He tells me to stand in the corner and at that moment the moisture between my legs begins to flow. He knows this punishment is one I hate quite vehemently, but as usual His powerful voice commanding me runs straight through my body and right to my heated core. It always makes feel so childish; like I am a hyper kindergartener sent to the corner to calm myself, a naughty child caught with my hand in the cookie jar sent to think about the error of my ways. I know that I deserve it and so I move to follow His orders, looking to return to His good graces. I stand facing the wall- mere inches away from touching the solid barrier, my hands to my sides and my eyes staring straight ahead. I remain quiet and as still as I can, not willing to give Him any reason for more dissatisfaction. Staying immobile is always the worst part for me. I'm such an energetic person that even a few minutes of stillness weighs heavily on my mind. I long to shake or wiggle- something to break the monotony of staring straight ahead. He knows how hard this is for me- then again He seems to know all. I hope that He is at least proud of my effort. I can never manage staying this still for too long.
Though I can't see it to be certain, I am sure that He is sitting in His armchair with His paper open as He reads the latest news. But now I can feel His gaze on my bottom, the full roundness accentuated by the tight black skirt hugging my globes. I unconsciously shake my bum; drawing more of His attention as he scrutinizes my body, pooling more heat between my thighs. I start to fidget and wiggle- so much for holding out. I hear a shuffle of movement behind me and I'm sure a reprimand is coming my way. However, instead of a harsh tone reaching my ears, His smooth voice washes over me as He orders me to lift my skirt. I move automatically to comply, bunching the fabric around my waist as I feel His gaze rake over my ass. The next order is to remove my panties and an almost undetectable shiver runs through me at His words and tone. I hook my fingers onto the sides of the lacy material, slowly sliding them down my hips, bending over to follow the thin cloth to the floor. I step out of them and kick them to the side, straightening up and re-bunching my skirt. "Now the skirt," His voice wraps around me, so authoritative and consuming and I am lost. I reach behind me, unzipping the zipper and unclasping the clasp; I let it drop to the floor.
"Rub your clit for me," He says. "Slowly..." I reach down and circle the hard nub of nerves, gasping and shivering. I start to place my hand on the wall, looking for a way to brace myself. Before a single speck of flesh can touch the surface I receive a smart swat at my ass, causing me to jerk my hand back. I didn't even know He was so close. I brace my legs further apart; just like I'm sure He wanted me to. I resist the insistent urge to speed up, knowing better than to do so without order. I continue my torturously slow pace on my clit instead, breathing coming out in short pants and my body shaking from the short sparks of pleasure. Then He tells me to move my finger down and plunge it into me, all the way to the second knuckle- no hesitation. I move quickly to comply, driving my finger into my tight, wet center. My knees start to buckle as I follow the pace He sets for me. My finger pumps in and out of me slowly as I try to rock my hips and stay standing. I increase the tempo at the command of His voice. I gasp when I feel His chest at my back, His hand snaking around to join my hand nestled between my thighs, renewing the attentions at my clit. I cry out softly, a moan escaping my usually quiet demeanor. He wants to hear me today, I can tell. He won't rest until I cry out for Him. Oh, I am in for it now...
