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It was as if he'd separated her buttocks into quadrants, his hand coming down on each of them in turn. Lower right, upper right, upper left, lower left.
Digging her fingers into the bedclothes as her bottom began to heat, the hard smacks stinging and burning, Eleanor couldn't stop the small distressed sounds that her husband's spanking elicited. His hand was very strong, very firm, and as powerful as a board. Bending over the bed like this was much less intimate than being over his lap, removing the distraction of having his hard body pressed against her.
SMACK! SMACK!
The slaps to the sensitive crease between her thighs and buttocks rocked her forward again and she gave out a little cry, burying her face into the bed sheets. That bloody hurt! And yet...
As Edwin rubbed his wife's buttocks, admiring the pinkish hue they had taken on, he also noticed that beneath those rosy cheeks her womanhood was beginning to dew with wetness. Knowing that she couldn't see his face he grinned, thanking whatever saint was responsible for his luck in having Eleanor to wife. Still, she would feel roundly disciplined by the end of this session, of that he was determined. Digging his fingers into her flesh, he almost groaned at the soft sound she made, a cross between pleasure and pain as he further abused her bottom.
Raising his hand again he brought it down hard, his eyes lingering over the darker pink of his prints every time he landed a fresh smack on her flesh.
"OW!" Eleanor thrust her hands back, covering her bottom protectively. "I thought you were done!"
"Not yet, now move your hands Eleanor."
"But I'm sorry! I won't wear a dress like that again, I promise!" Despite her words, Edwin noted that his wife sounded much more outraged than remorseful. She was mad because she thought he’d stopped and she was willing to say whatever she needed to make that a reality.
"I'm not saying you can't wear it, just not where anyone other than I will see you," he said as he took her hands by her wrists and put them back on either side of her head. As he leaned forward to do so she turned her head just enough to glare at him, making it obvious that she currently had no intention of allowing him to enjoy the sight of her in such a revealing garment. Edwin manfully swallowed the laugh that threatened and raised one sardonic eyebrow at her. Flushing, Eleanor turned her face back to the bed and put her hands around it to keep him from being able to see her at all. "Ten more."
His wife made a little sound, which he decided to ignore although he was fairly certain that she'd just cursed at him. At least she hadn't done it loudly enough for him to hear, in which case he would have felt obliged to add to the number of slaps her buttocks would receive.
Eleanor struggled not to cry out as Edwin peppered the last flurry of spankings onto her already hot and pain-filled bottom. To her frustration, despite the fact that it hurt and was incredibly undignified, not to mention infuriating, one part of her body seemed to enjoy it. Even though she wasn't over his lap she knew that she was moist between her legs, her sheath priming itself for him the same way it did when he caressed and kissed her. The strange response was the worst part of the punishment as far as she was concerned, especia
lly because she was quite sure that her husband's all-too-observant eyes couldn't fail to miss the evidence of her arousal.
Once he was done she let her weight drop onto the bed, ignoring the tears that were already sparking into her eyes. Reaching back she rubbed at the hot, tight skin across her punished globes, trying to soothe the ache. Almost immediately Edwin had her wrists in his hand again.
"Absolutely not, Eleanor," he said in a cold voice. "I know you know better than to rub." It was easy for him to wrap the long fingers of one hand around both of her wrists, holding her arms so that they bent at the elbow and her hands were pressed against the small of her back. "Do you need me to hold your hands during the birching?"
"No," she said decisively, shaking her head as if to shake the tears from her eyes. Somehow having Edwin hold her in place so easily only made the situation more humiliating and she knew from the birchings she'd received at her father's hand that she could hold herself in place with nothing more than sheer determination.
For a moment Edwin held onto his wife's tiny wrists, marveling at how slim and bird-like her arms were. Part of him wanted to continue holding her in place, enjoying the domination over her, but if she wanted to try and control herself then he was inclined to let her. Besides, he would have a better view of her luscious bottom if he could step away a bit. The idea of tying her in place was extremely appealing, but he didn’t want her to associate bondage with pain, not unless she required it. Reluctantly releasing her, he picked up the swishy birch. The branches were quite whippy and he knew they would sting but not cause any undue damage.
"Spread your legs," he ordered. "And point your toes in."
Remembering the first time he'd seen Eleanor birched, in a position very similar to this, he couldn't stop the throb of heat that went straight to his cock. Perhaps he shouldn't be enjoying her punishment quite as much as he was but Eleanor was an extremely attractive and sensual woman, and even a punishment became an erotic experience with her. The creaminess of her skin around her rosy bottom, the flash of wet pink flesh at the center of her cuntpurse, the swollen lips pouting enticingly from their frame of damp, honey-gold curls; all of it seemed designed to raise a man's ardor, no matter the circumstances. As he raised his arm he wondered if she would be as wet and aroused after her birching as she was after her spankings.
The birch fell across her pink bottom, leaving streaks of darker red as Eleanor let out a gasping cry. Her body bowed backwards a little, her fingers digging into the bed sheets. A second blow fell across her quivering bottom, slightly higher than the first, leaving new dark welts across her flesh, stinging like a thousand angry bees attacking the already sensitized skin of her bottom. With every strike her body jerked, although the birch fell five times before she truly cried out, her muscles flexing as she did her best to hold herself in position.
"I'm sorry!" she said, her voice muffled by the bed sheets, desperate for the punishment to end, hoping that a spontaneous apology might end the lashing across her burning skin. Still, even now, contrite as she was, her pride couldn't quite allow herself to speak clearly or to face her husband. Another stroke fell across her already flaming bottom and she choked back an outraged protest. Eleanor was becoming quite heartily sorry that she'd provoked her husband in such a manner; why couldn't she have been more patient? Why did she have to make a production of things? She'd regretted the menu almost as soon as her fantasy had been made into reality, why hadn't she realized beforehand that such a plan would not only result in a disciplining from her husband, but also the uncomfortable guilt?
A blow landed diagonally across the pouting folds of her sex, making Eleanor howl and causing the pouting lips to plump, an angry pink beneath the thatch of golden hairs. Edwin had remembered the way her father had deliberately laid one line across that sensitive area, the way she had reacted to that punishment. The tension in her body seemed to collapse and Eleanor no longer braced herself against the bed but lay across it, submitting to the birch as Edwin delivered the last three blows across her welted and burning red bottom.
By the time he was finished he was breathing heavily, staring at his wife's lusciously tormented flesh as he dropped the birch to the ground beneath him. Kneeling behind her, blood seemed to pound in his ears as he gripped her bottom cheeks in both hands, squeezing the tender flesh and making her writhe. The heat seemed to sear his palms, the musky humidity of her quim calling to him. Everything about her was hot and squirming, inflaming his loins in a way that savaged his self-control.
"Edwin..." she said in a shaky voice as her husband squeezed her bottom, bringing with it a fresh surge of pain and yet something else too, something that tingled along her nerves all the way up her spine and left her feeling breathless.
But surely... surely he couldn't want to do that right now.
His hands pushed at her skin, separating her buttocks and she could feel his hot breath on her open sex. Eleanor cried out a protest, trying to push herself up as Edwin leaned forward and planted his mouth onto her swollen folds, his tongue sliding up the center and wreaking havoc with her sense. Bent over, completely exposed, her bottom throbbed painfully as Edwin began an erotic assault below it, his weight on his hands pressing her hips into the bed and making it impossible for her to escape this new humiliation as her body betrayed her.
"Edwin, no... we can't... you just punished me..." Eleanor clawed at the bed sheets, her legs trembling with weakness as his tongue pressed into her. If she had been supporting her own weight she would have fallen as pure pleasure lashed through her with stunning swiftness, mingling with the ache in her buttocks and confusing her utterly. Despite the tears of pain that were still clinging to her eyelashes, the flames of desire in her core were already igniting, craving the tender tracings of his tongue, the rough abrasion of his hands against her skin.
"And now you're forgiven," he purred from behind her, slipping two fingers into her sopping heat and groaning with lust as she contracted around him. Fascinated by the welts on her bottom he began tracing them with his tongue, feeling the struggle in her flesh as she attempted to throw off the erotic need that had awakened inside of her, trying to grasp her outrage and dignity. Edwin did his best to thwart her efforts, pumping his fingers back and forth in her hot tunnel as he licked and kissed the bruised flesh of her bottom, massaging it with his free hand.
"Nnooooooo," Eleanor said, moaning, but it was as much a protest against herself as it was against him. Her husband had long since learned how to snare her senses; she was melting beneath his caresses, his hand gentling as he rubbed her abused rear in an almost comforting manner. The clever fingers inside of her curved and twisted, making Eleanor writhe like a cat in heat before him, unable to control her responses as her hips began to move of their own accord, meeting the thrust of his fingers.
"Very good wife." Edwin's voice was like the chocolate drink she had with breakfast, sinking into her with a melting heat and filling her belly with warmth. Every time his hand rubbed over a particularly tender spot on her bottom she shuddered and her body tightened around his fingers. "You like that it hurts, don't you? You just don't want to admit it."
