He’s so big. So strong. He could easily be an agent like any of the others, but he’s not. He’s a healer, and his touch, even now, is comforting as his strong thighs take my weight, his big hand strokes my bottom.
I feel a sensation I haven’t felt before. Not with a man. Sometimes, alone, I’d feel this tingle, but right now it is stronger than it ever has been before, right at the apex of my thighs. The fabric of my underwear is pulled tight over my slit, and especially over the little bud of my clit. Is that intentional? Does he know what this feels like to me? Or is this another twisted act of my abnormal anatomy?
“You were a bad little girl,” he lectures, patting my bottom. “You were aggressive for no reason. You acted out just to get attention. Well, you have it now, don’t you.”
I let out a laugh. “I’m not little! And I wasn’t trying to get attention. I did it because I like hurting people.”
“Is that right,” he drawls above me. “I don’t know if anything you just said is true, no matter how much you might want it to be.”
“Oh it’s true, mister doctor,” I say, finding it a little difficult to be properly threatening from this position. There’s something about it which makes it hard for me to even take myself seriously, and then there’s the touch of his hand, that heat which sinks through the thin fabric of my underwear and lets me feel him in an almost intimate area.
“Mhm.” His strong palm lands on my cheeks a little more forcefully. There’s a hint of sting, but it’s nothing to worry me physically.
I find myself starting to relax, feeling a little smug that he would even begin to think that this would teach me anything. Doesn’t he realize how hard I am to the world? My feelings are buried so far below the surface that even I’m not aware of them. He can’t hurt me into obedience, nobody can. Pain has been my constant companion for as long as I can remember.
He keeps spanking me. The sensation builds and builds, getting hotter and more intense. It’s really only a mild discomfort, but a whine rises up in me, coming from some locked away part of my body. I feel my hips moving with an instinctive motion. The helplessness which usually accompanies discipline is here now too, but not in the same way. It doesn’t make me feel prickly and angry. It makes me feel soft and small.
The slaps keep falling, each one of them chipping away at my exterior. The heat builds, the sensation – I can’t call it pain, intensifies, my body is swept up in a wave of feeling which builds and passes over and through me. I squirm. I gasp. I make little sounds I don’t recognize and finally I find myself going soft over his thighs, the tension leaving my body.
Tom
She’s taking this so very well. I’m not spanking her very hard, just enough to impart color to her cheeks and heat to her seat, but it’s enough. With a girl like this, I have the feeling less is going to be more. When all she’s ever heard are shouts, a whisper might have a better chance of getting through to her. After a few minutes of lightly swatting her very deserving bottom, I pause, holding her in place.
“How do you feel?”
She answers with an incoherent little mumble, which is more than I expected anyway. Electra doesn’t have a vocabulary for anything outside the vicious and the painful. So I keep going. Not hard. Not soft. Just firm and regular. I want to teach her that there are consequences, but that discipline doesn’t have to be cruel.
I taper the spanking down slowly, until I am rubbing her panty clad bottom. She is so perfect over my thighs, giving me a kind of trust I know to be precious. I keep her there for a long time. There’s no reason to break the spell, and so I don’t. I let her stay in that, dare I call it submissive headspace. I want her to associate this with me, relaxation, safety, calmness. All of those things are no doubt entirely foreign to her.
Her hips keep moving even after I’ve stopped spanking her. They grind regularly over my lap, the curve of her thigh making what I assume must be accidental contact with my crotch. I am getting hard. I hesitate, wondering if I should stop this. Stand her up. Move the session on. Then I remember the Head’s words: she’s yours. You own her.
I know I don’t legally own her, but there’s a part of me which likes that idea very much. The ability to possess someone like Electra, to have her beautiful body open to me as it is now. She is stunning. The curve of her ass is smooth and taut and the way she moves her cheeks and hips makes my cock throb. Is it inappropriate to touch her more gently, to have my hands roam the soft cotton clad skin of her bottom? I find myself doing just that, fingers sliding under the waistband of her underwear to pull it up smooth, putting more fabric pressure against the apex of her thighs where that perfect sex of hers remains hidden from my gaze.