Aching to Submit

by Natasha Knight

  “What did I tell you about your hands?” Michael asked, gripping both of them in one of his and holding them at her low back. He struck again, harder this time, pushing her down onto the bed so her torso pressed against it, forcing her hips higher as her bottom took the next blow.

  “Ow, ow, ow!” she cried, struggling against his hold. “Wait, please. Please just a minute.” She was struggling to get free now, shifting her hips from side to side to avoid the blows, fighting him.

  He struck twice more, then stopped. “All right,” he said, lifting her by one arm. He pushed the pillows off the bed and pulled her across his lap, trapping her legs beneath one of his and her hands at her low back. Her torso rested partially on the bed, but he shifted the position a little so she hung off his thighs.

  She groaned with the next strike of the paddle, this change in position, her being bent over his knee, almost giving him better access. Maybe it was that she couldn’t struggle as much or that her struggling had less impact on what was happening. She lost track of the count she’d been keeping without ever being aware she’d been counting and just concentrated on the pain, the heat of her bottom, and the heat that spread throughout her body, causing her to break out in a sweat.

  “When I first saw you there at the club,” he said while continuing to spank her hard, “I could have killed that man. I could have killed him for touching you.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she cried out. “It hurts, please stop, Michael. I’m sorry.”

  “Then when I found out what it was all about,” he continued, striking the crease between thigh and buttock, then the outer curve of her right hip.

  She moaned in pain, her fantasies of spanking very different from this painful reality.

  She turned to look over her shoulder, her face contorted in pain, her vision blurry with tears.

  “Michael,” she said.

  He met her gaze and stopped for a moment.

  “Sir, I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

  His eyes were moist even as she felt the thick shaft of his cock at her belly. She heard the paddle drop to the floor and his hand was on her bottom caressing her sore, swollen flesh. He released her hands and she reached to the floor to support herself with one while wiping at her eyes with the other.

  “Breathe,” he said, his voice calm, even.

  She nodded and tried to take a deep breath, but it came in in shudders.

  “Shh, it’s okay, it’s over,” he said, lifting her onto his lap, spreading his thighs so her bottom was between his legs. He held her to him, rubbing her back, her head until she found she had no more tears to cry.

  She looked up at him, bringing her tear-stained lips to his. He kissed her and it was perhaps the most intimate kiss they’d ever shared.

  Slowly, he rose to stand and deposited her on her feet.

  He looked down at her.

  “How do you feel?” he asked, pushing away the wisps of hair that had slipped from her braid and now stuck to her wet face.

  “It hurts,” she began, “but I feel better,” she finished. Strangely, she understood the emotion. The physical punishment had somehow worked to alleviate her of the guilt of her lies, her deceit. She hadn’t imagined it worked like this. This was, in fact, very different from what she’d envisioned at all.

  He took her face in his hands as if he were touching her for the first time. She put her hands on his chest, then slid them down to grasp his cock, thick and hard and ready for her. But when she began to unbuckle his belt, he covered her hand with his and shook his head.

  “Paddling is over but your punishment is not. Not yet,” he said, his voice controlled.

  She looked at him, confused, but followed when he walked her over to the wall.

  “Fifteen minutes,” he said, turning her so her nose was in the corner. “Put your hands up. Here, on the wall,” he said. “Don’t touch your bottom. I want to watch you like this.”

  She followed him with her worried gaze as he walked away, unbuttoning his shirt as he did. She heard the zipper of his pants as he continued to strip and she wanted nothing more than to mount him, climb on top of him, and take his cock deep inside her. She wanted him to fuck her, to make her come. Her pussy was dripping, smearing juice on her thigh even as her ass burned with the heat of her punishment.

  He made a noise from the bed. “Christ, you look fucking fantastic. Your ass, Soph, is amazing,” he said.

  She met his gaze.

  “No, nose to the wall. I still owe you a few strokes for not using the proper address earlier, but we’ll do those tomorrow morning. Now, I’m just going to watch you.”

  He was quiet after that and fifteen minutes felt like an hour as she stood staring at the white wall, her nose touching it, feeling thoroughly chastised, thoroughly aroused. She needed to come, her pussy was swollen, her clit throbbed, wanting, wanting, wanting.

  “Come here,” he called finally.

  She turned to find him naked on the bed, his thick cock in his hand, the head of it glistening.

  “On your hands and knees on the bed and suck my cock,” he said.

  She climbed up eagerly and when he fisted a handful of her hair to guide her roughly, she moaned, a fresh trail of her arousal slick on her thighs. She lifted her ass higher as she brought her face to his lap, his hand managing the fucking of her mouth. She tasted him, the slick, salty dew and wanted him to come in her mouth, to make her swallow, to punish her again if she spilled even a drop.

  But he stopped and pulled her off of him with a groan.

  “I need to be inside that pussy tonight,” he said. “Show it to me. Turn around, get your ass in the air and your face on the bed, and show me your pussy.”

  He’d never talked to her like this. No, that wasn’t true, he had. She’d just always been too embarrassed to encourage it.

  She turned to offer herself to him, just as he’d ordered. She spread her legs wide and buried her face in the bed, squealing when he slapped her beaten, tender flesh, but only lifted higher when his cock penetrated her drenched pussy in one hard thrust. He fucked her hard, his hands on her still burning cheeks, spreading her open. When his thumb closed over her anus, she moaned into the bed, her orgasm so violent, so severe, that the pleasure matched the pain of the punishment she’d just taken. Her pussy clenched around his cock as his thumb pressed into her back hole and she could only gasp for breath as he stilled, filling her as he climaxed.

  She heard only his ragged breath once he began to slowly pull out of her.

  “Christ,” he said. “No, stay. I want to watch you a little longer.”

  Sophie remained as she was, her face reddening as she heard him settle back, unwilling to meet his gaze. She felt embarrassed, but at the same time, reveled in her exposure, her vulnerability. Every emotion and thought warred with every other emotion and thought—even confusion with complete and utter understanding.

  When she felt the leaking of his semen as it spilled out of her and slowly trailed down her thigh, she made a small sound, ashamed but also wanting just exactly this. Needing this humiliation, this shame.

  “Look at me,” he said. She turned her face slightly so she could see him out of one eye. He was leaning against the headboard, one arm overhead, completely relaxed. “You liked when I pushed my finger inside your ass, didn’t you?” he asked.

  She could only stare for a moment as heat flushed her face red.

  “The five tomorrow morning are going to be hard enough, I imagine. You don’t want to make it six, Soph,” he said.

  “Yes, Sir,” she quickly supplied.

  “Yes, Sir, what? Say it. Tell me what you liked, what you want. Trust me.”

  She lifted her head up and kept her eyes at a point just beyond his shoulder. “Yes, Sir. I liked when you… pushed your finger inside me. Inside… my ass.”

  He smiled a satisfied smile and climbed off the bed, slapping her hip once.

  Sh
e flinched and he grinned.

  “Let’s have a shower, get you cleaned up,” he said.

  Chapter Seven

  The alarm went off at half past six the next morning. Michael hit snooze and rolled onto his side, collecting Sophie into his arms.

  “Ouch,” she winced.

  He eased back a little, knowing she’d be sore from last night, considering not giving her the five he promised this morning. This was new to him, very new. He’d never even hand spanked a girlfriend. Well, that wasn’t true. He’d done it once in high school more as a joke, a dare from the girl. Although he couldn’t recall her name, he remembered that night well. She’d been pretty bratty and when he’d called her on it, she’d taunted him into spanking her. He’d gotten hard, he remembered that much. But back then, it didn’t take much to get him hard.

  Sophie’s braid had come partially undone during the night. She’d slept through the night though, which he knew didn’t happen regularly. In fact, most nights when she’d wake up, he’d lie there pretending to be asleep especially if he heard her crying, at a loss for how to talk to her after so many months of silence.

  At that thought, he pulled her tight to him just as the alarm went off again. He kissed her softly on her ear, pushing the hair away. She moaned and turned her face to his.

  “Good morning,” he whispered, kissing her again.

  “Mmm… Good morning,” she replied, her eyes still closed.

  “Remember,” he said.

  She opened her eyes, rubbing out the sleep.

  “Five strokes this morning.” His cock was hard.

  “But I’m sore,” she protested.

  “All the surer you’ll remember to use the Sir next time. I’m going to have a shower; stay in bed. I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said, rolling over onto his pillow and watching him as he went into the bathroom.

  His cock was hard throughout his shower and he knew just what he’d have her do to relieve him. He shaved and splashed aftershave onto his face and neck. It was a scent she’d chosen for him when they were first dating, one he’d used ever since. He brushed his hair and, without dressing, returned to the bedroom to find Sophie sitting up, holding the paddle.

  She held it out to him. “How do you want me, Sir?” she asked.

  He took the paddle from her, any hesitation he’d had about giving her these five disappearing. She wanted it.

  “Lie on your stomach and slip my pillow beneath your hips,” he said.

  She pushed the blankets off and positioned his pillow beneath her hips, then tucked her arms under her chest.

  “I’m ready. I think. Sir.”

  Michael looked at her, his cock thicker and harder at the sight of her lying there offering herself up to him. He’d always loved her ass. Sophie didn’t have much in the way of breasts, less than a handful even, but her ass more than made up for it. She was thin with a fairly small waist, but her hips swelled nicely, her buttocks round and lush for the rest of her petite form. She was still marked from last night, but he’d get better at this, figure out how to use the various implements, what to do when. Last night when he’d asked her to go stand in the corner, it had just seemed like a natural transition. The way they’d fucked, the image of her on all fours would be branded on his mind forever. He felt like some part of him had come up for air. It was strange, something he didn’t understand.

  He’d talk to Kyan some more. They’d spent over an hour talking yesterday and Michael trusted that he’d done nothing but behave in a polite, gentlemanly manner with his wife. He’d genuinely wanted to help her, guide her. Michael knew it was strange, but he somehow trusted the man.

  Sophie glanced over her shoulder at him and he realized all this time he was thinking, watching, enjoying, she’d been anticipating.

  “I like the look of your ass,” he said. “Face forward and we’ll get this done. If you move your hands out to cover yourself, we’ll have a repeat of last night when I get home from work. Clear?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  She turned and when he touched the paddle to her buttock, she immediately clenched.

  “No. Keep them soft, I want them soft.”

  It took her a moment, but she did it and he raised the paddle. Although he used half the force he’d used last night, he made sure to bring it down over a bruise, unable to resist doing so. It satisfied him in a strange, unnatural, unnerving way.

  Sophie made a sound, as if breath was forced from her with the blow, but he didn’t pause. He struck again on her other cheek, on another bruise that marked the sit spot, watching her fleshy buttocks flattening out and then bouncing back after the strike. Even as the strokes were at half the strength, he imagined they would have felt worse to her over her already sore bottom.

  He rubbed her buttocks again with the paddle and she remained in position until he delivered the final blows. He wondered if she’d be able to take a beating like last night in silence once she was better trained. The thought intrigued him, excited some part of him. He liked the idea of her submitting to it without needing to be held down. It turned him on. Although the thought of her in bonds also turned him on.

  He checked himself and set the paddle down. What the hell was wrong with him? This was his wife he was talking about beating.

  “It’s over, baby,” he said, kneeling on the bed to massage her buttocks.

  “Those hurt.”

  “Probably because of last night, I hardly used any force this morning.”

  She eyed his cock when she turned over onto her side.

  “You don’t get to come this morning. Not until after I’m gone at least,” he said. “Instead, you get to suck my cock. I’m going to come in your mouth and you’re going to swallow. If you spill any of it, I’ll paddle you again tonight, understand?” he asked, his voice not hard, just aroused.

  She licked her lips as he brought her head toward his cock. She opened her mouth and touched the tip of her tongue to the head of it, circling first, then taking him into her mouth. He could just reach her ass and slipped his hand between her legs.

  “Christ, your pussy is soaked, girl,” he said. He pressed one finger inside her, then two before moving to rub her clit.

  She moaned and slowed her sucking.

  “No, don’t come. If you come, you’ll be in trouble.”

  This time her sound was one of pure displeasure, but she refocused her attention where he wanted it, on his cock. He’d never pushed her to take him to the back of her throat. Whenever she gagged, he’d back off, but this morning, he pressed on.

  She looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears, and he put his hands on either side of her head.

  “You can do it, Soph. Relax your throat, open for me. That’s it, girl,” he coached. “I’m going to fuck your mouth more often. Look at me, baby; keep those gorgeous eyes on me. I want to watch you swallow.”

  His grip on her hair tightened and with the next thrust, his cock twitched, then pumped the first stream of semen down her throat. He watched her take it, her tears making him want to go deeper, to fill her up. Only when he was thoroughly spent did he slowly pull out. He then watched her, her eyes still turned up to his. She put a hand over her mouth, but did as she’d been told, swallowing what was left.

  Michael smiled. “Good girl,” he said, petting her head. He sat down and she laid her head on his lap. “I wish I didn’t have to go to these meetings,” he said. His flight to Paris was in two hours.

  “It’s just one night at least.”

  “You’re sweet,” he said, looking down at her, touching her cheek.

  She turned her head to kiss his palm. He allowed it, watching her all the while as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with an adoration he’d not seen before. When she smiled, he took his thumb and touched it to her lips, then, pushing slightly, traced the shape of them.

  “I want you to do something for me,” he began.
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  “Okay, what?”

  “I want you waxed bare front to back. Take all the hair off your pussy for me. Can you do that?”

  “Ouch,” she said. “Sadist,” she added, joking.

  He paused, looking at her.

  “I’ll make an appointment for next week.”

  He shook his head. “Sooner,” he said.

  “But the bruises,” she began.

  “It’s none of anyone’s business.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Get back into bed, get some more sleep,” he said.

  She put his pillow back on his side of the bed and lay on her side, still looking at him. Michael tucked her in.

  “You okay?” he asked, rubbing her temple with the back of his hand.

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes,” she said. “More than okay.”

  “We’ll talk about what happened last night when I get home. Get our feelings sorted. Yeah?” he asked, suddenly worried he shouldn’t be leaving her alone, worried she might need him.

  She must have seen it in his eyes because she sat up and took his hand, bringing it to her face. She closed her eyes and laid her cheek in his palm. “Don’t worry, I’m okay. I’m happy,” she said, opening her eyes to gaze at him. “I’m happy that I don’t have to hide anymore.”

  Michael cupped her face and brought his lips to her forehead, just pressing them against her. “I love you, baby.”

  “I love you.”

  * * *

  Sophie watched as he walked out, closing the bedroom door behind him. She climbed out of the bed and opened the curtains. Michael went out the front door, slipping his arm through his jacket. She heard the beeping of the car door and watched as he slid his computer bag into the back seat before climbing into the driver’s side. Before he closed the door, he glanced up and caught her eye. He raised a hand and smiled a small smile, then closed the door and drove off.

  She turned back into the room and looked around. Finding the paddle on the floor, she picked it up. Her bottom twitched and her pussy clenched. The sensations so opposed one another, but at the same time, went hand in hand. Walking to the full-length mirror, she turned to look at herself. She gasped at what she saw there.