I pushed her black lace panties down off of her ass, told my slave how cute she looked, pants around her ankles, panties pulled down, breathlessly waiting for her spanking. Her only reply was a whimper.
I took some more pictures.
Then I began to redden her ass.
I love floggers and paddles; canes, straps, and belts; all the various traditional forms of discipline and punishment associated with BDSM and sadomasochism. I have a pair of skin tight motorcycle cop gloves that are great for spanking too, powerful imagery and powerful feelings for my slave to be manhandled by hands encased in sexy leather. But, there really is something special about the feeling and intimacy that comes with a bare handed spanking.
Normally I like to take my time, to savor each and every blow I deliver to a woman’s ass when I want to deliver a powerful spanking, but I also know that it’s very effective to alter my patterns as a dominant, it keeps my slave guessing, it keeps things fresh.
So, there was nothing slow and languid about this spanking, there was no massage oil rubbed into the aching cheeks during a brief respite, there was no quiet interaction or intimacy. There were just grunts and groans, whimpers and moans, as I spanked Serafina hard and fast.
I did take a break (or two) to take pictures, and trace the outline of the hand prints that appeared on her flesh. When I reached down briefly to tickle her clit, she responded with a grateful, “Thank you, Master!”
I returned to reddening her ass.
I rained sharp blows down upon my slave's ass, eliciting sharp intakes of her breath, grunts, groans, whimpers and finally the words, “Mercy, Master!” This is the way I allow Serafina to signal me that she is at the edge of what she can endure. I call it a “soft safe word” because it won’t stop a scene, it won’t even necessarily stop what I’m doing, it simply lets me know that to go farther would bring about real and severe distress.
Now I think I’ve already “outed” myself here as a bit of a sadist in addition to being a dominant. That means that saying “mercy” just once doesn’t always stop me with Serafina, creating the strong sensations that elicit the plea satisfies the sadist, while the actual begging the sensations can elicit certainly do something for the dom inside me.
I didn’t make poor Serafina beg this day, just hearing that single plea for mercy satisfied me. I wasn’t feeling like being exposed here for too long was a very good idea. This particular river access sits in the “shadow” of a large power plant, and while I knew that we were concealed from the views of anyone who might be on the river or in the parking lot, I also knew that we might be giving a good show to a couple of guys in a watch tower that was added to the power plant after 9-11.
As I unzipped my pants, I asked my slave/wife if she remembered me pointing out the guard tower as we drove around the perimeter of the plant before we arrived at the river access. She said; “Yes, Master!” immediately. The I watched as she slowly realized the implications of what I had said.
I watched her body tense as she realized she might have been putting on a lewd show for a pair of bored and lonely guards on Thanksgiving. I listed to her whimper, saw her shiver, and then succumbed to the the drama of the situation and the charms exposed before me.
Yes, I fucked my slave there in the woods, thrusting myself in with one strong sure push, then enjoying the warmth of her reddened ass against my crotch as I pushed in balls deep. Knowing what I like a woman to do, Serafina pushed back hard against me, impaling herself on my throbbing cock.
Then I told her to close her eyes.
I began to spin a story to my slave as I used her from behind. Telling her that the guards were driving down to investigate. As she whimpered and moaned underneath me, I told Serafina how they were going to line up behind me, waiting for their turn to use her when I was done. I felt a shudder go through her entire body, a lovely sensation for me, when embedded deeply inside.
I called her slut, saying I could feel that she wanted to be used like that. She whimpered again, a higher pitched desperate whine followed. She was afraid of where my story might go, she was afraid I might make her live it out someday.
As I fucked her deeply, grinding against her before pulling out to the tip, thrusting in again to the hilt. I called her whore, continuing to slap her the side of her ass as I drove in and out of her, telling her to move her hips, to clench her cunt.
I felt her shiver underneath me again. Knowing my property well, I knew that between the shiver and the rhythmic grasping of her cunt, that she was close to orgasm. While Serafina is trained to only cum on command, to always ask permission before allowing herself that pleasure, I wanted there to be no mistake about my intent.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I said, growling in her ear. She knew exactly what I meant, her whimpers and shivers now turning to grunts and shudders. She ground against me with moves worthy of a porn star, fucking just like the names I was calling her.
At that point, I allowed myself to get lost in the pleasure my slave can provide. I can no longer recall the words I said, the names I used, the actions I made. Ultimately, I took my pleasure inside my property, pulling out to wipe the last dribbles across her ass.
I stepped back, admiring the red glow of her pale flesh, as well as the obvious signs of her recent use, just now starting to drip down her backside. I told her to stay still and wait for me while I took more pictures, evidence of her use for online friends.
When I was satisfied that I’d documented the ultimate results our Spanksgiving Day celebration, and that she’d been left just a little longer than I needed for that purpose, left bent over a damp log, well spanked and well used, I told her to stand up.
I chided my slut for being such a brazen whore, for standing there exposed in the woods for anyone who wandered by to see. Then I did allow her the modesty of pulling up her panties and pants, not however, allowing her to wipe or clean up the mess I’d made on her ass.
“You’ll wear that with pride, just like the whore you are,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she replied. |
