Thursday, 31 May 2012

Lauren, Part Seven

My belt is over two inches wide and when doubled over the heavyweight leather makes for a fearsome instrument of correction, and Lauren jerked her head involuntarily as the cruel black leather left its imprint upon her bare, helpless bottom.

I paused after the first stroke had been laid on to admire my handiwork, but also to give Lauren a moment that would allow the bite of the leather to really sink into her consciousness. I saw that she had clenched her teeth with her lips wide open and was breathing heavily through her mouth as she rode the  kiss of the leather. Her bottom was already marked with a redness that was as wide as the belt, but more noticeable on her right cheek. As I was standing on her left that made sense, but it would mean that I would have to move to the other side of the bed later to even out the colouring as it were.

That was for the future. For the present I lifted my arm again and brought it down with all the force of my shoulder muscles behind it onto that helpless bottom that lay underneath. About an inch above Lauren's rump I flicked my hand backwards so that the belt carried on under its own momentum, but only the end catching her bottom with all its might.

"Please God, this is hurting. You lay it on as hard as he did. It's like my dad's back whupping me again," Lauren cried out with all the power of her lungs. 

"Keep still. Remain in position. If you move you will be given extra, that I can promise you," I said by way of reply. Lauren had made no attempt to move, by the way, but I still feel that it did her now harm to hear my command, just in case she was planning anything silly.

Lauren calmed herself down and dropped her head into her fists again. I waited a moment - one should always wait a moment I feel - and then I delivered strokes three, four, five and six, one after the other. Each one hard, and each one meant to hurt, as I taught that saucy young doxy to know her place.

Having administered the first half dozen I walked around to the other side of the bed as I felt that is was time to give the other cheek some kisses. Before I began the second stage of the thrashing, I took a moment to press Lauren deep into the pillows and order her to arch her back for the remaining strokes. Apart for a single whimper she made no sound as she carried out my orders. Then, with her back arched to my satisfaction, I raised the wicked leather again and brought it down with a firm, solid whack across a bottom that was rapidly lost its moon-like hue and was now beginning to resemble a hot august sun.

I then gave her the second half dozen, calmly and methodically, and as each cut landed all Lauren did was twist her hips involuntarily and clench her buttock cheeks. I waited as I always do until she had relaxed her bottom before I laid on another stroke. When she failed to relax after one particularly ferocious kiss I told her quite simply that if she did not loosen her bottom for the belt then I would add extra strokes to the punishment. She did as she was ordered and apart from that one moment of insolence, the girl did not give me an ounce of trouble when undergoing her correction.

A dozen strokes had then been well laid on and Lauren was sobbing heartily into her hands. As I paused to consider the work in progress she turned to look at me with her tear streaked face and she began to nplead for mercy and forgiveness:

"Please, please, I have sure enough learned my lesson. Please daddy, let me go and I will be a good girl from now on," she begged.

Should I let her go? That was the question that ran through my mind. Then I decided that a bottom under the hand is worth any number travelling off to the United States and out of reach, and I told her my decision:

"I'll give you six more to grow on!"

"Nooooo, please, that is too many," she whimpered, still making no attempt to either cover her bottom or get up from the bed. Clearly the odd protest was allowable under her father's old rules, but anything else was strictly forbidden, and Lauren had taken that lesson to heart.

"Arch your back. Relax your buttock cheeks, or you will receive extra," I told her. Lauren did as she was told with only a minimum of fuss and I raised my arm for the thirteenth time that day.

Crack! The leather bit into Lauren's sorely tried buttocks, as it did again with number fourteen and then again with the fifteenth cut. I noticed as this last tranche was being administered that Lauren riding her hips up and down in a way that can only be described as lascivious. As I walked around to the other side to administer the final three she continued to do that and I realised with an involuntary smile that she was in sexual ecstasy.

I lifted the belt three more times and each time I  brought it down with a solid crack across her Lauren's fiery red buttock cheeks. As each crack landed Lauren gasped and ground her pussy deeper into the pillow, her teeth clenched in the snarl of a lioness as the leather bit into her helpless flesh.

"Please stop now. Please I'm begging you," she said.

That was fine by me as my arm was aching and I considered the punishment to be over anyway. I ran my hand down Lauren's back and when I reached her bottom I let my fingers play down it until I reached her pussy. Then I slipped my middle finger inside her and she arched her back upwards to receive it.

"My, my, what an excited little whore you are," was all I said.

To be continued.

No comments:

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...