#510) This Afternoon Followed This Morning (continuing #507)

Three cane stripes burned across my buttocks, making it difficult to concentrate on work. Robert was working from home, as he usually did, but I decided to do the same so I could watch the day-long TV coverage of Queen Elizabeth’s funeral. He’d given me three stripes (along with some other chastisements) purposefully. The first one informed me of how hard he’d be giving them to me, the next two as a challenge to hold still for it and accept the pain stoically. All this was a prelude to the fuckery we’d enjoyed during the TV broadcast of the elaborate funeral blaring from the other room.
But, as is sometimes the case, this taste of the cane only created a hunger for more. Sometimes I become a glutton for punishment, greedy for the pain. Robert knows this about me. However, he seemed surprised when I walked into the sanctity of his study bearing the cane in front of my nude form.
In my best fake British accent, I did my best “David Copperfield impersonation, “Please, Sir, I want some more…”
If he was surprised, he didn’t say anything, just accepted the rod and stood up from his computer station, while I bent over and grabbed my ankles in the center of the room. The cane tapped my tender butt flesh as he took aim.
“Do you think we were blasphemous enjoying ourselves so boisterously this morning?” Swish! Thwack! “Ow! One, Sir!”
“Blasphemy is against God, the Queen wasn’t God,” he said as I absorbed the blinding pain and re-assumed my position.
“Sacrilegious, then…?” Swish! Thwack! “Ummm!” I danced in place. “Two, thank you, Sir!”
“That’d be disrespect of the Anglican church. We were appreciating their beautiful funeral, the music, the pomp and pageantry…”
“You know what I mean!” I stomped my bare foot for emphasis. “Was I naughty wanting to frolic and fuck during a funeral?” I bent, arched my butt out, received a swift answer with another cane lick, Thwack! “Yeow! Three, Sir, may I have another?”
“Oh, you’re getting a butt-full, young lady… Was she your Queen, do you revere her?”
“Respected her, I liked her… Much more than Charles… I guess I’ve never forgiven him for mistreating Diana…” Swish! Thwack! “Ouchie! That’s four, Sir, thank you!” I danced some more.
“We’re American. It’s our place to thumb our noses at royalty and protocol and silly rules…”
“But then we’re dangerously close to being ugly Americans, boors, classless…” Swish! Thwack! “Five! That really stings, Sir…” I was signaling that I was near my limit.
“You were the one who asked for this, bend over, several more…”
I obeyed. He gave them to me one right after the other, THWACK, THWACK, THWACK!
I stood, howled, clutched my bottom, danced. Robert handed the hot cane back to me. I noticed the protrusion in his trousers. I felt I’d caused this, thought I ought to try to remedy it. I sank to my knees, unzipped his fly, took his largess into my mouth.
“Um, that’s nice…” he sighed with eyes closed. I know that my cock-sucking abilities are just nice, not rip-snorting. I’d done what I wanted to do, which was to get him hard.
I laid back on the carpet and opened for my lover, “Wanna fuck again?” I cocked my legs up into the air. “Pick an orifice…”
Robert slid himself into my wet pussy, it was my turn to sigh and close my eyes. “I don’t wanna pick, I want both…”
That popped my eyes open wide. We usually share anal intercourse about once every two weeks or so. It’s delicate back there. I don’t want hemorrhoids. It’d been a really rigorous romp there this morning. But I’d cavalierly brought it up, just as I had the cane. I put it out of my mind as we found our rhythm and fucked energetically, passionately, like we hadn’t done it in months instead of mere hours. I came and we switched positions. I came again, feeling my copious juices trickle down across my perineum and tickle my anus. Normally this drives me crazy, now I was thankful for whatever lube I could provide. I knew what was coming, I could hear Robert start to huff and puff hoarsely, he was getting close.
He roughly pulled out and turned me over. I put my ass in the air. He parted my cheeks and spit on my bullseye. I felt his erection touch me there, start to press. I felt him sink into me, possess me where I feel so vulnerable, where I feel most private, where I only share this with him.
“Fuck me, lover! I love you so much!”
The intensity of the act pulled these words out of me. We again found our unifying, syncopated pace. I didn’t care if it’d hurt, I wanted to give my man the best butt fuck of his life. I bore down, gripped him firmly, rocked back and forth rigorously. I willed the climax out of him. He interlaced his fingers in mine. If he was a stallion, I would have expected him to bite my shoulder and whinny as he fucked me. Instead, he groaned and filled my bowels with ejaculate. I put our hands over my pussy so he could feel it spasm and pulse, as I joined him in bliss. We collapsed into a pile of sweaty, snorting, satisfied soulmates.
When I could talk again, I muttered, “…Well, I think that’ll hold me… for the next few hours at least…” He chortled. If I had been naughty this morning, I felt I’d paid for it now. I felt purified.

4 responses to “#510) This Afternoon Followed This Morning (continuing #507)”

  1. As I read this just now I began to admire your writing skills and style. Your expansive vocabulary, using just the right words to describe not only actions but your emotions. The description of the final climax was outstanding as the length of the sentences matched the pace of the action and the intensity of the flow of excitement and attainment.
    Well done m’lady! Very well done indeed! Thanx bunches for this wonderfully written post!

    Liked by 1 person

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