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KICK hurt and scared when slapped
Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are
under 18- 21 in some localities If you are underage you must leave
now. If you're and curious, this is not the place to get the
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories.
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so we
can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain,
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.
Had to Kick the Bitch Again
I do not enjoy it as much as some of you say. If I did, there
would be trouble. And if she developed a taste for punishment, it could
be a fatal attraction.
I would prefer a woman that understood what I say goes and
that I do not change my mind because she whines or cries. I certainly
wish she could learn that after 12 years.
I do warn her. I think it is some test of resolve for her to push
me to the breaking point. That is a dangerous game because my temper
is shorter some times than others. But this time I think she was pushing
until it broke.
Perhaps somewhere in her dark, abused past there was a holiday
tradition of a beating. All I'm sure of is that she ignored warning after
warning until I had to act.
I don't think 'You don't act like you love me' was the phrase she
thought would set me off. She seemed genuinely shocked along with
hurt and scared when I slapped her across the face.
"No one is going to tell me I don't love you!" I shouted and
slapped her other cheek to even them up.
She looked up at me like an uncomprehending cow. She knew
what she had started. She knew what was coming, but there always was
this stupid, cud-munching look when I blew up.
"I've got people coming over in a minute," she protested.
"Good. I hope they're male so they can help me rape you," I
responded.
She had learned about the clothes over the years. Whatever she
didn't want torn, she better be getting off as fast as she could. If she
wasn't stripping fast enough, I would tear things off for her.
I liked the part about her preparing herself for her own
punishment. It seemed so medieval, so Catholic school.
She was at her best as she bent and took off her underwear. It
was a big target too good to pass up. I kicked her sprawling flat on
the floor.
"You want my boot in your ass, because you've been begging
for it all week," I told her.
She struggled for comfort, but not for escape as I dragged her
downstairs. She had learned how to make the beating worse and how
to add as little as possible. I tied her across the pool table on her back.
Then the doorbell rang. She had been telling the truth. She did
have friends coming over. They would see a new side of her now.
"I was going to rape her first, but I can whip her now and rape
her later if you'd like to watch," I told her boss's daughter-in-law.
She was embarrassed to see her spread out naked. She was
confused by what was going on. She focused both of those into hate for
me.
"You let her up. This is no way to treat someone you love," she
hissed at me.
"I don't love her now. She pissed me off. And if you're thinking
about letting her up, I have to ask you to leave," I replied.
She was defiant. Obviously her husband was pussywhipped. If
she were mine, I'd have spanked that out of her long ago.
"If you try and untie her, I will call the police to have you
removed and then she'll have to explain how this is part of our sex life,"
I told her. "You can imagine how she'll like having a couple of more
outsiders see her that way."
She was begging her boss's not to make trouble and
to please try and understand when I interrupted her.
"I think it'd be great to have you watch," I said as I dropped my
pants and stood with my cock pointing at her. "If you stick around I'll
let you paddle her a little."
She was frozen a moment as she saw me naked too and didn't
thaw from her indecision until I had climbed up on the pool table. She
understood that I was going to go right ahead in front of her then. She
ran off, but paused at the steps.
She tried to make it sound like she only wanted to assure her
bound friend that she would be back. I think she wanted to see me
stick my cock in her. I was fucking the spread-eagle bitch when she
finally left.
It was a punative fuck and only for pleasure in the sense that I
jammed my cock in and out of her until I came inside her. That was to
show her her place.
She could earn so much more by her obedience, but she had
earned a whipping with her disobedience.
"What did I do?" she began trying her excuses.
She wanted to rehash and rewrite. Somehow she would make
me the bad guy. It was all a misunderstanding. It was my
misunderstanding.
I wasn't the one tied to the pool table with dripping out of
my snatch. I hardly thought it mattered how we got to this point. I knew
there was nothing she could say that would save her ass from a whipping.
"You got yourself tied to the pool table just in time for company,"
I told her. "Now you're going to get your butt beat."
There were a lot of fun ways to use the pool table. I could leave
either her hands or her ankles tied and then roll her off the end. I could,
as I did, leave one ankle and one wrist tied and then roll her off the side.
She liked that least of all. It was a stretched-out awkward
position and she could never seem to get a good purchase to help
relieve the strain on her bound limbs. And those brief moments of finding
a place to put her hand or foot slipped away when I hit her.
Her had left her a legacy I could appreciate. It wasn't
some lame tradition or custom. It was a rug-beater. A woven wire frame
supported a waffle shape web of wire and I had bent it a little narrower
to better fit on her wide ass.
She had to yowl when the beater whistled down on her ass the
first time. I liked to break her spirit with that one. I hit her brutally hard.
I found that she was better behaved when she had to fear another like
the first.
It also made a pretty map of angry welts raise instantly on
the white background of her butt. She looked whipped already and we
had just begun.
She scrambled for a foothold or a handhold as I flicked the
beater against her ass again. I also got great reactions for little effort
after I had her the first time. I kept her scrambling like a on a
linoleum floor as I smacked her every time she seemed to be getting her
balance.
"No! I'm sorry! Please! That's enough! I've learned my lesson!
I don't need any more! Please!" she begged all the things she thought
might work.
She was sobbing like a faucet, but that was no trick. She had
deprived tears of their power by using them at every opportunity. I was
whipping her until her ass didn't jerk as high. Once I had dulled the pain
there was no point.
As I looked at the delightful criss-cross of on her ass, I was
sorry I had raped her before the whipping. She looked so tender and
sore that I wished I was squatting behind her, slapping my belly into her
raw rear end.
Maybe that would be something to think about the next time I
beat her. There was no reason to whine about it now. I would have to
find something else to do with the sight.
She was very willing to let me tie her wrists behind her if it meant
escaping her strained position hanging off the side of the pool table.
"I'm really, really sorry," she said, staring at her feet. "I didn't
mean to make you mad. Can't we just go on from here and try to have
a good day?"
She was begging on general principles. There wasn't anything
she could be expecting because I didn't tie her up after a spanking very
often. And then I did different things every time.
It didn't occur to me that we might be getting company until I
had her tied by the hair to the ceiling beam. She didn't have much hair to
work with, but I had her pulled up so she had to go up on tip-toes to
relieve the strain on her roots. The red-streaked welted butt looked even
more enticing when she tensed it.
It was a blessing and a curse when the doorbell rang again. I
was just thinking I could get it up and fuck her when it interrupted. On
the other hand, it was her boss's son and his and that amused me.
"Come on in, she's got something she wants to show you," I
smiled.
I missed the reaction from the women. I was watching him see
her hanging naked and then drink in the view as she spun away from him
to hide her face. His was trying to push him out of the room and I
saw I was right about him being pussywhipped.
"I was about to fuck her, but since you're a guest, I'll let you go
first," I suggested to him. "Or you can just watch if you'd like."
I knew they would leave like scalded cats. Having them see her
hanging naked was enough anyway.
"How can I go back to work now?" she was howling.
"You drive down to the end of the road and turn right. Then you
park and go inside," I told her.
I knew what she meant. Her embarrassment and the
corresponding glint in her boss's son's eyes was a big part of the
erection growing in my pants. And he would always look at her different
now. He knew what she looked like naked. If he was a real he
would know what the inside of her felt like.
I was about to check and see if I remembered it right. She
didn't like anything that made her hair pull and my cock forcing its
way between her legs made her go way up on her toes to let me spread
her legs and push my cock into her.
"OWW! You're hurting me!" she complained as she rocked
against the rope as I thrust into her.
"Does it like this?" I asked as I pinched her nipples hard and
then twisted them.
"OWW! Please! Please! I'm sorry! Ow! Ow! Ow!" she yelped
as I dropped her and fucked her.
It was the same I remembered. It was an unhappy and
therefore tighter than usual and her cries were like music as I
thrust into her captive cunt.
I relented after a particularly heartfelt plea, but that was a
deception of its own kind. I reached up and undid the rope holding her
hair only to throw her across the couch. I hadn't been slapping into her
spanked ass hard enough.
She screamed pleasingly when I did. I'm sure it quite a bit.
I had not been gentle with the rug beater and I was being as far from
gentle as I could manage now. The sound of my belly slapping her ass
was nearly as sharp as her scream.
When I came, it was anti-climax. It was good enough, but it
made the game over.
"Stay that way," I warned her to keep some of the fun alive.
But even her spraddle-legged pose laying over the end of the
couch with her butt up and her raw and leaking was little
consolation for ending the fun I had been having.
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