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I watch as he moves away from me, walks into the small kitchen, and grabs a wooden spoon. My dick bobs and jumps at what’s to come.
Fuck yes, I think, even as my head shakes back and forth.
Hell no! Fuck this.
“You need this,” he says softly and then unties my ankles and flips me over without another word so my ass is exposed. Why was that so easy? I should have fought harder, should have resisted. Because within seconds, my boxers are yanked down to my knees and I’m bare, my hard cock pressed into the mattress, my wrists screaming at me as I remember to fight.
“It’s futile to struggle.”
Fuck you, my mind screams, my whines filling the room.
I so fucking want this. Need it.
“I’ll spank you until you’ve learned your lesson, do you understand?”
I won’t ever learn, my mind screams as he removes the rag from my mouth, allowing me to gulp down air.
“Do you understand?”
I hiss at him, calling him more foul names—creative ones I’ve made up on the fly, like poop nugget and garbage butt—and writhing against my restraints, until the first hit lands. The sound of the wooden spoon whistling through the air and hitting my ass makes my entire body arch up, a howl escaping my mouth. Fuck, he’s not going easy on me. This isn’t like those porn videos I jack off to. This is fucking serious.
He doesn’t even give me a chance to breathe, just hits me again on my other cheek. My eyes water from the sting, the pain shooting straight to my balls and up my lower back. My cockachesbeneath me.
Do not give in so easily. Fight. Make it harder for him. Make him work for it!
I kick out my legs, trying to free myself, but he simply ties my ankles down again so I’m unable to move. I’m just sprawled out, helpless, waiting for this to be over.
Relishing in every second.
Oh, who am I fucking kidding? I love this.
The spoon drags over my ass, gently like a feather, and then it’s gone as another lands and another. He doesn’t let up until I’m screaming, the pain almost unbearable, the eroticism almost too much to take. I’m so fucking turned on that I can’t breathe. I’m just a mess of unwilling tears and aching skin. I want to come.
I need to.
Suddenly it stops, Skylar’s chest heaving as he reaches down and traces a finger over my unquestionably red and welted skin.
“It will hurt to sit later,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else. “Unless I keep you tied up…”
I moan as he squeezes the sensitive skin, jiggling my ass slightly. Through my wet lashes I can see him worrying his bottom lip, almost as if he’s deep in thought. This isn’t philosophy, Skylar. I just want my dick to be free.
“Let me go,” I say, my voice broken and raspy from shouting and screaming.
“I will, but have you learned your lesson yet?” he asks after a moment, his hand replaced by the spoon once more. The handle drags through my crack and presses up against my hole, and I moan like the slut I’ve become.
“Will you be a good boy?”
I whimper a sad, pathetic, desperate sound. “Never.”
He lets out a small huff and then taps my ass with the spoon gently. Once. Twice. Fuck. Fuck this. I hate this. Hate that I love it so much.
“You’re not that good of a liar.” He reaches down and unties my legs before flipping me over. My dick is leaking, my balls drawn up tight. Tears have traitorously tracked down my cheeks and onto my neck. I know that I look fucking wrecked. That I’m completely ruined.
He sees it all, sees what he did to me, and never in all my years have I ever felt more vulnerable.
The spoon drags up my cock and presses against the head, pushing it to my stomach.
“You liked it?” he asks, almost surprised at the turn of events. “Perhaps this wasn’t a punishment after all.”
