by Maren Smith
“Now,” Master Marshall softly asked, his hand returning to her stinging sex. “Do you object to having your pussy spanked?”
Kaylee shook her head violently back and forth, her tiny gasps as he caressed her, his fingertips again wandering in circles all around her throbbing clit, his thumb sweeping in lazy strokes back and forth through her wet folds, not penetrating, but rising high to settle full upon the clenching bud of her anus. He didn’t penetrating her there either.
“Vocalize your responses, please.”
“No,” she gasped, and he spanked her again. “No, sir! Oh!” She kicked both feet, snapping them quickly back down again and stiffening her entire body, her bottom tucking and writhing in tight, tiny circles, trying to keep time with the quickening strokes of his petting fingers.
“Keep your feet down. You can kick—” He flicked at her clit, then spanked again, a clap of brisk sound and an intensely pleasurable sting that made her whole body spasm and lock. “You can buck—” Flick, smack. “—wiggle and cry, but if you raise your feet higher than your knees, then I am going to—” Flick, smack. Smack. SMACK! “—punish you.”
Her clenching hand abandoned his shin, shooting back to grab at—his hand, her own thigh, she didn’t know—but it worked. He paused, albeit only long enough to catch her wrist. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pinned her errant hand to her side and then he was spanking her bottom. For real this time.
At first, it seemed her body could not process the startling sensation. Her clit still hummed. Her pussy throbbed and pulsed, so jolted by that first sharp impact that, for a moment, she could have sworn what she’d felt instead was the first hard penetrating thrust of sex. But it didn’t hurt. Not right then. No, at first it was only an impact, mirrored by the crisp sound of skin striking bare, squirming skin and warming under the heat of his caressing palm as he soothed her squirming cheeks. His hand rasped down the backs of each thigh in turn, and on the upward stroke, the tips of his fingers or thumb lightly brushed her labia.
The sting didn’t come until three or four swats later, when he began to really spank her. The broad flat of his hand lay brisk, staccato swats across the full swells of each bottom cheek. Right, left. Right, left. Steady as a metronome and just hard enough to let her really feel it. The heat of his palm radiated out of his flesh and into hers. Right, left; again and again. The sting began to grow, spreading outward with each descending clap until it encompassed every curving inch of her bottom and the sting was suddenly everywhere, not just growing, but growing teeth. The sting was becoming uncomfortable. It was becoming…pain.
Right, left, smack! His open palm came to a sharp rest full across her exposed pussy, and Kaylee jumped nearly all the way off his lap. His restraining arm tightened across her back, holding her in place while he rubbed, soothing the hurt. His finger slicked up and down along her slit, parting her to lodge at the molten, clenching core of her.
“Do you object to having your pussy penetrated?”
“No, sir!” Kaylee gasped, and her whole body rocked as she was invaded.
He thrust all the way up until his palm butted against her. His finger curled inside her, stroking, seeking, finding that secret spot that dropped Kaylee flat against the couch. Her free hand slapped the cushion; her captured one clawed the empty air. She grabbed the back of his shirt, needing desperately to be anchored somehow as he thrust, withdrew and thrust again, slapping and grinding into her pussy, touching her in ways no one had ever before tried.
And then she felt it, the brush of his thumb as he settling directly over her anus. When he began to apply pressure, her whole body jolted into shocked stillness.
“W-wait!” she gasped, her throat tightening on the objection as if her body sought to pull it back.
“Do you object to having your ass penetrated?”
Everything inside her tightened, a feeling both awful and erotic all at once.
A good girl would have said yes. A good girl never would have come here in the first place.
“No,” Kaylee whispered, so thoroughly shocked by that admission that she could only lie there, staring without seeing the sofa cushion below her, absorbing the sensation of his pressing fingers.
She expected him to sink into her then, but he didn’t. In a knife-sharp stroke of friction, he withdrew his hand and began spanking her again. Harder than before. Almost harder than she could endure.
“What did I tell you about respect?” he said mildly, almost as though amused, and yet that softness was not reflected in his hand. Sting became fire and the fire burned her deeply, encompassing the whole of her bottom until that glorious, wounded throbbing was all she could feel.
Until her pussy was pulsing in time with each new clap of his hand.
Until his attention suddenly shifted southward, and Master Marshall lay three sharp spanks to the backs of each of her thighs. Virgin, unprepared skin registered none of that as erotic or wonderful. For the first time, it just plain hurt.
Kaylee kicked up both feet, only to snap them back down again just as fast. For the first time, she really fought his hold, if only for a few frantic, mindless seconds. It gained her absolutely nothing. His hold was absolute. Her legs remained widely parted. Her right hand remained trapped against her side. His arm across the small of her back kept her pinned in place.
He did not spank her again, but instead asked, “Do you object to having your thighs spanked?”
“Yes, sir!” she gasped, half aware of how she must look, her bottom clenching and humping upon his knee, writhing in time and tempo with the throbbing smart spreading down the backs of both legs. He didn’t strike again, but it didn’t matter. In the absence of spanking, the hurt only seemed to grow. “Oh! Oh!”
“Because it hurts?”
“Yes, sir! Yes, it does!” Boy, did it ever! Only just beginning to calm, Kaylee pressed her forehead into the couch cushion. She wished she could get her hands back there long enough to rub.
“Should disciplinary spankings not hurt?” he countered.
Kaylee twisted, trying to catch sight of him back over her shoulder. Her hair kept getting in the way. “Yes, sir…I guess.”
“Are you then more interested in receiving only erotic spankings, rather than the mixture of erotic and disciplinary specified in your application?” The backs of his fingers caressed a single stroke down the flushed, aching flesh of each thigh in turn. Sensitivity heightened dizzily, leaving her tingling everywhere he’d touched.
“No, sir,” she said, honesty softening her words until they were barely more than a whisper. “I just…I haven’t done anything wrong. I wasn’t prepared for it, that’s all.”
“Do you always need a reason?”
His fingernails lightly scraped from thigh to thigh, crossing over skin so sensitive that her whole body erupted in an intensely erotic version of the willies. Her eyes closed against her will. His hand moved on, tracing, scratching, leaving that delicate line that bisected her bottom and thighs to climb the gentle curve of her burning ass. He teased the fire he had built, stirring the flames until she couldn’t stop herself from writhing all over again.
“Do you?” he pressed.
She moaned, shaking her head.
“Do bad girls not deserve to receive spankings they won’t necessarily enjoy?”
Oh God. Kaylee arched, her arms and legs straining against his hold, wanting anything but to break free as his touch traced down the crack of her ass, coming closer, closer to where she wanted most to feel his teasing touch. His fingertips stopped just short of her labia. “Yes! Yes, sir, please!”
“Do bad little girls deserve to have their thighs spanked?” He was circling her sex now, endless, lazy tracing motions that dipped into the moisture trickling down her thighs without dipping in far enough to sate her need. No matter how she twisted and arched, pushing back in pursuit of his fingers, even riding his knee, she could not force his hand where she needed it most to go.
His hand abruptly with
drew and slapped her pussy, a light spank that stung just hard enough to curl her toes up tight in the ends of her shoes.
“Do they?” he demanded.
“Yes, sir!” She was so desperately tuned to his touch that it was all she wanted right then, but his fingers abandoned her needy sex. He skimmed across her anus, drifting back up along the crease between her clenching buttocks to play once among the throbbing flames.
“What are you, Kaylee?” he asked, sultry and low. His hand came to rest on her left leg, the tips of his fingers burning her inner thigh just inches below her achingly empty pussy. “Are you a naughty little girl?”
His voice moved over her, soothing, calming, devastating her and leaving her whimpering. Not so much from what he’d said but from what she knew was going to happen if she agreed with him. And she did want to agree. Right then, she wanted it with every wildly frantic nuance of her mind, body and sexual soul.
“What are you?” he coaxed. “Answer me.”
His voice and fingers teased. Kaylee hid her face in her arm. She locked her lips together, tucking her chin up tight against her chest and pressing her forehead into the yielding cushion below. She shook her head.
Breathe, just breathe. Don’t answer.
“Are you a bad little girl who wasn’t quite honest on her application?” He moved his hand, letting it come to rest on her right thigh now. That slight brush of his thumb passed through her as if on electric waves. “Talk to me, Kaylee. What are you?”
Don’t answer.
She arched again, throwing back her head, staring desperately up at the ceiling. How was it possible to keep burning hotter and not catch fire? She locked her lips again, turning her next whimper into a mewling hum, no longer as frightened of the pain of having her thighs spanked as much as she was of the humiliation attached to what he wanted her to confess.
And she was going to say it. Already the words were coming, rushing up out of her chest, sticking in her throat, choking her.
“Tell me, young lady.”
She shook her head, but the need was stronger than her embarrassment. “I…” She only just choked it back down again.
He shifted his touch again, this time boldly cupping between her thighs, burning her with the heat of his palm. “Do you know how wet you are, Kaylee? What kind of girl lets her pussy get this wet when her naughty bottom is being spanked?”
He spanked her—the slap so very gentle and yet so incredibly hard to take—and the impact as it landed directly on her labia sounded mortifyingly exactly as he’d said: wet. He slicked his fingers through her sex, seeking and finding the throbbing peak of her clit. He captured it, pinching until she stiffened sharply upon his knee.
“What are you, Kaylee?” he demanded, and she wept, her body more charged and alive than ever she had felt it before.
“I—” She began to cry and she didn’t even know why. “I’m a b-bad girl.”
“Bad girls need to be spanked, don’t they?”
“Yes!” she gasped.
“On their bottoms and their thighs?”
“Yes!”
His hold on her clit tightened first, then began to rub, a full-on assault that had her grinding helplessly in response. “They need to have their pretty little pussies slapped, don’t they?”
She groaned, “Yes!”
“Are you going to get down on your knees when I let you go? Are you going to swallow every drop and show Daddy you know how to be good, or is Daddy going to have to bend you over the couch and punish you in other ways?”
“I’ll be good! I’ll be good!” So close. She was so very close. Her body tensed, shivering and spasming, locking down on the tiny, erotic shocks that sparked beneath his fingers and shot up through her sex to burst inside her womb.
“Get up.”
When he released her, Kaylee scrambled to obey. She’d have hit her knees at a look, but he released her wrist only to catch the back of her neck. The next thing she knew, she was being marched—awkwardly tripping on her puddled clothing—into the nearest corner.
“Hands on the wall,” he said, and her body singing with unappeased arousal, she obeyed. “Do not move from this spot.”
He left her there, her bottom blazing and on bright pink display, so aroused that her legs felt like rubber and it was all she could do to keep her palms pressed flat against the cool castle stones.
Master Marshall returned to his desk. She heard the creak of his chair as he sat down and began to write. One minute passed into two. Her arousal dimmed into frustration, leaving her on the verge of tears. She squeezed her thighs, wishing she was brave enough to take her hands off the wall long enough to bring back the lust.
Behind her, she heard the chair creak as Master Marshall stood again. A cupboard door opened, then closed, and then he was crossing the room again, coming quietly up behind her. Kaylee trembled in response, that familiar surge rising hard in anticipation of his touch. A folded piece of paper came into her field of vision even as the heat of him brushed at her back. She lifted two fingers off the wall, making it easier for him to slip the note into her grasp.
“This is your change of wardrobe and new scenario. We are going to leave Judy in the dungeon with the fantasy that did not work. Your new name is Sarah, and this one I think will be much more to your liking.”
She closed her eyes when she felt his arm slid around her waist, closing that scant inch of distance between them as he pulled her back into his embrace.
“Hands on the wall,” he told her, burning her stomach with his palms. He caressed her, one hand moving down between her shivering thighs, the other rising to slip in under her shirt, gliding up over her ribs until he found the cloth barrier of her bra. Found and dismissed it, slipping his fingers under the bottom band and pushing that miscellaneous undergarment out of his way. He left it, a wrinkle of useless cloth still wrapped around her upper chest with her trembling breasts bared to him beneath. “You will not cum before I say.”
His warm breath caressed her ear and, as if only she needed the suggestion breathed back into her, just that fast Kaylee was back on the edge. All sturdiness melted out of her legs when he cupped between them, sliding his fingers into her moist heat. His hand burned her breast, squeezing and kneading her soft flesh, stroking and plucking at her nipples until they stood stiff and aching for his attention.
She laid her head upon his shoulder, her bottom pushing back against him, finding the unmistakable bulge of his erection and grinding down upon it. With both hands, he teased her, the caress of one bringing her right up onto her tiptoes, the plucking pinch of the other trying to drop her to her knees. He took her right to the edge, stroking until her whole body burned and shook, until she could feel her orgasm nipping at her, growing teeth with which to punish her the longer she tried to obey him and deny it.
“Please, sir,” she begged.
His grip on her nipple became gently crueler. His fingers assaulted her clit, driving her ruthlessly to the brink. “Do you think you deserve to cum?”
She blushed furiously. “No.”
She never heard the knock at the door. All her attention was locked on the mercy of his touch and the amusement in his voice. “I’ll reward your honesty. Cum for me. Right now or not at all.”
If not for him, she’d have fallen to her knees with the wracking force of her orgasm. She caught a gasping breath and held it, arching back to seize his shoulders, unable to make herself let go while her limbs shook and stars sparked and died behind her eyes. Bliss receded slowly, leaving her trembling in his arms, feeling as if she were drifting, lapped by waves of such weary contentment that it was a wonder her legs could support her at all.
The pinch of his fingers freeing her nipple, Master Marshall released her breast. With one last petting stroke, he pulled his other hand from between her legs. His fingers glistened, painted slick with her moisture. He brought them to his mouth, tasted her briefly on the tip of his tongue and rumbled his approval.
“O
pen,” he commanded, bringing his fingers to her lips. The taste of herself was something she had never thought about before. Part of her knew she should be repulsed, but she obeyed when he ordered it and opened her mouth. “Suck.”
She cleaned every last drop of herself from his fingers—her whole body shivering—until all she could taste as she licked and flicked at him with her tongue was him.
“Good girl,” he soothed, taking his hand away. He tugged a stray wisp of long brown hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear and then tilting up her chin so as to better see her. Whatever he read from her expression must have satisfied him because he nodded once and then went to answer the door. “Abigail,” he greeted, stepping back to admit a woman in a long black gown. Though she had not been among the servants in the courtyard, there was no forgetting that costume or the austere back bun, coiled at the nape of her unadorned neck. She looked exactly like the other governesses who had led the majority of her fellow vacationers, Selena included, away into the castle.
“This is Sarah,” Master Marshall introduced, beckoning for her to come to them.
“A naughty Sarah, I see,” Abigail answered, hands folded over her trim waist.
God, her pants and panties were still tangled around her ankles.
Dropping, Kaylee quickly jerked them both up at once, wincing at the unexpected sensitivity that turned the cotton of her underwear into coarse sandpaper when it scraped up over her bottom. That slight touch rekindled the heat from her spanking, something her jeans amplified when she tried to fasten herself back into them. Her expression must have bordered on ridiculous because, though they didn’t laugh at her, both master and governess began to smile.
“She’ll need a change in wardrobe,” he said, reaching for her arm to remove the black bracelet, replacing it with a pink one, “and a gentle hand until she gets a feel for the nursery.”
Nursery? Kaylee snapped her eyes to his.
