Eroticizing Discipline: Dominance, Submission and Exquisite Pleasure. H. Hargrove

began to pant. For a moment I wanted to drop the belt and bury my tongue between those perfect cheeks and thighs. But I knew she needed this, and there would be time later.

      “You may not be able to sit down for dinner after I finish with you. Are you going to drop this nonsense about my ex-family?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “I bet you’ll know in a minute.” Her first, brief orgasm came as I pulled the tip of the belt lightly up over her thighs, across the thatch of hair, up between the cheeks of her ass, then said, “You’re about to get a spanking you won’t forget for a while.” My arm rose and fell slowly at first, but within a few minutes her bottom was a bright pink. Then she was trying to squirm out of the way, raising and lowering her hips, reaching back to cover her behind with her hands.

      “Are you going to stop bringing it up?”

      I knew she could never do anything more than say “yes.” It isn’t in Sheila’s nature to ever admit she’s wrong. Even when we both know she is.

      Finally she said “Yes”, and it was my cue to use the belt a little harder.

      “Are you sure?”

      “Yes.”

      I can never be harsh with Sheila; I care for her too much. But we both agree that when she misbehaves she needs to be soundly spanked, and since this was the first time I used the belt, I wanted to be sure to leave an impression. Many couples play with the real discipline, erotic discipline issue, but with us it really works. Particularly when she throws one of her tantrums. No amount of reasoning or talking can calm her down. She always initially resists being spanked when she’s upset, but at some point during the spanking she calms down, accepts it, making up is automatic, and we have white-hot sex.

      Days of anger, distance and silence are avoided. We quickly return to a state of happiness and contentment.

      “OK. It’s over now. I hope you’ve learned a lesson.” As I spoke gently to her, I lightly stroked the pink, hot cheeks of her bottom. My tongue then started across the smooth flesh, completely coating one cheek with a warm film, then the other. As it slipped down between the tight, round little buttocks and began to flick at her lovely little anus, my fingers slowly caressed the smooth skin between her thighs, moved higher, then brushed along the lips of her pussy. My tongue was tickling electric pleasure into the bundles of receptive nerves around her anus at the same time I slipped two of my fingers into her pussy. Sheila was moaning loudly. I reached my left hand under her dress, pushed her bra over her breasts, and began to twirl her nipples between my fingers. Cupping one breast in my hand, I massaged it, then returned to her erect nipple. I continued to probe her ass and pussy - slowly, then faster, then slowly again. I changed positions, slid my tongue down between her legs, found her clit, then gently pushed a wet finger up into her ass. Even when I stopped to get my breath, my fingers were moving, circling, probing, caressing. As always happens, when I have both hands and my tongue working in concert, a strong shudder shook her body.

      After many minutes of slow, exquisite pleasure, as if on cue, we were both up, tearing each other’s clothes off. Sheila pushed me back on the bed, put one hand on the shaft of my throbbing dick, the other on my balls, then stared as if they were her most prized possessions as she began fondling me. She slipped a finger first into her pussy, then into my ass, and took my dick deep inside her mouth. I lay back, groaned. Ecstasy. I tried to relax and revel in the incredible feel of her strong but gentle sucking motion, her fingers expertly caressing first my balls, then my ass, then my balls again. She would continue until I erupted in her mouth, or needed to be inside her. That time came.

       Within seconds she was on her hands and knees and I was pushing deep inside her warm wetness. I drove into her, hard at first, then gently, then hard again, over and over.

      God, it was exquisite. Amazing. As always. Finally, after one more shudder and cry from her, I exploded.

      Once our breath returned we kissed, long and gently, then dozed in each other arms. The wine, beer and sushi had to wait. Dinner was at 11:00 p.m.

      The next night we were in bed, spooned close, when I asked, “Was your bottom sore today?”

      “Not really. Well, maybe a little. Makes me remember,” she said with a sly smile.

      I could feel my dick thickening, pressing between the cheeks of her ass. “You needed it, you know. I mean the belt.” My voice was soft, smooth, almost a monotone. “And something else. About a week ago you said something bitchy, the same old family thing, when we were at Donna’s. Do you want to guess what will happen if you do that again?”

      “Will you spank me? There?”

      “Absolutely.”

      “In front of her…or them?”

      “I might. Or at least take you into the bathroom. They’ll damn sure know.” Her body trembled slightly.

      “It made me think,” she said.

      “What made you think,” I said.

      “When you took your belt off.”

      “What did you think about?”

      “My Dad.”

      “Yes? What about your Dad?”

      “He used a belt when he spanked me.”

      “Will you tell me about it?”

      “What do you want to know?”

      “How old were you when he gave you your last spanking?”

      “I’m not sure. High school. Fifteen, maybe sixteen.”

      “Tell me about the last time.”

      “I don’t remember too much. I mean about which time was the last.”

      “Then how do you know how old you were?”

      “There were a couple of times when guys brought me home. After going out. I was at least fifteen.”

      “What would happen? Tell me exactly what would happen.”

      “Dad was gone a lot. In the military. He wasn’t around too much. A lot of times Mom would tell him if I was bad.”

      “Were you really bad?”

      “No. I was really good. The only time in my life. Because I was afraid. But Mom was crazy. A wild crazy woman when she drank. An alcoholic. To her, everything I did was bad.”

      “So what would she do?”

      “Sometimes, after she yelled at me and called me names…she’d tell me Dad was going to wear me out when he got home.”

      “And would he?” I slowly slipped my dick into Sheila’s pussy from behind, pushing gently, as I kept questioning her. She pressed her hips back against me, until I was all the way in.

      We were so close, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, discussing things so intimate, making very slow, very wonderful love.

      “Yeah. Sometimes.”

      “And were you afraid when you knew he was going to spank you?”

      “I hated it. Waiting.”

      “What would he do? Tell me everything.”

      “He’d make me go to my room. He kept the belt in his drawer. He’d get it or sometimes he’d make me go and get it.”

      “Did you have a room of your own.”

      “No. I shared it with Sylvia.”

      “Was she ever in there when he spanked you?”

      “One time...maybe...I think. But not usually. I don’t remember too much.”

      “Go on.”

      “He’d make me take off my dress, or jeans.”

      “All your clothes?”