He placed one of the throw pillows on his lap. “Come on up, Sugar.”
This was his favorite position for spanking me. It was comfortable for us both. I arranged myself across his lap with my knees underneath me and my ass lifted. The pillow he’d put on his lap took some of the stress off my knees and allowed me to maintain my position longer.
Immediately I felt the roughness of his palm against my posterior. It moved in circles, stimulating me in unexpected ways. Normally before a spanking I was a bundle of nerves, but not this time. Or maybe I was strung so tightly that the slightest touch was magnified. By the time his forays spread to my upper thighs, the small moan in my throat deepened and defied containment.
He started lightly, warming up his hand and my bottom. Soon the force doubled, and doubled again. As I cried out, I became aware of tears wetting my cheeks. Blows rained across both cheeks and my upper thighs. A few caught my pussy, and each time, my ass lifted higher to give him better access.
My ass was on fire, but I didn’t want him to stop. I begged him for more, and he didn’t let up. Now the blows centered more and more around my pussy. All of a sudden, a climax detonated in my core. Sounds of pleasure mixed with misery. Tears dripped from my eyes, and the languor of orgasm calmed my insides.
Sir picked me up and turned me around. He wrapped a soft blanket around me and cradled me in his warm embrace. “You did wonderfully, Sugar. That was a beautiful climax. Thank you for giving yourself to me, for trusting me to make sure you got what you needed. I love you so much.”
He talked to me, whispers and murmurs of praise and affection, until my sobs had quieted. I clung to him, my anchor in this maelstrom.