#579) His Whipping Girl

I’m a rule-abider, a good girl, so Robert is sometimes at a loss to find reasons to spank me good and hard. If a while has gone by since I’ve gotten it good, I’ll whisper to my lover, “Please spank the snot out of me, Robert.” That’s a code we’ve developed; it means that I need a punishment spanking so hard that it’ll make the mucus flow. You’ve seen the photos of a girl getting her butt beaten and a big gob of snot is hanging down from her nose. I’m too proud to let that happen, I suck it down my throat, but we both know what I mean. (I don’t use the phrase ‘spank the sh*t out of me’ because I think that’s crude. I don’t even use the French translation of the word, ‘merde’ when I curse. I usually say ‘sugar’ to express my anger.)
So, it was about that time yesterday. I hadn’t had my butt blistered in too long a time. I was feeling mischievous and naughty. But instead of making the usual request of my loving Top, I told him this story.
I have a friend named Asa. He publishes the Spanking Emporium blog. He emailed me to say that WordPress had suspended his site. He was famous for posting very erotic, very revealing photos of several women. I’ve republished a few here, such as Cherry in a schoolgirl outfit. We commiserated that WordPress can be rather arbitrary and harsh with the enforcement of ambiguous rules. So I told Robert that I wanted to role-play across the Internet with my long-time friend. Robert gave me permission to play long-distance. I imagine walking into Asa’s new studio (one he’d just moved into because his old neighbors had complained that he was taking risqué photos at his former abode), and stripping my clothes off as I approached him sitting forlornly in a chair.
“Hello there, my dear,” I say. He looks up and brightens up. He starts to speak, but I cut him off. “Listen to what I have to say, please… You’ve had a rough time of it lately. I know that you must be mad and frustrated and looking for a way to get it all out. And ironically, I’ve been in need of a good bum blistering. Robert has given me carte blanche to submit to you, Asa. Sit up so that your lap is available, so I can lay over it…”
He does and I do, arching my round arse up right in his now-smiling face, then snuggling my pussy down onto his thigh muscle. All of the women he usually takes photos of are English lasses with comfortably soft and curvy bodies. He isn’t used to seeing an American with an athletic figure and a callipygous arse. He stares at it as if mesmerized.
“I want to be your whipping girl, my dear friend… I want you to take out all your pent-up angst on my deserving bum… I need a blistering, you can’t spank me hard enough…”
Asa takes me at my word. His left hand pins me in place, as his right starts walloping my butt. I grit my teeth, but he still rattles them. He beats a tattoo into my previously-unmarked, blemish-less tush. It’s a big butt, it can take a lot of punishment, and that is exactly what Asa dishes-out. It’s just what I needed. I let the floodgates open and enjoy a cleansing cry as Asa works my bottom into a mottled mass, a purple-blotchy pair of butt cheeks. He starts to tear-up as he expresses all of his feelings, from anger at the bureaucrats, to empathy with me.
When we are both utterly exhausted, he stops, and rests his hot hand on my flaming rear-end.
“Feel better?” I solicit through my sobs. Asa nods. “Good! I do, too!” Asa parts my cheeks with both hands to glimpse my anal dimple and engorged sex. His fingers inch down into that ravine, desiring to tickle both orifices. “No, no, no,” I smilingly admonish, “I came here only for a spanking, nothing more…”
“You can’t fault me for trying. There may be snow on my roof, but there’s still a fire in the furnace…”
I stand up and am powerless not to rub my seared seat. I lean down and kiss Asa’s forehead. “I love you and care about you,” I sniff, then take Robert’s hand and stroll out of Asa’s studio with my lover. We can only get as far as the garden before passion overcomes us. I unleash his rampant manhood from his constraining trousers and guide it into my dripping sex. We fuck in a lovely, fog-shrouded garden. I feel like I’ve done a good deed for someone who needed it, who doesn’t deserve the bad karma coming his way. True to form, my good deed came back and I was rewarded with a truly satisfying fuck with the man of my dreams. We are all three smiling as my love and I saunter away, my panties still down, off my throbbing backside.

2 responses to “#579) His Whipping Girl”

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