Goal Chec In

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I knock on your door. You open it and i step inside. As soon as it's closed you shove me against the wall and grab my crotch. "I'm not wearing underwear," I admit.

You rub your dick against me. It's clear that you're starting to get hard. I reach for it.

You let me grope you while you continue groping my crotch. I get your zipper down and pull you out, stroking you. Before you get too hard, you turn me so I'm facing the wall and grab my wrists in your hand. With your other, you pull my pants down to my knees. My ass is trembling and I'm clenching it.

You give me a gentle slap, not even a warm up stroke. "Relax," you chuckle. "If you're already that tensed up you'll never make it through the punishment you have coming."

You prod me toward the bed. My jeans slip lower on my legs making me stumble. I fall onto the bed just in time, aided by the shove you give my wrists, propelling me onto the bed. You yank my jeans the rest of the way off my legs. "Spread your legs and arms," you order. I obey. Inside, I'm trembling.

Once I'm completely spread eagle, you run your hand up the inside of my thigh. I wriggle as it tickles, and you give my ass a slap. This feels more like a warm slap. "So, Dante, in the past two weeks since your last session, how many days of anal training have you missed?" you ask.

"2," I reply.

You pause, then slap my ass hard. My hands jerk down to cover my cheeks as I yelp, wriggling away from you on the bed.

"Keep. Your. Hands. Spread." You mutter as you strike my ass, thighs, and hands as I try to get myself back into position.

I manage to spread myself out again, sniffling a little. "Do you want to try the answer again?" you ask. "What?" I reply.

"What sir, you remind me after another pause.

"Oh, sorry, sir, yes, sir, I missed two days, sir," I say, stumbling over my words.

"That will be two strokes for the days, and another for forgetting to address me respectfully," you say. "Now, for working out. How most days of your routine did you miss?"

I hesitate. "Four, sir," I mumble.

You slap my ass again.

"Speak up," you order.

"Four, sir," I say clearly, with a hint of tears in my throat.

"Very well. You owe me 9 strokes, one for each missed day, as well as one for breaking form, one for forgetting to use sir, and one for not speaking clearly. Those strokes will be with my belt. You will also owe me 9 minutes of over the knee spanking time.

"I'll start with the belt," you decide. "Recite the rules for properly receiving my belt."

"I need to stay spread, arms and legs, for each stroke. I'm allowed to cry, but must remain in position. I'm not allowed to clench my ass before the strike. I can writhe but must stay on my stomach and my hands must stay in position for the stroke to count. I need to count and thank you after each one. Sir," I hastily finish.

"And if your hands come down?" You prime.

"I earn an extra stroke for each one where my hands break position or I clench or forget to count," I respond.

"Very well. Assume the position," you instruct. Trembling, I reach my hands as far over my head as I can, grabbing the head board. I try to relax my body. My ass is soft and shaking. You rest your hand on it and jiggle it, making sure I'm not clenching. We both know it's important for me to be as defenseless as possible for the punishment to be most effective.

Crack

The first blow lands squarely across my ass. It's not the hardest blow you could give, but it means business. My ass cheeks ripple from the blow and a red stripe pops out. "One, sir, thank you," I gasp, my breath catching.

Before I have time to recover, you land the second stroke right where the crease of my ass meets the top of my thigh. This time, my hand slips down to caress my ass as I cry. "One more on the board," you say, adding a tally mark. Desperate to avoid more strokes, I grab the headboard and relax my butt.

"Two, sir, thank you," I reply.

The third, fourth, and fifth strokes land across my ass. I manage to keep my hands on the headboard, my ass unclenched, and count each one properly. For the sixth, though, you curve the belt in so it lands across my upper right inner thigh. I lose my grip and curl up crying. "Another one on the board," you say. The seventh cuts across my upper left inner thigh, but this time I maintain my position. I'm sobbing. The next two you land in quick succession.

The 10th is squarely on my pussy. I break position again, and it takes me a while to regain the position. "Ten, sir, thank you," I manage between not-so-silent sobs.

"Roll over," you bark. I scramble to comply. "Spread your legs as far as possible. Bend your knees up slightly and let them fall open," you command.

I know what is coming. I also know arguing will make it worse. You're about to belt my pussy. It's going to hurt like hell...but it's also going to make me so fucking wet, and we both know it. As long as I can stay in position, I only have two more strokes. I let my knees fall open. My cock is throbbing, pink and hard. Cum glistens on my pussy lips. "Look at me," you order. I do. As you hold my eye contact, you raise the belt and bring it down squarely on my pussy.

My knees snap together involuntarily but I force them back out. "Ten, sir, I'm sorry, thank you, please let it count," I cry.

"I'll let the last one count," you say.

"Thank you," I manage to whisper, as I let my legs fall open again. I look into your eyes. Seeing the slight frown, I hurriedly add "sir!"

You once again belt my pussy, but we both know the stroke was gentler. You gather me into your arms for a moment as I cry, exhausted. As you hold me balanced on your lap with your arm around my shoulders, I spread my legs like I'm supposed to. You rub my pussy lips and squeeze my cock. Despite the redness, I'm hard, throbbing, and wet. I whimper and try to shove my crotch harder against your hands. You humor me for a moment. I can feel your dick hard against my leg. After teasing me for a few minutes, you pull me to standing.

"I've disciplined you, which benefits you since it helps you stay more focused on what you need to," you remind me. "Now it's time for you to thank me before we finish with your spanking. Spread your legs as far as you can and straddle my lap." I obey. "Hold me," you command, guiding my hands to your dick. Precum is leaking from the tip. "Rub me on you," you instruct. I gently slide my hands up and down your shaft, then bring the tip against my pussy lips. I slide it up and down, coating it in my juices as well. I rub your cock against my clit and dip it very gently into my vagina. You're only getting harder, and pure ropes of cum are leaking from me at this point.

You put your hands on my shoulders and shove me down. "Kneel."

"Yes sir." I put my head down, taking you into my mouth. You slide my body around so my chest rests against your thigh. One of my arms is wrapped around your back while the other cups your balls, gently swirling and squeezing them. With my upper body against your thigh, you pull my thighs apart and rub my ass, now in perfect range of your hand.

"You have 9 minutes here," you remind me. "Your only job is to keep my dick in your mouth. When I cum, you will swallow every drop, and thank me at the end."

I nod, my mouth so full of dick I can't talk. The effect is that my mouth bobs up and down on your cock. The veins are pulsing.

You begin spanking me. It's gentle at first, dozens of quick, fairly gentle snaps. They sting more then anything else. I keep licking and sucking, my hand cupping your balls swirling them.

In the second minute, the spanks get harder. The sting lasts longer, and you focus 5 slaps at a time on a certain area, especially those that are already red and angry. I writhe, which only increases your arousal and the friction from my mouth.

"Unclench or I'm adding a minute," you scold. I struggle to keep my ass relaxed so your spankings can ripple through it. You're spanking hard now, and tears mix with cum as I keep sucking.

By the end of the spanking, you're ready to cum in my mouth, and you do. I lap and lick you clean. My sobs have changed to gentle ones, the anger and stubbornness and argument paddled out of me, replaced by a delicious sense of absolution. I've atoned for my faults and the next check in will be a blank slate.

Spanking and belting over, you help me stand and arrange me on the bed on all fours. You're going to top me now. I can do nothing about it. And I don't want to. I follow all your instructions to open my ass up to you. "Real faggots take it up the ass," you remind me, as you sink your head into my ass. We've been working on this for several months. My anus quickly adapts to the new feel and spreads wider, pulling you in. Soon, you're pounding me, your hips thrusting against my reddened back. We both cum again, and we collapse onto the bed after. I fall asleep curled into your side, your hand protectively covering (and occasionally tweaking), my cock.