“Yes, Sir,” she said, cautiously, hoping he would remind her what they’d decided. She wished she weren’t hanging upside down while he played with her butt. That thought almost made her giggle, and she added to herself, “hardly anybody could do their best thinking balanced over someone’s lap, ass up, head down.”
But he was talking again, and she tried to focus.
“I was thinking,” he said, “That maybe we could set it up so you’re over my lap like this when they walk in.”
“WHAT?” She tried to lift her head and turn to see if he was kidding, but his hand landed firmly on her ass just at that moment. She gasped in surprise, and her head went back down.
He laughed. “What I’m thinking,” and the hand landed again, “Is that this would really demonstrate,” smack with the hand, “what submission looks like.” And one more spank – not real hard, but enough to make her squirm.
She was surprised that he’d stopped, she had expected the spanking to continue. But then she smelled lube. Predictably, his finger spread the lube on her tight asshole, which puckered tightly, knowing what was coming. He took his time, without penetrating, commenting, “I think I need to take you down a notch. And really,” he had paused again, but she knew he wasn’t finished, “Really, this is the quickest way I know to do that.”
And with those words, she felt the butt plug pressing at the tight entrance that was so well lubed. It was cold and hard, but lubed enough that it slid in easily about an inch. He held it there, pulled it back out a half inch, and pushed it back in, going a bit deeper.
“I’m going to fuck your ass later,” he said, “and I want you ready.” Her body jerked at his words, she was flooded with heat and her pussy clenched. She hated how much this turned her on.
He probed her hot, wet pussy with his hand, leaving the plug just far enough in her ass to keep it in place. “Look how hot you are,” he said. “I know you love to have the plug stuck up your butt hole.”
Her face flushed with shame, she hated this language, and he knew it. “Ass” was the only term she was comfortable with, and he made a point of pushing her out of that comfort zone every time.
“What do they call it?” he asked. “What are some other terms for it?”
“I don’t know, Sir,” she said, through gritted teeth.
He pressed the plug further in, wiggled it a bit. “Really? You don’t know that some people call it the ‘poop chute?’ I’m surprised, I thought we’d talked about this before.”
She had to laugh, yes, this was the routine. Damn him. He went on, “Let’s hear you say it. Three times.”
She sighed, closed her eyes. “Poop chute. Poop chute. Poop chute.”
“Good girl!” he said, pressing the butt plug another inch in. “Now let’s try a sentence. Say, ‘Put the butt plug in my poop chute, please, Sir.”
“Sir,” she protested, knowing as she said it, it was a mistake. She felt him go still. In a panic, she blurted out, “Put the butt plug in my poop chute, please, Sir.”
“I’ll be glad to,” he said, and she knew he was smiling as he pressed it the rest of the way in, pushing past the tight ring of resistance. With it nestled snugly inside her, he began to spank her again.
She felt her resistance slipping away, her body relaxed, accepting the sensation of the plug filling, feeling herself ‘slipping down,’ as she thought of it, having been taken down a notch, she reminded herself. The rhythm of the spanking was almost soothing and she tried to relax into it so she didn’t tighten with each swat.
So she felt almost disoriented when he said, “Here, you need to get up a minute, just for a minute.” He helped her to stand slowly, she felt a bit dizzy, so he helped her to her knees beside the chair. He pulled the ottoman over so it was close to his right side.
When he sat back down, he pulled her up and back over his knee, but let her rest her upper body on the ottoman. She was much more comfortable in this position, and felt a rush of gratitude for him. As often happened, it came with an urge to touch him with her mouth, or specifically, to taste his cock. She pushed that urge aside, knowing that she was not likely to have permission for that pleasure anytime soon.
“Now we can talk,” he said, “And I don’t have to worry about the blood rushing to your head for so long that you pass out.” He began playing with her again, twisting and wiggling the butt plug, then slipping his hand between her legs, teasingly stroking near her clit without touching it.
“Let’s talk about what we’re going to do when my work friend and his potential submissive playmate come over. What do you think about greeting them from this position?”
She realized that he was actually going to have a conversation with her without being able to see her face, in fact, talking directly to her ass and cunt. She blushed, and felt herself slipping down, another notch down, she thought.
She gasped as she felt a sudden stinging across her ass, low on her sit spot. She didn’t know what he’d used, maybe a ruler, or a paint stick. But it hurt, and got her full attention. Twice more, it fell across her ass, hitting above or below the previous spot each time.
Only after the third one did he say again, “What do you think, girl? Wouldn’t that be a nice way to start?’ He rubbed her ass then, taking some of the sting out of it, and she tried to think.
No, she thought that would be terrible, in just about every way. But she couldn’t say that. What then? What could she say?
The stick, whatever it was, landed again, across the back of her thighs now. She cried out. Twice more, it landed, once above and once below the previous mark. She wiggled a bit, whimpered.
She felt his hand on the butt plug as he asked again, “What do you think, sweet girl?”
She felt tears in her eyes at the endearment. And that helped her find the answer. With a sense of great relief, she answered, “Whatever you think, Sir. Whatever would please you, Sir, that’s what I want.”
“There’s my good girl,” he said, fingers stroking her clit. “Good girl. I have some other ideas too. What if you’re standing up to greet them, just completely naked, except for some nipple clamps and the butt plug? That would be pretty, wouldn’t it?”
Completely distracted by the fingers, which were pushing her closer to orgasm, she murmured, “If you think so, Sir, then yes.”
He chuckled, withdrew the fingers and the stick landed again, this time crossing the three marks on her ass from earlier. She cried out.
Twice more, the stick landed, shaking her with the sting at the intersection with other marks. She had already lost the battle to stay relaxed, and with each hit, her asshole tightened on the butt plug. It was uncomfortable and it made her hotter.
“I have a question,” he said. She struggled to focus on his words. He went on slowly, tracing circles on her ass with the ruler. “Which is more difficult?” he asked. “When I spank you for a while, or when I alternate spanking with playing with you? Which is harder to endure?”
She wanted to answer. She started to answer 2 or 3 times. But then he started wiggling the butt plug round and round – she heard him murmur, “almost like stirring some soup,” – and finger fucking her with two fingers on the other hand. She couldn’t answer, every time she opened her mouth, she just whimpered or moaned.