The doorbell sounds and I quickly dry my hands at the sink. I rush to the door, and open it. My heart quickens as I see you – a familiar face draped by curly brown hair flowing down to meet a green blouse. But your smile… It’s different: timid, reserved. Your hands rest stiffly at your sides.
“Come in!” I say with a gesture of my hand.
You enter cautiously. I close the door. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask.
“Yes, I’m sure. Let’s get it over with.”
“Ok, then. Go to my room and wait for me.”
You obey without a word. I hear my bedroom door shut gently. I circle the living room, shutting each window. I do the same in the 2nd bedroom. I turn on the fan, and the TV. Finally, I enter my bedroom.
You’re sitting on the bed with your hands in your lap. You look up at me expectantly. “Stand up Isabel. Pull down your pants and bend over the bed.”
I watch as your fingers undo the snaps on your jeans, and pull down the zipper. Your pants fall to your ankles revealing your white panties, and your lightly tanned legs.
“I’m only doing this because you’re my friend and I care about you,” I say as I furrow my brow.
“I know,” you say. You turn toward the bed and bend over the side.
“Will you hold my hand?” you ask with your head buried into the comforter.
I take your right hand in mine and pin it to your lower back. Our fingers interlace, and you hold tightly. Your hand feels small in mine – delicate, and feminine. “Isabel, why are you being punished this afternoon?” I ask.
You clear your throat. “I am being punished because I drove home drunk last week, and when you asked me how I got home, I lied.”
I lay a firm smack on your left butt cheek. You jerk forward, and inhale sharply.
“That was a taste of what’s coming. 10 minutes of non-stop spanking for drunk driving, and lying. I hope it was worth it,” I say firmly. I pull my phone out from my pocket and hold down the home button. “Siri, set a timer for 10 minutes.”
“You’re timer is set for 10 minutes!” says Siri with a British accent. I toss the phone on the bed.
“This is for your own good Isabel,” I say as I draw my hand back once more.
“No wait!” you exclaim.
“Excuse me? Do I need to add another five minutes?” I say in my best attempt at sounding annoyed.
“Use your belt. That’s what I deserve. It’s the only way I’ll learn.”
I pause… I’m taken aback.
“Then pull down your panties. If you want the belt you’re gonna get it the old fashioned way.”
You reach back, and inch down your underwear, revealing a pale, tender moon. I unbuckle my belt, and fold it in half. I draw it back and whip it across your cheeks. I take your hand in mine again, and our fingers interlock. As I whip you a 2nd, and third time I feel your hand squeeze mine. You squeeze harder with each crack of the belt. You gasp, and moan. As I spank you, I can’t help but relish in the sight of your shapely bottom shifting, and jerking with each “whap” that echoes off the dry-wall. Your moans become louder. I begin to scold with each spank, reminding you of how “naughty you are,” and how you have been “a bad, bad girl.” Finally, the ringtone sounds.
I drop the belt on the bed, and pick up my phone as I release your hand. “Did that teach you something?” I ask.
“I think so,” you reply with labored breath.
“You think so…?”
“Yah…that hurt sooo bad, but I’m really wet!”
“You’re naughtier than I thought.” I say as I caress your bottom. I admire the red belt marks that line the bottom half of your derriere. “Well, since you are sexualizing your own punishment I think it’s appropriate for you to learn a lesson in controlling your urges.”
“Whatever you think is best,” you reply.
“Turn around, and lie on the bed. Spread your legs.”
You flip over and spread your legs apart slightly. You’ve stepped out of your jeans, but your panties restrict you. I reach behind me, and open the drawer. I pull out a bottle of KY. I hand it to you, as I drop my pants and pull down my boxers. My cock sticks out conspicuously. You see it and you smile. I kneel on the bed and inch toward you. I hand you the bottle.
“I don’t know why you’re smiling. Naughty girls don’t get to orgasm after they’re spanked. And they definitely don’t get pleasured for getting wet during a punishment.”
“Is it going in my butt?” You ask.
I nod. “Lube it up for me,” I command in a soft voice as I point down at my enormous erection.
You give me a pouty face, but nonetheless pop open the bottle and squeeze the jelly into your right hand. You place it on my manhood, and stroke up and down until the shaft is soaked in lubricant. I close my eyes and take in the warmth of your touch.
“Sir, may I please remove my panties?”
“Absolutely not.” I reply.
I spread your but cheeks, and insert myself into them. You lean your head back and gasp. You pull the towel you find hanging from the head board to dry your hand. I begin to thrust. Your moans are intense, and drive me to the edge of climax after only a few. I can feel the tip of manhood begin to drip into your luscious booty. I thrust faster, and harder. Your brow furrows, and your jaw drops.
“Ohhhhh!! It hurts…”
“You should have thought of that before you got in your car drunk Isabel.”
“But…it hurts so good!!”
“You are impossible,” I reply. “But you’re still not gonna get to come tonight.” I say with ragged breath as I continue to thrust. I pull your panties off and grab onto your ankles. Your hands go for my ass, and you squeeze fiercely. I feel your insides, slippery, smooth and tight around my manhood. I watch your round butt cheeks taking my cock between them again, and again. I see your shaven pussy – hungry, and neglected. I lose all control. I scream loudly as I feel every drop of moisture in my body pour out into yours. My hips begin to shiver, and I become dizzy with pleasure. I collapse onto you.
As I lie there you cover me in kisses, and stroke my back. I struggle to catch my breath.
“Is my punishment over now?” You ask as your caress me.
“Yes it is,” I reply, kissing your forehead.
“You did a great job. Thank you for being so firm, and so through,” you say with a smile.
I give you one last kiss on your cheek. “You’re welcome love. I mean…what are friends for?”