I love the photo of you bending over a rough wooden chest wearing just panties. . . Your saucy ass is sticking up in the most mouth-watering way and you are obviously dreaming about being spanked.
There’s a second photo of you lying flat on the chest, your arms behind you, each hand holding the other arm just below the elbow, half-covering the tattoo on the small of your back. Your lacy panties are begging to come down.
When I wrote you to talk about spankings, you asked what my “inner sadist” would do with you. Do you really want to know? My inner sadist pleases only himself . . .
I want to start with you just as you are in that photo and bind you firmly to that chest (wrists now tied behind your back, heavy leather strap holding your midsection down tight, pressing your breasts against the wood). You are helpless. I cuff your ankles, then tie them securely as well. I strip your panties down and admire the warm girl-flesh that is about to suffer for my pleasure. You turn your head to look at me through your bangs. You are afraid.
No, we are not going to start with a warmup.
I take my fraternity paddle and apply it to your bare ass, over and over, intending to hurt you a great deal, hearing your howls, seeing your futile struggling. Yesterday you told me that you would probably cry, and wanted to cry, when I spanked you long and hard. But now as the furious burning rushes through you, instead of crying you shriek loudly in pain. I paddle you harder; your body is contorted, your head thrown back as you break into full-throated screams.
Your suffering seems to continue for a nightmare lifetime, but unfortunately the pain cannot remain at this level indefinitely. Your howls become hoarse groans, and you slump passively on the chest, the lacy panties now limp between your knees.
I pause, and hear the gasps of your breathing. Even now you have not said one intelligible word; it has been too harsh and rapid for you to beg. “Doc, please,” you finally say, but nothing more. You close your eyes, exhausted.
I am not content.
I want a second taste of that sweet heaven.
I want more.
I begin again, using all the strength in my arm to apply the paddle from a lower angle so that it strikes the round meat of your ass full on, again and again. The pain is beyond belief and now tears and frantic screams burst from you. Your body is frozen in place, rigid under the shocking pain, your ass cheeks in a desperate but futile clench against the relentless assault of the paddle.
My mind captures the light sheen of sweat on the shamrocks tattooed on your neck, the angry red welts from the paddle, and the horrified suffering of your pretty face from one blow as I am already bringing the paddle forward to slap sharply into your ass with the next.
I wonder where you will go as I drive you beyond this agony.
Copyright (c) 2005 Doc Tsai