared out of his wits about what I was going to do. I smiled my most wicked smile, and then I quickly began slapping off the clothespins with my incredibly accurate aim and my trusty crop. It actually took me less than a few seconds to remove them all, so fast that Donnie didn’t have time to react. However, once they were off and the blood began rushing back to his scrotum, Donnie let out another howl of pain. His hands flew off his knees and onto his sack, grasping and rubbing and attempting to stop the sting. I knew that this intense pain would only last briefly, and he would calm down quickly. However, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy watching his desperate attempts to stop it.

Once Donnie’s sack quit hurting so intensely, he simply lay on the bed. I could tell that he was in a submissive state. The hard hairbrush spanking had gotten through to him fairly quickly this time. I went and sat on the bed and gently rubbed his hair.

“You’re being a good boy, Donnie. You’re learning to listen and follow directions without questioning them. That’s a good thing. You need to be able to work well with others rather than insisting on doing things your way all the time. I know this isn’t a pleasant way to learn those lessons, but it’s well past time you learned them.”

Donnie looked at me meekly and whispered, “Yes, ma’am.” I had him in the submissive state I wanted him in. As an act of kindness, I then leaned over and quickly tugged off the nipple clamps he was still sporting. Of course, this resulted in another howl as Donnie’s nipples regained feeling. I could only smile as he desperately tried to rub the pain away.

I stood up and replaced my crop in my bag, but I also pulled out my heavy wooden school paddle.  Donnie’s Uncle Steve and I had worked out a daily incentive system that I was now going to put into action. Each day at the end of the work day, Uncle Steve was going to evaluate Donnie’s behavior for the day. He and Donnie would discuss it before Donnie went home. If Donnie had failed to be cooperative and compliant that day, then he would earn a demerit. Each demerit he earned from Uncle Steve would result in a hard swat with the paddle from me. Since there were five days in the work week, Donnie could earn up to five swats from me. This was on top of whatever type of spanking I felt was necessary to shape his general submission and cooperation with me.

Having grabbed my next weapon of choice, I went and stood in front of Donnie again. He was still curled up in the fetal position on the bed trying to recover from the stinging pain in his nipples, his sack, his ass, and his thighs. When he saw me with the paddle, he began to beg.

“Please, Mistress Lacey, no more. I can’t take any more today,” he whined.

“I’m afraid that’s not true, Donnie. You have to take what is coming to you. You earned the swats you are going to receive with the paddle through your behavior at work last week, and so now it’s time to pay the piper. Now, how many demerits did Uncle Steve give you last week?” I asked.

I could tell Donnie wanted to refuse to answer. Then I could tell he was thinking about lying. However, he knew that his Uncle Steve and I texted each other daily, so if he lied, I would know. Finally deciding to accept his fate, Donnie whispered out to me, “Five. Five demerits. Five swats.”

“I’m glad you know how the demerits translate to swats. I am disappointed, though, Donnie, that you were such a bad boy at work last week. However, I’m happy to give you the punishment you deserve. Please stand up for me now and walk over to your desk,” I ordered.

Donnie delicately rolled off the bed, being careful to put as little pressure as possible on his sorest parts, some of which were about to get even sorer. He limped over to the desk with his ballsack obviously still sore and his ass smarting as well. Once Donnie got next to the desk, he put his hands over his crotch out of modesty, not that I hadn’t just seen everything he had to display.

Ignoring his hands over his genitals, I began a new line of inquiry with him. “Donnie, when you were still in school, was corporal punishment allowed?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, obviously wondering why I was asking.

“And were you ever in the principal’s office for a licking?” I pried further.

“Um, yes, ma’am. Twice when I was in high school. I probably should have been there more often, but I escaped with only two paddlings from the principal. There were some other incidents with teachers, though,” he fully confessed.

“So what was the routine in your principal’s office?” I requested.

“Well, we’d go in and sit down. He’d ask us why we thought we were sent there. We’d confess our sins, and then he’d issue a ruling on our punishment. If he decided we were getting a paddling, he’d call our parents to let them know even though they’d already signed a form giving their consent. My mom was the one who got the call both times, and both times she insisted on talking to me. She let me know that I could expect a hard belt licking from my dad that night, too, for acting out at school,” he reminisced.

“Hmmm…” I thought out loud, “Perhaps next week we’ll start with your paddling and then move on to a belt spanking afterward. That seems like it might jar some memories of how to behave from your subconscious.” Donnie did not look pleased with this idea of mine, but he knew that talking back to me when I was holding a big wooden paddle was a very bad idea.

“So tell me what happened next,” I prompted Donnie.

“After I hung up the phone, I would have to go stand at the back of the principal’s desk and lean over toward the front. The principal would get the secretary or a volunteer from the office to come in to witness the paddling. The rules said he had to paddle us in whatever we were wearing, and luckily both times I was wearing jeans though they didn’t offer much protection from his hard swing. Then, once he was ready, he would give us the paddling. He’d make us count off the strokes and thank him when he was done. Once we stopped crying, we were sent back to class,” Donnie finished.

“Well,” I said, “You’re not wearing anything right now, so it appears you’ll be getting your paddling exactly as you are, unfortunately for you. We’re also lucky enough to have not one but two willing witness for your paddling, though.”

Donnie’s jaw dropped as he realized that I was about to bring in his security guards to see him get a bare bottom paddling. His ass was already bright red, so he had to have known that the paddling was going to hurt a great deal, and he had to have known that he was going to scream loudly with each swat. The color began to drain from his face. I could tell he was debating protesting my verdict, but as I held up the paddle in both my hands for his viewing pleasure, I could see that urge back down within him. Donnie knew that the five swats he was about to get were going to be extremely painful, and he didn’t want to earn any more.

“Yes, ma’am,” Donnie squeaked out. And with that, he compliantly bent over the desk without me even asking him to do it. That was a very good sign. I walked over to the door and poked my head out.

“Ok, gentlemen, we’re ready for you to witness Donnie’s paddling,” I said with a smile. Both men smiled back and followed me into Donnie’s room. I motioned for them to stay at a distance of about five feet from the desk, far enough back that they could see Donnie’s face when he looked up but also close enough that they could see the details of the damage I was inflicting on his bottom.

I walked around to the back side of the desk and ran a hand over Donnie’s waiting bottom. It was still quite red and obviously sore. However, I wasn’t done with the job I had been hired to do. I lifted up my paddle with both hands, took aim, pulled back, and swung hard.

“ONE!” Donnie screamed as the impact of the paddle reverberated through his bottom. I gave him a few seconds to calm himself, and then I took aim again. Once again, Donnie screamed out “TWO” after the paddle hit is ass. I could tell he wanted to stand up and rub his bottom, but instead, he just rocked back and forth as his hands gripped the front of the desk with all his might. Once his rocking subsided, I gave the third stroke which Donnie counted off with a scream.

I paused to look up at the guards who were both still smiling at me. The joy on their faces was amazing. I was so glad I’d let them partake in this event. I decided it was time to get this over with, though. I let the paddle hit Donnie’s ass hard and rapidly twice in a row. Donnie screamed “FOUR” and “FIVE!” After the fifth swat, his body seemed to crumple on the desk. He let go of his firm grip, and his tears began to flow. I motioned to the guards that they should leave, and I began to rub Donnie’s back.

“I’m sorry I had to punish you so harshly, Donnie boy, but you earned this paddling and you know it. Next week, you might be able to avoid the entire paddling by cooperating with your Uncle Steve. If not, I’ll be paddling you again. And despite the rules in your principal’s office, I’m instituting a new rule here. You will always get the paddle on your bare bottom from me. Do I make myself clear, young man?” I asked.

Through his tears, Donnie replied, “Yes ma’am.” Then he asked very submissively, “May I get up, Mistress Lacey?”

“Yes, Donnie. Your punishment is over. You can get up and get dressed if you would like or you can get in bed and cry for a while. Whatever you would like to do is fine with me,” I responded. “However, I recommend that you spend some time reflecting on how you are going to avoid this happening next week when I come to visit you.”

“Yes, ma’am” was Donnie’s only response as he stood up and painfully walked over to his bed where he curled up in a ball on top of the covers. I put my paddle back in my bag, zipped it up, and headed out the bedroom door which I shut quietly behind me.

The guards both smiled at me as I said my goodbyes. Then, with a bit of hesitation, the junior guard asked me, “Um, ma’am? Do you have a business card? For a friend, of course,” he quickly added. I smiled and pulled one out of the side pocket of my bag.

“I look forward to hearing from your friend,” I answered, and then I headed down the long hall once again.

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

Gag Me

When he arrived at my front door, he found me in black heels, thigh high black stockings, a silky black g-string and a black lacy corset. I had a black lace choker necklace on, and my hair was flowing freely. The look in his eyes as he walked in the door told me immediately that he approved of my attire. He dropped his bag, put one hand on my waist, and kissed me firmly on the lips. Then, opening his other hand, he handed me a squeaky toy that belonged to his dog. I looked at him with puzzlement.

“Are we going to play fetch today?” I questioned.

“No, we are not playing fetch, silly. That is going to be your safeword today,” he replied. I was still very confused, though.

“What’s wrong with my usual safeword?” I queried.

He gave me an evil grin. “You can’t possibly tell me your safeword if you have your mouth filled with a ball gag, and you can’t wave an arm or a leg if I have them bound to the bed.”

“Oh.” I replied. So we were going there. One of my last fears. One of my biggest worries. Trusting him enough to surrender my voice to him. To let him dominate me and not be able to say “STOP” if I got scared. Yes, I’d have the squeaky toy. It was still a major act of trust on my part to let him do this.

“Are you ok?” he said, looking into my eyes with concern.

“Yes. I just didn’t expect this. But I want this. I need this. I trust you. I just have to let go and surrender to it.”

With that, he gave me another kiss and a firm pat on my ass. “Upstairs. Now!” he commanded me, and I willingly obeyed. I took his hand and led him into my room. Once there, I put my arms around his shoulders and my hands around the back of his neck. I began kissing him passionately, letting him know how much I wanted him, even if he had other plans for entertaining us.

“God, you are so sexy, woman. You turn me on. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to wait a while to do something about that problem. Instead, I’m going to deal with the problem of your lily white ass,” he remarked, giving my bottom its next smack of the day. Despite the shock of the impact, I refused to give him the pleasure of crying out with surprise. He’d just have to wait until he earned my screams. Two could play at this game, or so I thought.

He led me over to the bed where he piled a few pillows in the center. “Up and over, Little One.” I wriggled across the bed and placed my plump bottom over the pillows, my face then laying down into the quilt. I felt him grab my left foot and draw it out towards the footboard. Soon, hemp rope was binding my foot in place, loose enough for me to not lose circulation but tight enough that I wasn’t going to be able to move more than an inch or two until he released me, an action that would be fully his to decide upon.

He repeated his actions again with my right foot. I could hear the rope knocking against the headboard as he swung it around, making loops and knots that would keep me captive. I tried to move a bit, but I found that, as always, he had done an excellent job of binding me exactly where he wanted me. Then followed my wrists, one after the other. I was now making a giant X while lying sideways across the king-sized bed, a position which left my ass exactly in position for a good, hard spanking from my Master. Just to make sure there would be no unintentional damage, he unfastened the garter straps attached to the bottom of my corset from their secured place on my stockings. He tucked the straps up out of the way, leaving my ass a completely clear target since my g-string was wedged firmly in my butt crack.

However, the setup was not complete yet. My Master pulled the ball gag from his bag. This was a new toy, one I’d never seen before. Before putting the gag on me, he asked if I had any final words or requests. I asked if this was a death sentence! He gave me an evil grin and handed me the squeaky dog toy back again since I had set it on the bed during our preparations. Then, he pulled my hair back into a ponytail fastener so that it would be clear of the gag. He looked at me and commented lovingly, “You look so beautiful when you are tied up like that.” His comments were punctuated with a kiss, which although it was at an awkward angle, still contained plenty of tongue and passion. Binding me like this always aroused him in ways nothing else could. My submission was his ultimate pleasure.

With that, he put the gag around my head and into my mouth. He tightened it and stepped back to assess the situation. The smile on his face told me he approved, but it also told me something else. He had another surprise in store for me. His hand reached back to his pocket and pulled out a folded black blindfold. “I thought we’d see what sensory deprivation was like. Are you ok with that?”

I looked at him and saw the love and desire in his eyes. Yes, I was fine with that. I nodded my head in the affirmative, and with my consent, my lover gently slipped the elastic over the back of my head. I was now bound, gagged and blindfolded. I was truly at my Master’s mercy.

I heard my Master moving around to the other side of the bed. Soon, I felt his warm hand gently caressing my ass as he contemplated his first line of attack. Giving into temptation rather quickly, his hand smacked my white bottom, beginning the process we both loved of making my skin quite red from his touch. Again and again he spanked, moving from one side to the other, taking some time to smack the tops of my thighs because he knew I loved being spanked there. He also made sure that he spanked both of my sit spots repeatedly, causing me to squirm on the bed and squeak through the gag to voice my disapproval at one of his favorite tricks.

Eventually the hand spanking stopped, and my Master rubbed my bottom with his hand. He spoke to me, telling me how good I was being in accepting my spanking, not that I had any choice given how he had tied me up.

It was at this point that I decided to let him know that I had figured out how to spit the gag out. As he turned to get another toy from my collection to use on my ass, I spat the gag out and said to him, “You know, I’ve read on Fetlife that spitting out the gag is often a behavior that causes Doms to have to punish their subs.”

Quickly his body flew around to the other side of the bed. “How did you get that out?” he questioned, not really waiting for an answer. He immediately tightened the gag, and this time, my mouth wasn’t going to be escaping from its prison. He then replied to my original statement, “Yes, you definitely deserve some punishment for that behavior. It won’t be tolerated at all in the future!”

With this pronouncement, he returned to the opposite side of the bed and swung the small round leather paddle he had picked up hard on my bottom. The first swat was not a gentle one, but was one which made me strain against the ropes and scream through the gag. “That,” he sternly commented, “Was for being such a naughty sub and even attempting to escape the gag.” A second painful swat came down on the opposite side of my ass resulting in a second comment from him, “And that was for actually succeeding.”

Having let me know he now meant business, my Master begin rhythmically spanking my bottom, giving me a swat here and a swat there. Slowly but surely he was going to turn my ass red, but I never knew which section of my ass was going to be his next target. I couldn’t see what he was doing, and I could only make out a limited amount of his movements through sound.

Though I tried to squirm away from his vigorous attack on my poor bottom as he continued to use the small leather paddle, my struggles were in vain thanks to his excellent knot tying skills. The only real options I had were to accept the consequences of letting him tie me up or to use my safeword. I definitely did not want to do the latter because despite the pain, I was enjoying this entirely too much.

After having turned my bottom a sufficiently dark shade of pink, my Master dropped the paddle on the bed. His hands slowly ran up my back, and bending over carefully, he kissed my back near my neck. Softly he gave me tender kisses along the base of my neck. His love was coming through very clearly even though no words were being spoken.

Running his fingers along the back of my corset had given him another idea. He returned to the toy box to find his favorite toy and one of my least favorites, the crop. I had contemplated burning that damn thing, but I was certain he would buy another if I did. Armed with his favorite toy, he began running the crop up and down my back, teasing those places where the laces left gaps to my open skin. It was sensuous yet torturous because I never knew when those gentle caresses would be replaced by sharp smacks against my inner thighs and on my bottom. As I expected, the temptation of making me screech soon got the best of him, and my Master began alternating his loving trips up and down my spine with painful whacks of the crop. He really enjoyed using the crop on my inner thighs because that was the place where I was most sensitive to its stinging bites.

Eventually he decided that my bottom was starting to fade too much, and he didn’t want that to happen. My Master announced sternly, “It’s time to really start reddening your bottom.” I shuddered to think what that meant since he had been doing a good job spanking me with the little paddle earlier. However, he had the bigger, longer, wider, more painful leather paddle in mind. I felt him gently place the paddle over my entire bottom as he whispered in my ear, “This time, you’re really going to feel its sting.”

With those words of warning, he stood back up at the end of the bed, and he let his first swing take aim at my bottom. OUCH! Despite having warmed me up with his hand and the smaller paddle, the time we had taken off to play with the crop had left me unprepared for the wrath of this paddle, especially when my Master was using it sternly on my ass to make sure I understood fully that he was in charge. He began counting the swats he gave me, spacing them out just far enough from each other to give me the maximum sting yet also to cause the maximum suspense as I waited for the next blow to land.

As he doled out the fifth swat, I began to squirm and squeal. As we got to the tenth swat, I began to cry. Finally, when we let the twelfth swat land on my very sore bottom, I knew I could take no more. I squeaked the dog toy, and he immediately dropped the paddle on the bed. He quickly came around to my head, took off the blindfold, and removed the gag.

“Are you ok?” he asked with great concern in his voice.

“Yes, I will be fine. We just hit my pain limit for all I could handle today,” I responded, sad that I had needed to end things but so glad that he had proven that he would listen to my needs.

He gently wiped the tears from my face and kissed me, gently at first, and then passionately. “I still need to fuck you. Please, will you help me with my erection?” he asked.

“Yes, Master, I would love to let you use my pussy to relieve your hard-on,” I genuinely replied.

He kissed me once more, and then went to the other side of the bed where he untied my legs, but he left my wrists bound. “Kneel up so that your pussy is at the right height for me to fuck you from behind,” he commanded. While he dropped his pants, removed his shirt and boxers, and slipped on a condom, I complied with his orders. I spread my legs apart, making room for his dick to easily penetrate me.

And that it did. My Master’s dick is on the smaller side of average, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. They say good things come in small packages, and that is definitely the case in this situation. My Master is always able to pound my pussy in an amazing way that leaves me howling with pleasure. No other man had ever made me cum the way he could.

Over and over my Master began to thrust, continuing past my first orgasm and waiting for the next one and the one after that to ensue quickly. He did not stop pounding me until I finally begged for mercy, exhausted by the handful of orgasms his thrusting dick had given me. As soon as I gave him the word, he let loose with his load, cumming inside me with a great moan of pleasure.

He collapsed on the bed beside me, and I let my legs down beneath me. My arms were still spread across the bed, my face on the quilt, and my wrists tightly tied. After a few minutes of cuddling next to me, he finally said with a smile, “I suppose you’d like me to untie you now.”

“Yes, Master,” I replied. “It’s been a wonderful session, but I’d like to feel my arms again, please.” He untied my wrists, and once I was free, he allowed me to put my arms around him tightly.

“Thank you,” I whispered into his ear as he tightened our embrace. “Thank you for helping me face my fears. Thank you for respecting my limits. Thank you for loving me the way you do.”

©2017 WoodLeatherLace.com

Naughty Elf

Officially I’m known as Elf #3269. I’ve been an “employee” at the North Pole for seven years now. I say that with a bit of tongue in cheek because we’re not paid workers. No. We’re slaves. We work for nothing except room and board. We work all year long except for two weeks after Christmas when we get unpaid vacation so that we can lounge around on the luxurious icebergs near the North Pole. (That’s sarcasm, just in case you missed it.) I guess I should be grateful I’m not starving in a jungle or floating through space, but still, I don’t like having to do what I’m told rather than doing what I want to do.

Perhaps that’s why I earned my nickname, Naughty Elf. Everyone at the North Pole calls me that and with good reason. I’ve earned that reputation fair and square. I just don’t do well following directions. I get distracted by the toys I’m making or the ideas in my head. I see a reindeer go by, and I want to go play with him. It’s not that I try to be a naughty elf. I just can’t seem to be a devoted one.

Even when I’m on house duty helping Mrs. Claus in the kitchen, I still find myself in tons of trouble. I can’t tell you how many times Mrs. Claus has put me over her lap or bent me over her kitchen counter to reprimand me in a rather painful way for my misdoings. Again, I don’t try to be naughty in the kitchen. I just find trouble, or maybe it finds me.

Last week is just one such example. I was on potato peeling duty, a task that’s given as punishment but which I actually kind of enjoy. As I was peeling the spuds, I noticed that the potato peels could be used to create a piece of abstract artwork, and so as I took off the skins, I turned them into a really cool looking picture of what I think the ocean looks like.

However, Mrs. Claus was not impressed at all. When she came over after thirty minutes of me working unsupervised and found the potato pot almost empty but the counter almost full of carefully arranged peels, she kind of blew a gasket. Ok, she did lose it completely. She hollered out, “Naughty Elf, whatever am I going to do with you?” I didn’t know how to answer that in a way that wouldn’t get me in more trouble. However, since Mrs. Claus was already removing her apron and rolling up her sleeves, I knew exactly how she was going to handle the situation that day: the same way she handled my behavior almost every time I was in her kitchen.

Mrs. Claus pulled on my ear and dragged me over toward the eating area where a chair was awaiting her arrival. All the other elves became very quiet, and while they were pretending to keep working, I knew what they were actually doing was watching carefully so that they could see my cute little elf bottom on display. They knew that within a few minutes, Mrs. Claus would have it both bare and red.

The kitchen elves were not disappointed. As soon as she sat down, Mrs. Claus lifted my red and white dress up while simultaneously pulling me over her lap. My elf hat fell off as my head went downward toward the floor in one quick motion. Before I could even utter a word of protest, Mrs. Claus pulled a wooden spoon from her deep skirt pockets and set to work peppering my bottom with that instrument of many uses. I really preferred she’d just use it for stirring, but she likes to use it to redden my bottom more often than not! She told me that she wanted me to remember every time I stirred a pot that the spoon I was using could end up on my bare bottom lickety-split.

I don’t know how long Mrs. Claus worked on getting my bottom and thighs into the Christmas spirit. She had pulled down my elf panties pretty early on as they were obstructing her work of reaching that perfect shade of crimson that we all associate with Christmas cheer. I was just hoping that her spoon was the only weapon of culinary creation that she planned to use on my poor bottom. Sometimes Mrs. Claus felt extra inspired, and on those days, a silicone spatula might also end up coming out of her pockets to join in the fun of reddening my bottom. Well, it was fun for the other elves enjoying the show in the kitchen. For me, not so much. I much preferred entertaining myself with the potato peels!

Then there was the one time I was really naughty in the kitchen. I let a whole pot of soup burn because I was busy playing with sprinkles I found in the cabinets. I didn’t mean to burn the pot and the food in it. I didn’t try to catch it on fire. It just happened so suddenly. Mrs. Claus said that nothing burns that badly in a short amount of time, but I think she proved herself wrong when she set my bottom on fire that day. Since she was so mad at me, she bent me over the kitchen counter and used a bread board like a paddle on my bare bottom. I yelped very loudly each time that board hit my bottom, and I sported bruises that were not only red but purple and black for the next few days after that. Unfortunately, some of the bruises were low enough to be seen beneath the hem of my short elf skirt, so the other elves felt free to torment me and remind me of my mistakes each time they saw the errors of my ways marked on my backside.

What I hated most of all, even more than the spoon, even more than the spatula, and even more than even that horrid bread board, was corner time. Mrs. Claus was extra mean about corner time. When the Head Elf spanked me in the workshop, he never put me in the corner afterward. He always wanted me back at work as quickly as possible. And when Santa himself spanked me, well, that’s a different story I’ll tell you about soon. Santa certainly didn’t end things with corner time! But Mrs. Claus was a stickler about putting bad little elves like me in the corner with our dresses tucked up or our pants pulled down so that all of the kitchen staff that day could enjoy the view and be reminded of what happens when elves go bad. I hated being on display like that for the other elves to see all my intimate parts and to torment me when they walked by. The only good thing about corner time was that as long as I didn’t forget and start rubbing my bottom, I would be left in peace to daydream for as long as Mrs. Claus deemed necessary to enhance my punishment. Sometimes it was minutes, and sometimes it was hours. It all depended how soon Mrs. Claus wanted to risk putting me back to work in the kitchen.

Then there was Head Elf and his spankings. I did not like Head Elf, and the feeling was mutual. He was a bit of a sadist, truth be told. He was always looking for reasons to spank me. Unfortunately, I gave him way too many legitimate reasons to spank me, so he didn’t have to look too hard. While he had started spanking me with just his hand, he soon realized that he was hurting his hand as much as my bottom. Once he made that realization, he would go into the Defective Toy Room to find something else to torture my bottom with before the toy was recycled or used in the furnace for fuel. I never knew what he might find to spank me with. Once it was a Hot Wheels track that hadn’t quite bent in the right direction for a racetrack, but it set my bottom on fire quickly and painfully under Head Elf’s guidance.

More recently, Head Elf had found a defective ping pong paddle. While the paddle was useless for hitting a ball, he thought that it would be incredibly useful in spanking the bad behavior out of one Naughty Elf, namely me. When he emerged from the Defective Toy Room tapping that paddle against his palm, I knew my bottom was going to get a real “treat” that day. I was not disappointed. Sitting on Santa’s favorite chair where he would often watch over the workshop, Head Elf pulled me across his lap and set to work using the ping pong paddle as though I was a little white ball that needed to be hit across the room. Having removed my skirt and panties from his way before starting, Head Elf didn’t give me any kind of warm up at all that day. No, he went straight for the kill. My bottom was bright red very quickly, and it was giving off enough heat to melt a snow pile or an icicle. Of course, I didn’t suggest those ideas to him for fear that the sadist might actually stick an icicle up my bum or plop me in the nearest snow drift to “cool off” after his handiwork.

Then there was the day that Head Elf found a paddle ball toy for my bottom to play with. It was the kind of toy that has a ball attached to a paddle with a long elastic string. However, as it usually happens with those toys, the ball had broken off just leaving a paddle. Many parents knew the secret of using those broken paddle ball toys as disciplinary instruments, and it seemed someone had let Head Elf in on the knowledge as well. Head Elf was very quick to bend my naughty elf self over a wooden stool and to flip my skirt up. He gave my bottom several hard spanks before realizing he had forgotten to pull down my panties. Perhaps it was the loud and suggestive whispers of the elves on the line behind us that clued him in. I heard one of them say, “Oh, man, isn’t he going to bare her bottom for us to see it turn red?” I wasn’t happy with that elf for giving Head Elf the reminder. I would have been quite content to get away with a pantied spanking. However, my panties soon were on the floor around my elf jingle slippers, and my bottom and thighs were being decorated with the Christmas spirit. My yelps and cries filled the workshop with sounds much more melodious than Christmas carols.

So Santa and his spankings… well, they were a reindeer of another color. It’s a little-known fact in the rest of the world that Santa is a pretty kinky dude. At the North Pole, though, all the elves know that Santa loves to get his hands (and more) on the bottoms of his staff. Mrs. Claus long ago stopped meeting Santa’s needs, saying that he kept her too busy in the kitchen for her to be able to spend time doing recreational wifely duties. She suggested he had plenty of elves and reindeer to entertain him if he still needed “it” at his age, and Santa certainly thought he did!

One of the ways in which Santa picked his new sex elves for the year was through our Christmas stockings. You may have heard that Santa puts coal in the stockings of bad little girls and boys, but that’s not true for elves. No, we get the bundles of switches that are thought to be folklore. When elves get bundle of switches in their stockings, those elves knows that the year ahead will be filled with a great deal of Santa-induced pain in the ass, and not just from the switches! The following Christmas, if an elf finds presents in his or her stocking, then the elf was relieved from being one of Santa’s personal toys after having given a full year of submissive service.

Me? I wasn’t so lucky. I had been at the North Pole for seven years now. For the past six years, I had always received a bundle of switches on Christmas morning. I was rumored to be one of Santa’s favorite elf toys because no other elf had received switches for more than a year or two in a row. Being naughty was just up Santa’s alley, and since I was Naughty Elf, I was able to please the old man in ways that the other elves weren’t as good at.

Still, I held out hope that this Christmas I would finally graduate from receiving the bundle of switches and would only have to perform my “other” duties for Santa. Maybe I would receive a nice sweater or a bocce ball set or anything but another year of spanking servitude. However, my hopes were dashed on Christmas morning when I ran to my stocking only to find my seventh bundle of switches. I knew what that meant for my Christmas day, too. While the other elves began their vacation on this day, those of us who got switches also got beatings to end the North Pole year. There were about twenty of us elves with bundles, but I knew from years past that I would be the last to get my switching. Santa always had something special in mind for me.

Sure enough, I was right. Santa began reading off the names of the other bad little elves, and one by one, they approached Santa with their birch bundles. I actually did enjoy watching the other elves pulling down their underwear and placing themselves face down and bottoms up on Santa’s chair so that he could whip their bottoms thoroughly in honor of the Christmas festivities. While I knew that my bottom would be experiencing the same treatment at the end of the day, it was kind of nice not to be the only one on display. Santa was particularly mean compared to Mrs. Claus and Head Elf as he took away the miscreant elves’ underwear for the rest of the calendar year. Talk about a way to cool off sore bottoms! Losing our underwear also left the welts from the switches on display for all the elves to see over the next week.

It was a long day of Santa spanking the elves of his choice with a few exciting blowjobs thrown in, too, by elves who had begged for mercy through an exchange of oral licks instead of switch licks. Finally, I was called up to the front of the room for my turn bending over Santa’s chair. Much to my surprise, though, Santa changed his procedure for the first time that day. “Naughty Elf,” he said, “Since this is your seventh year of receiving a bundle of switches from me, I thought we would change things up to make the day more exciting for you.”

“Um, thank you, Santa,” I said, trying not to sound sarcastic because I truly didn’t want to increase my discipline that day. I was hoping to be able to *not* sleep on my stomach before the week was over! However, Santa had different plans. He sat down in his chair. As he grabbed my waist, he pulled me over his lap in a position that I was all too familiar with from my time over Mrs. Claus’ lap earlier that week and on many other occasions.

I felt Santa’s fingers caressing my elf ass, and I could hear his breathing changing. He asked me if I had been a good little elf in the past year. I knew the answer to that, as did all the other members of the workshop. How many spankings had I received that year? At least one a week. Sometimes even three or four. Probably at least a hundred spankings that year. No, I had definitely lived up to my reputation as Naughty Elf. So I responded to him, “No, Santa, I’ve been a very naughty elf this year. I’ve been spanked long and hard on many occasions by Mrs. Claus, by Head Elf, and even by you.”

“Hmm,” Santa contemplated. “I guess then we’ll have to give you an extra hard punishment today for all your naughtiness in the past year so that maybe next year will be better for you.”

Knowing I had no choice in the matter, I decided to comply with Santa’s wish for me to be submissive and compliant. “Yes, Santa. I deserve for you to punish me like the naughty little girl elf that I am. Please teach me a lesson that I won’t forget.”

I could hear Santa groan with pleasure, and I could also feel his cock growing beneath his velvety red pants. I knew that it would be my job to take care of that erection later, after Santa had disciplined me thoroughly. For now, I felt a very cold breeze on my rear as Santa lifted my skirt and began rubbing my panties. He began spanking my thighs, working his way up and down both legs. He suddenly yanked my panties into my butt crack, giving him a bit more area to spank, and he took advantage of that newfound skin. However, it didn’t satisfy him for long.

“Naughty Elf,” Santa said, pulling me to a standing position, “Please remove your underwear and give it to me for safe keeping for the next week.” I complied, handing over my dignity with the panties, knowing that my spanking was about to get much worse now that Santa would be able to redden my entire bottom. I was correct. With one deft move, Santa put me back over his lap and returned to using his hand to teach me what a naughty girl I had been. Periodically he said something like, “Naughty little elf!” but I wasn’t really paying attention. Unlike my other spankers, Santa didn’t ask questions when he spanked, so I didn’t have to worry about getting the answers right. Santa also took periodic breaks to run his hands under my body, pulling and pinching on my pussy and sometimes even squeezing my clit before returning to spanking my bottom. Santa was a horny old bastard, that was for sure.

Finally, Santa’s spanking hand wore out. My “special treat” was over, and now I was subject to the same punishment as the rest of the switch-receiving elves. Knowing my fate, I waited for Santa to stand, and then I quickly bent over his chair leaving my already reddened bottom up in the air so that all could see every inch and every detail of my nether regions. There was nothing to do now but yelp in pain each time the birch bundle came down on my bottom. Nothing stung quite like the bite of the birch, and Santa knew that. It’s why he saved it for his special Christmas gift to the elves and to his horny self.

Eventually Santa had put more stripes on my bottom than I thought was possible. He patted me on the bottom to let me know that my punishment was over. I slowly and painfully stood, knowing that as much as things hurt now, it would be worse tomorrow. I was hoping that my duty toward Santa was done for the evening because I was so sore, but it was not to be. Santa whispered in my ear, “Go to the barn now. We’re going to finish off the evening with a little more rough and tumble on your bottom, so be sure to grab the magic sleigh lubricant.” From years of experience, I knew exactly what that meant.

I slowly walked out to the barn, and as I went past the reindeer munching on their oats and carrots, I grabbed a jar that was clearly labeled “magic sleigh lubricant.” Most of the barn elves knew that this was great goop for helping Santa’s sleigh land and take off with ease on his trip around the world. However, those of us who were among Santa’s sex elves knew that this lube had a secondary purpose of moistening our anal chimneys for Santa to slide in with great ease.

From so many years ending up in this position, I knew exactly what Santa wanted from me. I went to the curved front end of Santa’s sleigh, and I carefully bent over. When I did, I pulled my skirt up on my back so that my bottom and all Santa’s handiwork were on display. That would please him greatly.

I didn’t have to wait long. I soon heard that “ho ho ho” coming into the barn, and I knew that I was about to get my final Christmas “present.” I felt Santa sliding up behind me, and I felt him pushing the training crop he used on new reindeers up against my backside. I really didn’t want any more stripes on my ass, but I knew that it was not up to me. I also knew Santa wasn’t going to be able to resist using the crop on me. It was one of his favorite toys.

“Spread your legs,” I heard Santa grunt into my ear.

“Yes, Santa,” I complied, very quickly moving my feet apart and exposing my pussy. I knew where this was headed. Sure enough, I heard the sound of the crop hitting my pussy before I felt the pain jolting through my body. “Oh, Santa!” I cried. “Please don’t be too hard on me. I promise I’ll be a better elf this year.” Yet Santa didn’t seem impressed by my promise. No, he just kept spanking my pussy with that evil crop until finally he could not ignore the lure of my bottom any longer.

I heard the crop hit the barn floor, and I felt the very cold magic sleigh lube dripping into my ass. Next, I heard Santa unfastening his belt and dropping his pants to the floor. When the metal belt buckle clanked against the wood floor, I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank heavens he hadn’t decided to use his belt on me, too. My bottom just couldn’t handle any more.

I felt Santa’s hands against my bare thighs, pulling himself in toward me. His bright red cock began squeezing between my butt cheeks, and as I tried not to clench, I heard Santa moan with pleasure. He gave my ass a slap, and then came the command I knew would follow. “Say it!” he demanded.

“Fuck me, Santa! Fuck me, Santa! Fuck me, Santa!” I replied. “Please, Santa, please cum with your special snow in my tight pink asshole. I want to feel you fuck me hard, Santa!” And with that, Santa began thrusting. Naughty little elf that I was, I actually enjoyed this part of the evening more than words could say. There was nothing quite like having Santa’s cock in my aching bottom, his balls pounding against me loudly with each indecent thrust. I was truly Naughty Elf, and to prove it, I came hard with Santa. Our loud orgasms resounded throughout the barn, but the reindeer thought nothing of it. Santa used their home as his special getaway quite often all year long.

As Santa and I collapsed against the sleigh, I was grateful for the pleasure we shared. I wasn’t looking forward to another year of spankings at the North Pole, but being Santa’s special anal cum elf was a benefit I didn’t mind at all!

©2016 WoodLeatherLace.com