The Spanking 11

As we meet in the anonymous hotel lobby, your plain clothes do not betray the need to seduce: a simple white blouse, a dark blue skirt reaching just below the knees.

Your true beauty is in me knowing what lies beyond the depth of your eyes, in your flesh, below your vibrant skin; it has never been truer that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

What do you see in me? Am I simply an executor, an enforcer?

What ties us is, first and foremost, a bond of trust; our sexes, our attraction, are essential as specifications of machines, but there is no need of flirting, no courtship, no cooing.

We have moved into the room. Its anonymous elegance pleases our eyes without being distracting.

Our conversation has been functional, almost dry.

Your eyes, fixed in mine, try to remain emotionless, don't want to betray any feeling.

Still, as I order you to turn, your glance let many things transpire, betrays your expectation, asks for kindness, but at the same time expresses the wish for mercilessness; I can read in your eyes your surrender and your happiness for being able to do so because you trust me completely.

Following my instructions, your hands pull down the elastic of your slips and let me see the expansion of your buttocks. It is an Asian ass, full, the curve to the waist less pronounced, you could say more masculine, but it pertains to all the softness of a feminine body.

They call us white; but I haven't seen a skin whiter than yours, almost translucent; it's unforgiving for any imperfection and as I see the little spots, the changes of tone, it's like I am seen the ever-changing color of the sea, the intensity of a tone a simple indication of its depth.

You lie on my knees and, as I spread your butt cheeks you try to resist my grasp, but I firmly take hold of your plump, elastic flesh. Your anus is like a small, dark bud, waiting to unfold its petals. My hand wanders, feeling the grain of your skin- I can sense a slight tremble - you're waiting for me to strike.

As in everything, all is in the beginning.

The first strike hits you with a hollow sound, and I feel you relaxing - waiting is over. I can see just a curve of your mouth, enough to guess that you're smiling.

I know that my job won't be completed until those lips will be contorted by pain. I continue hitting your ass with the palm of my hand, regularly, sometimes I am happy with the result - the hand adheres to your flesh completely and produces a pleasant, long-lasting sound, sometimes I seem to miss the mark, the sound is hollow and I feel I was unable to take you to the point where pain and pleasure meet.

However, as time passes your buttocks, which have turned a deep pink, are the sign of a job well done.

My hand is warm, your ass is warm, we both love this exchange of heat.

As I caress you and I look to the print of my hand on your skin, slightly swollen, I resist the desire to slide a finger within your glistening lower lips; if I let myself be tempted, this will be a half-done job and later I'll regret it.

I make you stand and I ask you to loosen your skirt, that falls on your feet. When you step out of it I ask you to put your hands on the desk.

There's a mirror by the side; even if you're not facing it, still I can spy on your reactions.

There is something charming in the functionality of your half-covered body - the dark blue blouse covering your torso, and nakedness from the waist below. There is also a promise that there is much more to explore.

Without me saying anything, you push out your buttocks.

I take the plastic ruler and I let it swing in the air...it has a pleasant, hissing sound.

The first blow feels like a test, I don't put all of myself in it. I can see that you too want more, this has been like a chaste kiss.

I hit more, two, three, ten times. Where I hit the pink becomes darker, the rectangular marks cross each other.

Still, I can't see my strength fully conveyed, I feel there is only so much energy the ruler can absorb and transfer.

You turn your face and look at me, like a lover to whom penetration has been withheld and who wishes for it, though it's not penetration you're looking forward.

I take a steel ruler I brought with me -I had tried aluminum ones before but they bent on your firm flesh, I remember smiling.

The steel ruler is merciless, I go on until you fall on your knees, unable to take more.

I let you take a rest at my feet, I stroke your hair, as I should do with a lovely pet, and you smile back.

You know it's not yet over, I would be too lenient to accept to leave you within your limits. I ask you to stand again, this time your hands are on a lower stool and your ass is offered already marked, pushed obscenely toward me. Sweat and arousal moisten your anus and nether lips.

Until now I let you stay silent, only occasionally you let out muffled cries, driven by pain.

It was easier to absorb the blows: but now I want you to count and thank me, to acknowledge your humiliation and submission, and this will distract you and will make my whipping more unexpected and hence more intense.

I take the riding crop, and I pass its leather edge on your back. As I do so, you arch it, as if it is stirring and awakening you. With it, I caress your round, marked globes, the ass cleft, your sex. The black leather gleams of your juices, it is like my hand on your pussy.

Suddenly, I start striking. The blow arrives unexpectedly, but you react quickly, count and thank. More strikes come, pushing you to count and thank quicker. While I hit you, I ask you to be louder, as louder you can be, I challenge you to let your voice be heard behind the wall.

I slow down now, and I look for precision.

With your strained eyes, you look at me, I can read pain and excitement in them, something has started inside you and needs to be brought to completion.

As much as you want it, sometimes you can't fight holding back and try to avoid the blows.

When this happens, I gently slip my hand on your waist, so that you return into position, and you look at me, your hair wet and plastered on your face and you whisper "Thank you", with a little smile.

When we reach one hundred I stop. It looks like your ass has blossomed, it has become double its size. There is no area that hasn't changed color: different shades of red and purple cover the whole surface, somewhere there are nasty spots of aubergine black, like scattered islets of an archipelago.

I put my hand on it, and it opens effortlessly, your anus looks at me like the core of a half-cracked peach.

The brown bud has blossomed into a beautiful, unfolded, flower, wet with dew.

I help you to stand and I hold you in my arms, caressing you gently, while you savor the sweet aftertaste of pain.