Saturday Snac

No sooner than the last inch of fabric's disappearing inside her, he slapped her cunt causing her body to jump a little.

He stepped out from between her legs, pushed them together, then quickly pushed her knees down. The momentum of her legs made her fall forward off the counter, but he caught her before she landed.

He turned her around, placed his hand between her shoulders and shoved her down, bending her over the edge of the island.

He picked up the knife and slapped her ass with the flat of its blade.

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

"Four."

"Five."

.

.

.

"Twelve."

"Fourteen."

The spanks were not particularly hard, but she struggled to stay focused. She was feeling too many things all at once. She was excited to be bent over the kitchen island. When she picked out the kitchen, more than a decade ago, being bent over in the middle of it and spanked with a knife wasn't even a thing she was aware existed.

She was excited by the feeling of her soaked panties inside her. "Dirty laundry belongs in the laundry basket." That's how she was raised. That's how she's lived her whole life. She never, not even for a second, entertained the possibility that she could become the laundry basket.

She was excited to be plugged, to feel full, to be tantalized with every miniscule move that she made. To feel the wad of fabric becoming slicker and slicker.

Most importantly, she was most excited by not knowing what came next. She was completely at the mercy of his whims, and every whim he had had so far made her tingle and throb.

"Ow!" She shrieked as she felt the weight and strength of his fist land in the center of her ass cheek, almost immediately numbing her whole leg.

"Focus! One slight mistake and I end up taking a pound of flesh."

"Yes sir. Sorry sir."

"Not yet, you're not! Start over."

"One." Her voice trembled.

"Owww!" A second punch landed on her other cheek.

"I can't hear you. Start over."

She had only just gotten back the sensation in her leg after the first punch and now her other leg was knocked out.

She held onto the island for dear life, struggling to keep from moving or shifting. She would so gladly give him a pound of flesh, but he was clear he did not want it.

"One."

"Better."

"Two."

"Three."

.

.

.

"Ten."

"Congratulations. You got through that one. You now know how to count to 10." He said mockingly.

Her face burned with humiliation, and her clit pulsated, sending a similar heat from her crotch up to her chest.

"Spread 'em." He barked, slapping her inner thigh.

She complied, still holding on.

He pushed his index and middle finger into her pussy and, with a scissor-like movement, pinched the fabric of her underwear. He pulled it out slowly, with surgeon-like care.

"That feels good, sir." She moaned at the new sensation.

He said nothing. Instead, he walked around to the other side of the island, holding her wet panties between his two fingers still. He held them up so she could see what she's done to them then balled them in his hand.

"Open your mouth."

She opened her mouth. He stuffed the wad in her mouth then slapped her hard that she felt her neck crack.

"Next time I want your opinion, I'll ask for it."

She bowed her head in apology and kept it down. He walked back behind her.

"Put your legs together."

She put her legs together but flinched when she felt something between them, his warm hand holding the cold knife pointed down to the ground directly under her. He then released the knife from his hand, leaving it firmly held between her thighs.

"Do I need to tell you not to move, or do you get the picture now?"

She clenched her thighs tighter in the affirmative.

He was quiet for what seemed like an eternity. She could not look back to see what he was doing or what was happening.

She stood there, bent over, legs together in growing anticipation, then she heard the water dispenser.

Tuk

He set the glass down and walked back over behind her.

He grabbed her ass cheeks in the palms of his hands, inserting his thumbs in between them. He spread her open, exposing her puckered asshole.

ptui

She felt his spit land in her crack and flow down to her orifice. He pressed the tip of his finger against her and watched it slowly sink in. He moved it in small and slow circles as she tried to relax around him.

He pulled his finger out and spat again, this time rubbing his saliva around the star burst ridges of her asshole using his thumb.

He sucked his finger and wet it generously, then pushed it slowly inside her. Her tight hole resisted his first knuckle a little, but the "mmph" that she let out from behind her gag told him to keep going.

He moved his finger in a tiny spiral, fitting more of it inside. Soon she was puckered around the second knuckle.

She felt another finger pressing against her back door, slowly snaking its way in alongside the other. With her eyes closed and her mouth closed, she moaned through her nose.

To be continued