#615) Untitled Fiction

As she came into their house, Amy flashed-back to her grandparent’s place. When her farmer-grandpa came in from the barn, he went straight into the “muck room” to remove his boots and overalls. Amy proceeded to take off all her clothes, as her Top had instructed, and slip off her flats and into a tall pair of stiletto heels. She had to admit that this edict from her dominant-lover did make her feels sexy. They had a muck room and Roy and I have a “fuck shack,” a derivation of the B-52’s hit “Love Shack,” she told herself.
She saw Roy sitting in his study, and knowing better than to make him call for her, she slowly walked to his chair-side and waited.
“Please don’t spank me again, please don’t spank me again, my butt is still so sore, please don’t spank me again…” she fervently said to herself. He looked up at her and smiled, she looked down at him with knots in her tummy, accepted his assisting hand to lay over his lap.
Roy massaged her heavily bruised bottom, which was almost as excruciating as another spanking, then parted her wide and extracted the butt plug that she’d worn all day from her rectum. Her orifice was nearly numb; she could barely feel his ticklish exploration. He inserted a thermometer and patted her tush to signal that she could arise. Amy had grown-up loving having a rectal thermometer in place; it aroused her (as the thought of spanking did) from an age way before puberty. This time it was particularly devious on Roy’s part because the thin glass tube made Amy clench her buttocks in order to hold it in, and clenching hurt.
They both walked arm-in-arm to the kitchen, where they washed their hands and began prepping dinner together. It was a simple but wholesome meal of baked fish, asparagus, bulghur wheat, and double-fudge ice cream for dessert. The only unusual thing about the meal was that, because Amy wanted to eat it standing-up, Roy joined her, and they kissed and made-out between bites. As Amy was still finishing her dessert, her lover, who had wolfed down the cold treat, dropped to his knees and licked her sore fanny with an icy tongue. As a coup de grace, he wrenched the thermometer out of her ass with his teeth.
“God, I love you…” she sighed, barely able to resist the urge to rub her throbbing clit.
“Have you been a good girl today?” he asked, and his hot breath made goosebumps rise on her cheeks. He felt Amy tense involuntarily, ever so slightly.
“I’ve tried to be…” she whispered, and they were both aware of her lack of definitive assurance.
He rose to his feet and took his lover by the hand, “Let’s take a look at your blog…”
Back in the wood paneled study, Roy brought up her kinky blog on the Internet. True to form, Amy had found moments throughout her workday to post her thoughts. True to her headstrong nature, many of those thoughts were anything but submissive.
“Please don’t spank me too hard, please don’t spank me too hard, my butt is still so sore, please don’t spank me too hard…” she repeated like a mantra in her head as she again accepted his help laying over his lap.
If you asked Roy, he’d have said that he only used his hand, only about fifty brisk glancing blows, that he adored her ass and hated to have to be hard on it, loved Amy passionately but needed to set clear-cut limits for her.
If you asked Amy, she’d have said that it was a brutal beating, just like the ones Roy’d administered morning, evening, and at bedtime for the past several days in a row, ever since he’d returned home from a business trip. But by the end of the spanking, she’d have said that she’d gotten a bug up her ass and that her lover had squashed it for her. She didn’t know if it had to do with her cycle, or biorhythms, or her diet, or what, but every now and again, Amy would get bitchy, and Roy would have to cure it with harder than usual measures. And she actually did say something else, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m really, really sorry!”
Roy picked the lithe-but-bottom-heavy girl up his arms and carried her to their bedroom. There, he placed her gingerly on the bed, disrobed, and made love to her. Maybe her misbehaviors were some psychological way of structuring their passionate reunion, corporal and cosmic. They were cuddling close afterward, Roy was rubbing Arnica cream into her bruised backside and kissing the top of her head, as Amy was hiccuping contentedly, when something suddenly struck the Top.
“I almost forgot in all this drama…” he mumbled, leaping up out of bed and going into the other room. He came back with one of those brightly colored paper bags that have replaced gift-wrapping these days and gave it to her. “I got this for you today,” he said.
Amy seemed genuinely surprised at the gesture, and just as genuinely pleased when she brought out a rhinestone studded breast harness that clipped onto her nipples sensually.
“I love it,” she whispered, tearing-up anew. “I don’t normally like much jewelry, but this is perfect!” She kissed her thanks all over Roy’s face.
“Yeah… about that… I know that you normally don’t wear jewelry, but…” Roy stammered. “I was hoping you’d like this little piece of jewelry just as much…” He produced a small, velvet covered box, opened it, and got down on one knee at bedside. An empire cut diamond ring glistened back at Amy, seeming all the more breath-taking seen through shimmering eyes.

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