Lucy’s Choice

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Of course, it was all her fault. Looking back there’s no doubt – oh the irony – she’d been the catalyst.

“Well if I’m so naughty you’d better spank me then,” Lucy had giggled, then – realising what she’d just said – froze in mid sentence; stomach doing somersaults, hand over her mouth.

A few months into the relationship the pair were still in the first flush of mutual passion; the sex frequent, amazing (and frequently amazing). Wearing nothing but a blouse she’d flitted around the bedroom, wriggling her bottom provocatively and encouraging her man to give chase.

“Come here you naughty girl,” Greg had said in mock exasperation – hence her instinctive reply.

The word ‘spank’ seemed to echo in the seemingly endless silence that followed her unfiltered outburst. Christ, thought Lucy, what have I done? How could I have given voice to such an intimate fantasy?

He’d regarded her with a quizzical expression, eyebrows raised, the merest hint of a smile, letting the tension build before taking Lucy’s hand, leading her meekly towards the sofa and pulling her over his knee – they were on their way.

And today… Wow, he’d spanked her hard this morning. Surreptitiously looking left Lucy can just glimpse her reflection in the mirror; hands on head, knickers hobbling her ankles, bottom glowing and visibly red.

She’s wearing her favourite figure-hugging dress, currently bunched around her waist. Lucy has always been dissatisfied with her small boobs – a pointless concern as her man clearly isn’t. Besides, as Greg had pointed out, the fabric clings closely to her contours, showcasing what he encouragingly described as her “quite specular derriere, a perfect peach of posterior”. Fuller than one might have expected of such an otherwise slender silhouette and the subject of many an admiring double take from strangers in the street. No wonder he enjoys spanking her.

Minutes earlier Greg had firmly pinned her face down across his lap. Not one to meekly accept her fate Lucy struggled and protested as his hand fell and the heat in her burning backside increased. First pleading for mercy, then desperately promising to do anything he asked if Greg would please just stop smacking her bare bottom. Wear short skirts for week, give him the he best blowjob ever, even, well, Lucy – hardly an innocent – blushed at the memory of what she’d suggested; all to no avail of course.

So here she was enduring 10 minutes, (felt like half an hour) of cornertime; hot and bothered but not daring to rub without permission.

From the other room Greg can also see Lucy reflected in the mirror. Watches her fidget apprehensively, wondering what will follow. Dishabille and soundly spanked Lucy is sexy as hell, Greg reflects contentedly, all the while carefully laying out their collection of punishment implements on a circular table.

They have, he muses, acquired quite a few. The hated hairbrush – varnish-smooth wooden backed – fierce and unyielding when bought into percussive contact with his beloved’s sit-upon.

A lovely little leather Starzbet paddle purchased in a Camden market; he’d forced her, embarrassed and red faced, to buy it in person, observing the purchase laconically from a distance and exchanging a knowing nod with the stallholder.

Then there’s a cane, tease whip, riding crop and – mustn’t forget – his belt. Which to choose? Well, that’s the best part, today he doesn’t have to, but, still wriggling distractedly in the other room, Lucy does…

A bleep on his watch jolts Greg from his reverie, a reminder that Lucy’s cornertime is at an end. “You can rub now,” he whispers, inhaling Chanel no 5 as he holds Lucy close. Gratefully she massages her ravaged rear.

“Oooh sore, that spanking went on for ages,” she says ruefully. Greg notices Lucy’s erect nipples are visible through the thin dress – being spanked has clearly had an aphrodisiac effect. But then as she once pithily observed: “Otherwise what would be the point?”

“Three weeks since your last chastisement,” he reminds her, “you get grouchy if I neglect my disciplinary duties.”

“True, but my punishments seem to be getting more severe,” she pouts, even in heels Lucy still only comes up to his shoulder.

He kisses her, cups her bottom then squeezes it tightly, eliciting a yelp of complaint. Lucy can feel Greg’s cock stiffening through his jeans and runs her hand seductively along its length.

In response he slides his hand up between her firm thighs, fingers easily slipping within her labia and up into the velvety, welcoming wetness. Lucy muscles instinctively contract, holding him there. “Ahhh…” A sharp intake of breath, “Oh yes please, my pussy so wants to be finger fucked.”

“Your pussy will get what it’s given, and when I choose. I’m not finished punishing you yet.

Lucy’s mouth form an affronted expression as his questing digits withdraw. He leads her sulkily into the other room and points out the instruments of correction.

“It’s very simple,” explains Greg, “today you make the decision.”

Devious sod, she thinks, always inventive – another wave of desire sweeps her. “But I don’t know how many strokes I’m getting,” she complains

“No,” agrees Greg, enjoying her predicament, “it’s a gamble.”

Lucy peruses the familiar spanking tools; the inflexible and unforgiving hairbrush is out for a start. The lovely bendy little paddle briefly engages her interest, until she recalls what a broad area it covers. OK applied to a ‘cold’ bottom, but not on an already superheated tush.

That brightly coloured little tease whip is, Lucy remembers, little more than a toy, then, just in time, manages to stop before choosing it. Mild across her buttocks maybe, but Greg likes to flick those whippy little tails across her pussy and humiliatingly deep into her bottom crease.

Perhaps the belt, neatly coiled on the table? No, too harsh and heavy, besides Lucy enjoys the thrilling ritual of having Greg slowly and purposefully draw it through his trouser loops.

How about the cane she Starzbet Giriş thinks rhetorically? No, no, no. Too scary, even in the hands of someone as expert as Greg. Perhaps if he hadn’t spanked her so thoroughly first but as it stands she thinks the bamboo would far too quickly go beyond her pain threshold.

Which – by process of elimination – must mean… “The crop,” she declares decisively.

“If only bookies took odds,” grins Greg, reaching into his pocket he produces a scrap of paper and hands it to Lucy. Opening it she see ‘riding crop’ written in capitals.

“My prediction, written half an hour ago” he announces smugly.

“Yes, all right Nostradamus, but let’s get this over with please; where do you want me and how many?’ she replies nervously.

“You’re in no position to get snippy with me young lady,” Greg warns, “over the back of the sofa, and we’ll see how well you take the strokes before I decide the total.

“Good,” he adds encouragingly as Lucy assumes the familiar posture, “arse up, head down, and keep those legs apart.”

Finally she’s arranged to his satisfaction. He swishes the crop experimentally through the air, watching her wince at the sound.

“Relax those bottom cheeks,” Greg commands. “I won’t start until you’re ready.”

Not an easy request of someone about to be whipped with a riding crop, thinks Lucy, doing her best to obey.

“Why did you choose the crop?”

“Because,” answers Lucy in an agony of anticipation, “it takes me where I wish to go, gradually. When applied skilfully, the way you always do, it builds a slow simmering heat, turning me on like nothing else.”

“Sure that’s all?

“Well, when you used it last…” she looks away, embarrassed, unable to maintain eye contact.

“Yes…” Greg presses the point, unsparing of her blushes.

“You, um,” her voice is scarcely more than a whisper, “punished my pussy. Carefully,” she adds hastily, “just with the those little leather flaps at the end.”

“And?’ Greg persists.

“Such an incredibly intense sensation, you really know how to indulge a girl’s inner masochist.”

“Since you ask so nicely…” Greg raises his arm.

Swit, swit, swit, Greg brings the crop down onto her exposed flesh, methodically working his way across the expanse of her naked buttocks, leaving red marks on the taut, flawless skin. Inevitably the crop soon revisits the site of previous impacts, drawing a vocal response from his spankee. To allow Lucy a brief respite Greg transfers his attention to her sensitive sit-spot and inner thighs occasioning wails of distress.

“Really,” he chides, “it’s not as if you haven’t been here before, if you don’t take your punishment properly I’ll have to prolong proceedings.”

Oh No! Lucy is already struggling to stay in place, each searing stroke making it increasingly difficult to retain any degree of dignity and self-control. As her hot bottom jerks lewdly under the crop’s fiery caress so a deep yearning suffuses her sex. Lucy’s arousal increases exponentially Starzbet Güncel Giriş with the growing hurt, scissoring legs revealing her most intimate places. Hates it, needs it, surely can’t take any more?

Greg coolly observes this transformation from submissive penitent to shameless hussy. Lucy will get what, deep down, they both know she ultimately desires, but must beg for it first; her total surrender the price of sexual release.

Swat, swat, swat. Another volley – right across the fullest expanse of her arse, words have become superfluous, it’s patently obvious Lucy is loosing it, caught in a miasma of pain and pleasure, jerking unabashedly across the upholstery, her breathing ragged, guttural cries and whimpers escaping her ruby red lips.

Finally, the coup de grace; just as his wanton partner wishes Greg carefully flicks the tip of the crop against her engorged, sopping sex. Half a dozen subtly stinging blows are all it takes; for the first time ever Lucy comes from the act of punishment alone.

He drops the crop, undoes his jeans and grasps Lucy firmly by the hips, stilling her gyrations, his intention clear. “Oh yes, please Greg, no more punishment, just fuck your bad little girl good and hard,” she pleads.

His rock hard cock nudges against her vagina, lubricated by Lucy’s copious juices. Greg slides in gradually but inexorably until the full length is rammed up inside her. Lucy pushes back vigorously determined to have every centimetre of him inside, filling and stretching her slick, tight vulva.

Her cunt has never felt so full, Lucy groans in delight as a series of intense spasms clench her pussy around his cock. Greg withdraws slightly then thrusts vigorously back in, fucking her forcefully, each lunge a prelude to all-encompassing waves of pleasure. Lucy is panting and moaning, pleading with him not to stop, imploring Greg to make her come.

Moments late Greg shudders as he floods her cunt. She screams, an orgasm rippling through her entire body like a shockwave, so powerful Lucy literally sees stars,

Later Lucy lies quietly next to her mister, satisfied and sated. “What have you got scheduled for me next?” she enquires coyly – it’s a long weekend and they’ve determined to make the most of it.

“Glad you asked,” – reaching into a bedside drawer Greg, retrieves a package – “open it.”

A rustle of paper is followed by a gasp of shock. “A butt plug,” Lucy exclaims, open-mouthed.

“And some lube,” he points out, helpfully. “Tomorrow you can go over my knee again while I put this little beauty in.”

Lucy conjures up a mental image; the whole idea so is rude – once again pushing her boundaries to the limit. “My bottom will still be sore from today,” an observation, notes Greg, not a refusal.

“I’ll be gentle,’ he promises, “we’ll go out for coffee, where you’ll no doubt fervently hope no one will guess what’s under your skirt while you squirm in your seat.”

“And after.” she whispers, lowering her long lashes.

“I’ll spank you with the plug in.”

“But I won’t have been bad,” she protests.

“You will be when I replace it with something else…”

Oh the anticipation, Lucy almost comes then and there.

Why be good when it’s so much more fun being naughty?

After all, it’s her choice.

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