Spankings can Be Fun – By Kelly

The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as I knelt in the hallway of my home, blindfolded, eagerly awaiting Master H’s arrival. My heart pounded with a mix of excitement and nervousness, the thrill of finally indulging in my long-held fantasy of a spanking session sending shivers down my spine.

Dressed in nothing but my panties, I trembled with anticipation, every nerve on edge as I awaited the sound of the doorbell. With bated breath, I called out my safeword, “Cake,” ensuring that only Master H would be granted entry into my private domain of desire.

As the door creaked open and footsteps approached, my pulse quickened. I prayed fervently that it was indeed Master H and not an unexpected visitor—my husband or teenage son. I had carefully orchestrated this encounter, choosing a time when my home would be empty to ensure absolute privacy for this intensely personal exploration of my deepest desires.

I felt his presence more than anything, until he stood directly in front of me.

“Are you ready for your punishment, Slag?” he asked, using the derogatory term I had specifically requested. It was a word that ignited something primal within me, a symbol of the power exchange we were about to engage in. His voice was commanding, sending a thrill through me as I eagerly nodded my consent.

Without a moment’s delay, Master H seized my small breasts in a firm grip and lifted me to my feet. The forcefulness of his touch was electrifying, igniting a fiery sensation within me as I willingly succumbed to his dominance.

With determination, he guided me into the lounge, practically dragging me along. Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, I found myself draped over his lap, anticipation pulsing through every fiber of my being.

“You will count each and every smack,” Master H’s voice echoed with authority, his words slicing through the tension-laden air. “If you lose count, or forget to count, at any time, I will start again at one. Do you understand, slag?”

I nodded frantically, my heart hammering in my chest.

Before I could fully comprehend his next move, a searing pain erupted across my left ass cheek as his hand made contact with blistering force. The shock of the impact reverberated through me, jolting me into a heightened state of awareness.

“I asked you a question, you fucking slag. Answer me,” his voice demanded, dripping with authority and command.

“Yes, Master,” I stammered, my voice quivering with fear and anticipation. The realization that this was just the beginning sent a shiver down my spine, knowing that the intensity of the session was about to escalate rapidly.

We had agreed to a range of 50 to 100 spanks on my ass, I left the specifics up to Master H’s discretion. Whether it was to be administered in total or per cheek, and the intensity of the spanking, were all left undefined.

As the first smack resounded across both buttocks, I couldn’t suppress a sharp intake of breath. Master H’s large hands easily covered both cheeks, amplifying the sting of each impact. “One, thank you, Master,” I gasped through clenched teeth, my voice tinged with a mix of pain and gratitude.

The second blow landed with a sharp intensity, on my right ass cheek, causing me to bite down on my lip to stifle a cry. “Two, thank you, Master,” I whimpered, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

As the third spank connected with my flesh of my left cheek, a wave of heat surged through me, mingling with the growing ache in my buttocks. “Three, thank you, Master,” I groaned, my body instinctively arching in response.

With each subsequent smack alternating sides, the sensations intensified, the burn in my skin amplifying with each impact. “Four, thank you, Master,” I moaned, my voice trembling with a mixture of pain and arousal.

You can read the rest of this session request, along with many others from Master H’s perspective, by exploring our new Patreon page.