I knocked on the door, and smoothed down my dress. 10 minutes late because I forgot the requested underwear, and had to go back.. Blowing out a breath, I glanced at my wristwatch. 11 minutes minutes now. It’s alright. No one answered the door, and I knocked again, a bit harder. 13 minutes. I tested the handle and found it unlocked, making me feel a little foolish, but relieved. “Sir? I’m back!” I stepped inside and closed the door. “I’m sorry I’m late, I had to go back.” I heard footsteps, and you came into the hallway. I looked at your expression and thought that maybe, I should have just ignored the underwear. I opened my mouth, ready to say something to defend failing the deadline, but you spoke before I did. “I don’t know why you think it’s acceptable to just walk in late and start shouting.” My lips closed, as I didn’t know what to respond. “Come here.” You continued and I couldn’t help but frown, as a burning feeling in my gut told me to make clear that I act in autonomy. “Yes sir.” Of course I found myself slipping out of my shoes and following behind either way as you walked into the living room. You walked over to the couch, and I was still trying to come with a good retort, but not finding one satisfactory. “ Strip to your underwear, and lean over. You’re going to count out loud when I spank you, and if you lose count I’ll start over. Understood?” I licked my lips, and remained firmly in place. “Well, you didn’t hear me knock. So, I just wanted to make sure you heard it when I said hello,that’s why I shouted, sir.” From your expression, this wasn’t a helpful argument. Abort mission. But I did not. “I’m only late because I forgot about the underwear and went back, sir, so really I-” It was almost a relief when you cut me off, as I knew the excuse would be embarrassingly weak. “Five more. Strip, now.” I hesitated for a second, contemplating digging a bigger hole for myself, before responding simply with “Yes sir.” and did as I was told this time. After stripping I walked forward and bent over, putting my lower arms on the armrest of the couch for support. I felt your hand against the back of my thigh, and bit my lip in anticipation. The touch was smooth, and light, a strong contrast against what was coming. “You don’t argue with me. Understand?” I closed my eyes and held back any remaining defiance. “Yes, sir-” My answer ended with the sound of your hand smacking my cheek hard enough to sting, and my own quick intake of breath. I swallowed, and at the second of silence remembered to start counting. “One, sir.” Your hand was back, palming over the spot you just hit. “You look so good like this.” The hand was gone for only a second, before coming down on my other cheek, and I jerked forward slightly, emitting a small gasp. “Two, sir.” I felt you palm the new spot, and held back a moan. “But you look even better with my prints on you.” Another solid smack. “Three, sir.” I tried to keep my voice, and breathing, calm and unaffected- with questionable success. By the time I had counted to ten, I was embarrassingly wet, and failing to pretend otherwise. “Did I say that you could get wet from this?” I couldn’t stop an indignated noise from escaping, but as you hand returned to knead at my ass, I swallowed it back down. “No, sir.” I felt your fingers skirt under the edge of my underwear, and held my breath as they came dangerously close to the wet center. Then they were gone, and I could hear you moving. “Sit.” You said the order as you sat down on the couch yourself, but when I moved towards it you raised your eyebrows. I felt a blush spread across my face as I understood what you meant, and sat down on my knees on the floor in front of you. Feeling my socks against my cheeks were simultaneously a relief and uncomfortable after the spanking. Your hand pulled at the hair by my neck, and tilted up my head, keeping me from looking down from the floor. I couldn’t help but lean into it. “Well?” I blinked at your question, before feeling my blush returning with a vengeance. “Thank you for the punishment, sir. I deserved to be spanked, for not following your orders properly, and talking back sir.” I carefully kept myself from closing my eyes as your thumb pulled on my lip, and parted them obediently. “And?” Your hand stilled, and my I was excruciatingly aware of how empty I was.
“I won’t do it again, sir.” Your hand moved again, as you slipped your pointer and middle finger into my mouth. I closed my lips and swirled my tongue against them, ignoring a slight burn of humiliation in my gut in favour of the much stronger burn of arousal. “Good girl.” I closed my eyes at that, sucking softly on your fingers, as you slowly moved them against my tongue. “You remember rule number six?” I nodded around your fingers, opening my eyes and hoping anyway that you wouldn’t leave me wet like this. You pulled out you fingers and I held back a whine. “I’m going to keep reading now, and you are going to make tea and clean up in the kitchen.” I nodded, trying very hard not to focus on how badly I wanted to be touched right then. You stood up, and I waited for permission to do the same. “And if you want to be touched after that, you’re going to beg.” I felt my jaw clench, and firmly ignored that I was even more wet now. “Yes, sir.” I was not going to beg. Of course not. “You can stand and start with the tea now.” You said as you walked out of the living room, and I stood up on slightly shaky legs.
Should I continue the story?