I love a good spanking. Does that make me a bad feminist?
Just imagine the slap of skin on skin, your firm hand connecting with my yielding ass cheek, the resounding crack ringing around the room. My gasp of surprised pain and pleasure. My withheld breath as I anticipate the next one.
Will you have me across your lap, squirming to feel your erection beneath me, even though I know such misbehavior will bring more punishment? Or will you make me bend over the table, so you can survey me coolly, panties around my ankles and my pussy bared to your penetrating gaze as you contemplate your next move?
Will it get you hard to see that as my cheeks glow redder, my pussy grows wetter, moisture gleaming at the seam where my lips meet, threatening to spill out just as the tears of thwarted desire brim in my eyes? It’s the perversity of this game that turns me on, and I’m not ashamed to admit it, contradictory and reactionary though it may be.
And this outfit is perfect for it, don’t you agree?
I’m a capable, independent woman, as tough as anyone who’s grown up in a big city like London has to be. I can fight my own battles, literally; I train kickboxing with a bunch of burly guys and if I punched you, you’d know about it. And yet… I turn into a submissive little plaything when a strong man pulls down my panties and spanks my ass.
Maybe it’s the surrender of control I like; I enjoy being manhandled and physically dominated. Maybe it’s the naughty power dynamic; like any bad girl with daddy issues, I have a thing for older men who think they can control me, even though in the end they never can. Or maybe it’s just the incomparable sensation of a good spanking, that throbbing heat that triggers an answering flare of heat at my core, sending tingling tendrils of desire though my limbs. Whatever the origin of this idiosyncratic little kink, I fully own it now, letting any alpha-male partner who shows an inclination in that direction know that his discipline will be welcomed.
“I’ve been a bad girl. Spank me, daddy,” is usually all it takes to elicit a good hard smack on my receptive round bottom.
Skirt up, panties down is my preference for correctional games, the humiliation of my underwear bunched around my ankles and the enforced display of my buttocks and pussy feeding my arousal; but once in a while I’ll come across an item of lingerie that’s so perfect for getting spanked in that I just can’t resist.
This lace bodysuit covers my breasts and arms demurely, but it’s cut high on the hips, the thong back leaving my cheeks salaciously bare. I wear it with heels and a sassy smile, knowing he won’t be able to look away from my tanned buns from the moment I greet him at the door.
Sure enough, we don’t waste any time with social niceties as he hustles me to the bedroom and bends me over the dressing table. Sometimes I appreciate a long build-up of tension before a spanking, the apprehension and anticipation getting me dripping wet before my punishment even gets underway. But today it’s just the physical sensation I crave, his rough hands pawing at me, squeezing and spreading my ass cheeks apart to admire the way the bodysuit cuts between them, how it clings to the contours of my pussy.
“Slutty little girl needs her booty spanked, am I right?” he growls.
“Yes, daddy,” I say quietly, biting my tongue so as not to follow it with, please, oh god yes please, do it now!
He doesn’t even keep me waiting long before he starts to smack me, first on one cheek, then the other. The heat blooms immediately, flushing through my skin like ink through blotting paper; the pain follows a moment later, making me cry out softly and bite my lip, steeling myself against the next slap. I imagine it must be leaving vivid red handprints, and wish I could look in the vanity mirror, but I hold still until he’s satisfied with his handiwork. By then, my conscious mind has turned to mush and all I’m aware of is the stinging heat of my cheeks, and how much it’s turning me on.
He tells me to lie on the bed — face down, of course — and spends a while squeezing and stroking and spanking me, keeping me on edge, as I never know whether a tender touch or a rough one is coming next. He grabs the thong back of the bodysuit, sawing it up between my pussy lips so it drags on my clit; I’m grateful for the friction, but it’s penetration I crave now, and he knows it.
“Take off your lingerie,” he tells me, and I do, noticing how stiff my nipples are, how stickily the damp fabric clings to my pussy as I ease it from between my legs. I assume the position again, face down ass up, and I feel his eyes on me like a laser beam directed at my creamy slit, making me fight the urge to squirm.
“Dirty girl,” he says. “So eager to get fucked. Show me where you want my cock.”
I can’t resist the compelling tone of his voice any more than I can deny the pulsing desire to be filled. I skate a finger along the slick juncture of my pussy and it sinks between my lips almost too smoothly; I’m so drenched there’s none of the friction and pressure I need. I wriggle my hand further beneath me, crooking my thumb to grind the knuckle against my clit as I push two fingers into my wet cunt, quickly adding a third to increase the stretch.
He begins to spank me again as I finger-fuck myself as hard as I can in this position, meeting each rock of my hips with a harsh slap on my cheeks that makes me shudder and moan. What started as a calm, controlled meting out of precise slaps escalates to a frantic gallop, his blows raining down on my ass and making my hips jerk, my fingers clawing at my sugar walls to keep contact with my G-spot. The pressure builds inexorably until with a violent series of spasms I cum so hard I see starbursts behind my closed eyelids.
I’m like a puddle of molten lava in the aftermath. He centers me and then immediately knocks me off kilter again, by introducing his gently lapping tongue to my gooey entrance, then swiping it along my ass crack, making me wonder what he has planned for me next. I know he won’t stop until I’m begging for his cock. No doubt his cum will make the perfect salve for my sore cheeks…
And when the bad little girl’s finally been spanked out of me, and he’s fucked me into a delirious mess, I’ll be ready to become a strong woman again.
More confessions from me here — if you think you can handle it! Maybe have a cold shower first…
