Brace Yourself

Sunday Morning Over Coffee

“I want you to tie me up,” she said, “And spank me.”

The Sunday paper shuddered in his hands. He had dreamed of this moment.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I want this. I want you to.”

“We can take it easy, you know, work up to it.”

“No. I want you to dominate me. I want to be your whore. I want you to pull my hair when you fuck me, take me hard and deep. I want you to spank my ass until I cry out and come onto your fingers…I want you to punish me.”

“…You do?”

“Oh, god, yes. I do.”

The paper fell to the floor. He walked to her, towering over her slender body.

“Oh, I will punish you. You can be sure of that. But first. First. Kneel down in front of me. Now.” His voice was low and strong. Commanding. She grew instantly wet.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes…sir.”

“That’s better…whore.”

She trembled with delight and anticipation of what was to come.