Danica stands in the corner, ruefully rubbing her burning red bottom. She’s just endured a prolonged OTK spanking, and previous experience leads her to suspect the punishment isn’t over. Seemly sensing her train of thought, her husband, Miles, leans in and whispers: “I’m not done yet, you’re in big trouble, should have known better than to forget Valentine’s Day.”
Danica has a very different take on February 14th than most people. Wants coercion, not cuteness, no hearts and flowers.
“Wasn’t deliberate,” she pouts, untruthfully. “Anyway, it’s a load of fluffy pink nonsense, greetings card makers cashing in.”
“Well, aren’t you the romantic,” he observes sarcastically. “No matter, you’ll suffer the consequences.”
Her adrenalin surges; this blatant provocation has certainly started something, the problem being she’s no idea what. Miles leads Danica to the centre of the room and has her stand, hands on head. The few short steps cause her panties to slide from her knees to high heels. “Since you’re unrepentant there will be a dozen extra dozen spanks,” he growls, “On your thighs.”
“Please no!” Nothing is worse, or as humiliating. At least her bum is used to the impact of his hard hand, whereas the pale skin at the top of her legs is extremely tender. Oh dear, Miles hasn’t even begun, and she already wants to cry.
“Back and front, count them out loud.”
Danica’s lips tremble, apart from her shoes, she’s naked from the waist down, shaven vulva embarrassingly to the fore. No reason to blush, they’ve been living together for years, but the girl just can’t help it. Braless breasts covered by a top so tight her erect nipples are visible, buttocks smarting horribly from her earlier ‘naughty girl’ discipline, very different from fun spanking games.
Logically she shouldn’t feel aroused, but Danica’s body unilaterally overrules her rational mind. If sweet nothings and cooing endearments make your heart soar, fine, Danica isn’t the romance police. Simply prefers her sexual encounters to be several shades darker. If she’s going to flirt, let it be with danger. Why wait to be swept into your man’s arms when he could be bending you over?
Whack! An impact assails her left thigh. Back to reality.
“You seem to be having difficulty staying in the moment,” says Miles in a dangerous tone.
“What?” A livid handprint now marks Danica’s skin. “Sorry, one,” she adds, stumbling over words, belatedly recalling she’s meant to be keeping tally.
“Just in time,” Miles responds, punctuating the remark with another slap. Danica blurts out numbers in an increasingly anguished voice. When he finally pauses her upper legs are crimson and match her heat-radiating, warm to the touch bottom.
“Ow,” complains Danica, petulantly, hopping from foot to foot in a solo dance of discomfort, “my poor bum is hot and sore.” Demonstrably true – but not the full story. Miles’ effortless authority, coupled with an ever-inventive imagination, has kindled a fire down below.
“You know the rules, behave badly, pay the penalty,” Miles chides as he soothingly strokes his partner’s glowing globes.
“Could you please?” she ventures, tentatively.
“What?”
“Make me better?”
“How?” Danica looks pointedly at her denuded pussy, slick with excitement, submissively awaits his attention, continued obedience a certainty. Miles holds her firmly around the waist, fingers easily inserted in the honeyed portal, and seeks out the ultra-sensitive g-spot while simultaneously circling her clit, quickly taking Danica to the release she craves. No chance to participate, her role is entirely passive, to surrender to whatever satisfaction he may choose to bestow. Entirely at Miles’ mercy, panting and quivering, her knees give way as she reaches a shuddering climax. Catching her fall, he carries Danica to the sofa and spreads her legs. She deserves a second orgasm, despite the ‘confession’ of her memory lapse being such an obvious lie.
Of course, Miles knows full well there’s a Valentine’s card with his name on it, however grudgingly purchased, hidden in her lingerie drawer. Why the deception and naughty girl role-play? Because from Danica’s perspective, nothing else matches the intensity of these faux disciplinary encounters, taking her to the edge of endurance and the heights of pleasure.
Miles is also aware of the special meal she plans to cook tonight, its ingredients are already in the ‘fridge, something of a giveaway. Danica can be delightfully transparent when attempting subterfuge. Despite this, he understands her need to submit and indulges the bratty charade.
“What are you going to do to me now,” she enquires boldly, wide-eyed with hope and expectation. In silent reply, Miles’s tongue lightly traces her inner thighs and labia, then licks the length of her vulva, stopping just short of Danica’s clitoris, tormenting her with unrequited need. She tingles with anticipation, eager for further incursions as Miles repeats the process, building tension, and deferring gratification. Finally, his mouth alights once more on her wet pussy, moving up and down the sweet folds, sucking Danica’s clit, tongue forcing entry. Oh God thinks Danica, he’s so good at going down on me, this teasing is almost unendurable.
“I’m going to do this until you think you can’t possibly come anymore, then roll you over, remove that butt plug and fuck your tight little arse to prove otherwise,” says Miles, unambiguously.
The butt plug Danica carefully inserted earlier is a green light to (but not a guarantee of) rear entry, a transgressive rebuttal of saccharin-sweet romance. She opens her legs further, moaning deliriously, suffused by libidinous waves, driven to a frenzy of desire. Grabs hold of a cushion as the intensity increases, vagina pulsing, lost to sexual abandon. An orgasm starts in her clitoris, then rolls through her lower body in an electric wave, so all-consuming Danica scarcely remembers to breathe as she comes and comes.
“Think of this as an alternative Valentine’s present,” laughs Miles, flipping Danica onto her front. The butt plug slips out easily from between her glowing cheeks, instantly replaced with the greater girth of Miles’s straining cock. He straddles her prone form, firmly held in place, not that Danica plans on going anywhere, the feeling of helplessness is wonderful. Lubricated with her juices, his cock sinks deeper, Miles has never previously plundered her rosebud so ardently.
Danica slides a hand down to finger her gaping slot, sensing Miles is close to coming. Thank goodness, the sensations are all almost too intense, should she use their safe word for the first time? Close to the edge, Danica bucks her hips, clenched buttocks tightly squeezing the rigid rod blissfully filling her back passage. Despite his best intentions to hold out and prolong their mutual pleasure, Miles comes copiously, flooding her with hot sperm, a catalyst to Danica’s second euphoric climax of the day.
Dreamily satiated she images tomorrow’s inevitable conversation at the office: Do anything special on Valentine’s Day? My man spanked and then fucked my bottom, is far too much information, and unlikely to be considered a socially acceptable response.
