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I knew then that this morning had simply been a warning, a few hard slaps that were nothing more than a tiny glimpse of what he was capable of.
I was so much more sensitive. Every hard spank felt like it hurt more than it possibly could, and I wailed as the true nature of my punishment reared its head. His hand was ruthless, painting up and down my cheeks with cruel intent. He didn’t leave a single inch of my backside unpunished. When he chastised the place where my lower cheeks met the tops of my thighs, I didn’t think it could get any worse.
Then he started on the backs of my thighs.
There was no being brave or staying strong through this. Honestly, I hadn’t even had a chance to think about keeping quiet or even staying still through something like this. By the time I tried to bite my lip to keep myself from crying out, I was already gasping and whining loud enough for him to hear. One of his hands gripped my hip, holding me down as I struggled to take the harsh punishment. My toes drilled against the floor, and I forgot about keeping silent and stoic as I wailed from a particularly stinging smack against the back of one thigh.
“Please! Cyrus! I’m sorry!” I cried out.
“Your bottom is barely even pink, bad girl,” he answered.
Wanting to escape his hold, I tried to crawl forward. Without missing a beat, he resituated me over one leg and slid the other leg over the backs of mine, pinning me in place. Now I couldn’t even kick my legs.
I was utterly helpless.
I gasped in fear and arousal, trying to reconcile with my confusing feelings and failing. On one hand, I felt safe and protected by his harsh discipline and on the other, an increasing sense of desire was quickly racing through me.
Just when I thought it couldn’t hurt anymore, he started spanking me even harder. I wailed, rocking my hips barely an inch in a failed attempt to escape every cruel blow. My ass was burning, like I’d sat in a campfire and couldn’t get out of it. His palm was massive, covering each cheek with a single spank. My thighs stung more than the rest and then it felt like the world crashed down on me.
I was a naughty girl getting her bare bottom spanked by the man who had just fucked her to sweet oblivion.
“I’m so sorry, sir.”
I don’t know why I’d called him that, but it felt right when I was bare over his knee like this.
“I know, Ava. I’ve already forgiven you,” he answered gently, but the spanking still didn’t end. Somewhere deep inside, I had known it wouldn’t and part of that was strangely comforting.
“Please,” I begged.
I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t think of anything because every single ounce of my focus was on the fire blazing across my upturned ass. I wailed, trying to accept the fact that it hurt, that I wasn’t in control and that it was only going to end when he decided it should.
His leg was a far more effective restraint than I could ever have imagined. It held my body firmly over his thighs so that I could hardly move an inch.
I sniffled as he punished me even harder, and I cried out when he moved down to my thighs almost exclusively. I tried to cope. I tried to plead for his forgiveness, but at this point the only thing left for me to do was survive and take it.
The utter lack of control got to me. I didn’t know when it would end or how much harder it would get.
My eyes watered. I blinked several times, trying to fight it, but his hand hurt so much.
“I’ve done nothing but take care of you, and you decided to lie to me,” he scolded.
My guilt felt more intense than ever.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying to you,” I wailed. I arched my back as much as I could, wanting to present my bottom to him, to show him that I understand why I was over his knee with my bottom bare like a very bad little girl.
He punished the bottom curves of my cheeks especially hard after that.
I cried out and the first tear slid down my cheek. It was quickly followed by a second and a third, and then an eventual torrent of them.
The spanking didn’t stop completely, but it slowed. Each slap was harder, sinking deep into my bottom in a way that left me with no doubt that I’d feel it long after he was done. I sobbed harder. There were no forming words at this point, but really, I didn’t need to.
The spanking had brought my tears to the surface. It hurt, but that’s not why I was crying.
I sobbed because of the stress and fear and anger I felt toward the whole situation with Anthony. I sobbed at being unable to help myself and because he’d taken my life and turned it on its head.
I cried so hard that I didn’t actually realize the spanking had ended until Cyrus wrapped me up in his arms and situated me on his lap.
“That’s my good girl. It’s over now. I’ve got you.”
