What I’m Going to do to You! Spanking and Anal Punishment Erotica

I’m disappointed in you. You’ve really been mouthy, bratty, and just… disobedient.

I told you what I wanted. I wanted you to eat right… to eat more. I wanted you to be up at a good time in the morning, because we talked about how you get rushed… how you wake up late and l hate it when you try to drive somewhere when you’re late.

Just last week, as I’m sure you remember, you were running late because, again, you overslept. You rushed to get ready and then got in your car and rushed to work. And, what happened? You got pulled over and you got a ticket.

That is just unacceptable.

I told you that I wanted you to eat three meals a day. I wanted you to stop forgetting your breakfast, or skipping lunch because you had a meeting, or too much work to do.

I care about you. I cherish who and what you are. And, because of my love for you, I am going to discipline you.

As disappointed as I am, and as much as I know you want and need to be taken in my hands, you are going to get a spanking. And when your spanking is done; when your tears are still fresh; and you are still bent over, I am going to fuck you. Hard.

Remember that this is a punishment. This is not a play spanking. And, thus, you will start without a stitch of clothing. I want to see you, standing there, goosebumps raised on your skin, looking down at the floor, naked.

This punishment is going to start with a lecture. In fact, I will give you this very lecture. Then, I will sit down, I will hold out my hand, and I will say, “come here.”

I will take you by the arm and pull you over my knee. You know, my love, that when I pull you in for a punishment, that I pull you hard. That I take you to my knee in a way that will, without question, let you know that I am very serious.

Now, over my knee, anticipating the pain to come, I will begin.

I will not start with a few light swats to get your blood flowing. No. I will begin hard, fast, and long.

I want to feel your skin bend beneath my hand with each blow. When I spank you hard, you squirm. I want to feel that struggle in my lap as you writhe uncontrollably, making every effort to stay in position, because you know exactly what happens when you move out of position.

I will spank you on your bared flesh with my hand for some time. I will not pause, but will go on and on, until there is not just color, but the first splotches of bruising.

Then, and only then, will I pick up the hairbrush paddle. You know the one. The tiny terror. Hard oak, smooth, but thick and heavy.

This, I will apply with the same vigor as my hand. But, my dear one, now I will not have just my bare skin to spank with, but the hard wood of a paddle.

You will writhe, now, much more uncontrollably. Trying to free yourself from the grip of my arm around your waist.

And your hand, without your desire, will swing back to stop the blows.

As you know, this is when I believe the spanking truly begins.

I will grab your wrist in a tight grip and pull your hand up to the small of your back. And those legs, kicking and bending, putting your little feet in the way of my strokes… I will pin them down under my leg so that you are completely helpless.

Now, completely without control… without power… you will be helpless.

I love to listen to your breathing and hear your soft moans in this very moment. The moment when you lose all power. The moment when you know that this punishment, which is already very real, is going to turn, for you, for the worse.

“You know how I feel about speeding. You know that this ticket is not just about money being taken away, but about you putting yourself and everyone else on the road at risk.”

“Yes, sir,” you will whimper.

I will begin again, this time making a point to hit harder, more strokes on each cheek, making sure to intensify the feeling of that deep and awful sting.

You will cry out, wriggling helplessly under my grip. It will do you no good.

I will spank you with the hairbrush paddle for a while, until I see the raised skin, the white ashy color of proper welting. The purple outlines of my implement…

Then, I will stop. I will let you relax, for a moment. Let you catch your breath, for a moment. My hand will glide over your sore, swollen bottom, giving you a moment’s relief… for a moment.

“Stand up,” I will command, and you will follow.

I will look at your face, the streaks of tears freshly struck on your soft and tender skin. You stand there, shaking a bit, wringing your hand in front of your supple belly. Head down, sniffling back the pain.

You will know that this is far from over, and you will be terrified of what is yet to come.

You will be terrified, but grateful. You know that I do this out of love. I do this to remind you, to give you the control in your life that you so deeply need and desire.

That is why you will be obedient when I stand up and say, “Now, bend over. Elbows flat. And get that bottom up.”

The hesitation is always exciting. Your body is telling you “no more,” but your know that you must. The, you slowly step forward, leaning over, resting your weight on your elbows… and your tip toes. Your head drops… that moment of “now it’s going to begin again.”

I will unbuckle my belt. I know that the sound of the metal on metal, the swish of leather on fabric as it comes off of my waist, it gives you a tiny chill. It tells you, “Now you will be spanked with my belt.”

I let the leather tap against your skin. Let you feel the implement before its torment begins.

I raise up, hand above my shoulder, and I begin again. Hard, fast, and deep. The slap of the leather on your skin… the give in your flesh as it makes its marks… your hands balling into fists… your body shaking…

I continue for a good amount of time. I watch your back arch, your feet perching on your toes.

Then, it stops again. A moment of relief. But, only a moment.

“You matter to me. You mean more than anything to me. I tell you to eat right, not to make your life harder, but to make it easier. When you eat the way I instruct you, you are taking care of yourself. Without your health, you cannot reach your goals. Do you understand that?”

There is always a pause. Maybe to give yourself that one more second of relief, or maybe because you’re choking back tears.

“Yes, sir.” It passes softly from your lips.

I drop the belt, letting you know that we are moving on to the next implement.

I wrap my fingers around the handle of the sixteen inch paddle. The heavy, thuddy implement feels like an extension of my arm.

A few taps on your scarlet, bruised bottom. The first blow will go across your sweet spot, just above the crease at the base of your bottom.

I raise the paddle, and I swing. The “thwack” of wood on skin… your body flinches forward, trying to escape the next blow.

Again, now lower, at the top of your thighs. You cry out. Your leg bends, and you push yourself ever higher on your toes.

Again, now a bit higher than the first, once on the left, then again on the right.

I give you a short moment to rock back and forth, waiting for the searing burn in your bottom to wane.

Then, a few more taps on the left… “thwack.” Then, on the right, “thwack.”

“If you can’t learn to control yourself, I will be certain that this punishment happens again. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” you cry out.

Another harsh blow across the top of your thighs.

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir!”

Another blow, across the sweet spot.

You cry out, again.

Almost done… with the spanking. I set the paddle down, and gently lift the rattan cane, gripping the leather twine handle. I whip it across the air to hear the whistle.

You hear it, and now you know that the worst is yet to come… though it is the last, it is the worst.

I let the rattan top gently across that tender crease, where I have already left welts with the paddle. I draw back and quickly come back down. The crack of the cane is unmistakable. As is your reaction.

Your head pops up, your back arching. Your knuckles are white, your hands fiercely clenched.

The next whip of the cane goes across your now purple sweet spot.

Another across the back of your thighs.

“If you ever speed again… if you get one more ticket…”

Another stroke across the top of your bottom. Then, three more, in succession, moving down your bottom.

“If you don’t start eating the way that I have instructed…”

Three more down the back of your thighs.

You are in agony…

“If…” a stroke, “…you…,” a stroke, “…don’t…,” a stroke, “…listen…,” stroke, “…to…,” stroke, “…me…”

I let the cane lay gently across your back.

“If you don’t do what I tell you, this will be much worse. Do you understand?”

You are hardly able to speak. You whimper, but your words fail you.

I set the cane down and place one hand on the small of your back, letting the other rub across your punished bottom. I can feel the bruising and welts under my fingers. I feel you shaking, sobbing softly.

I let my fingers gently caress your tight little asshole. I feel you tremble and tense up. You know what comes next.

I stand behind you and open the top button on my pants. I pull down the zipper, another sound that gives you clear foresight into what is yet to come.

I pull my pants down, letting my hard, throbbing cock free.

“I want you to remember this punishment the next time you’re sleeping in.”

I lean over and spit on your tight hole, letting my fingers circle it, then slowly pushing my index finger into your ass.

“And, the next time you think about skipping lunch, I want you to think about this.”

I let my finger go in, all the way to my third knuckle. It moves in and out, slowly. You tighten around it.

I pull out, then slowly insert my index and middle finger, feeling the muscle stretch as it tries to contract around them. In and out, more quickly.

“Tell me, love. What am I about to do?”

You choke back more pain, then quietly say, “…fuck me in the ass, sir.”

I pull my fingers out and let the tip of my cock press against your tight, pink asshole. I put my hands on your hips and pull you towards me as I push myself into you.

First, there’s the moment of resistance, as my erection stretches the hole wider and wider. Then, your hole opens just enough to let me push all the way in.

“Oh…,” you mutter, your body tense.

I push my cock all the way in until you can feel my balls brush against you. Your body is fully tensed. You throw your head back and your fists get even tighter clenched that before.

I pull back, then push back in. Then, again. Then, again.

I let the rhythm start, in and out. I feel you relaxing as your go from total pain to sweet, masochistic pleasure. My cock slides in and out of your asshole. I feel your warm hole wrapped around my cock, sliding around it.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes… yes, sir.”

I start in faster and harder, letting my hips slap against your bruised ass.

“Do you want to cum?”

You gasp. I thrust and press myself deep into you. I pull you against me.

“I asked you a question. Do you want to cum?”

“Ye… Yes… Yes, sir.”

Now, I pump you hard and fast. Slamming into you. I can feel how intense the pain is as I ram you again and again.

My cock begins to swell. I feel the orgasm begin in my balls, and in the pit of my stomach.

“You will not cum!”

I jam myself in as the first pulse goes through my dick. I can feel my cum squirting into you. I pump in and out, letting your asshole ride my cock as I shoot my juices into your tight asshole.

I stand up straight as the last pulse runs through me. I relax and slowly pull my cock out of your wet hole. I step back, then walk around you, running my hand over your ass, again.

“Is this going to happen again?,” I ask.

“No, sir.”

“Good. Because next time it will be much worse.”