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I came home from a long day to find him in the kitchen with nothing on but high heels and a flower patterned apron. At the sink with his back to me, wide shoulders and tapering waist call down to his high, smooth ass. He does not look feminine at all. He looks like a man, in fact, he’s an exquisite specimen. When I told him to put it on over the phone I was expecting him to look quite silly, and he does. His forearms covered in tattoos from when he was wild and younger, his biceps are thick from pull-ups and years of physical work. I stare at this vision for a moment before touching his ass lightly and feeling his breast with my other hand. I search for the nipple through his apron and give it a light squeeze. He weakens and turns around startled, the music was too loud so he couldn’t hear me come in. I kiss him hard, deeply.
I walk over to the couch and he knows that he must follow- head down- and takes my shoes off. Kneeling, he unlaces my ankle high boots as quickly as he can, and places them carefully to the side. He knows to start massaging my feet, keeping his eyes on the floor, “Is the pressure good for you, mum?” he says in a husky brogue. I say yes, and straighten my leg out high so he has to reach up, and he knows that I want the rest of my leg massaged from the foot up. He has to stand to do it and I see his ass again. I grab it, and he focuses more intently on my foot, trying not to think about what I might be thinking about.
“Go check on dinner”, I say, and he turns again, not looking at me, wobbling uneasily back into the kitchen. I hear the oven open, and some stirring, then the pouring of a glass. He knows exactly how I like my tea- a splash of coconut milk and one teaspoon of raw honey. He kneels down to give it to me, and I kiss him on the forehead, loosening my tie and taking a sip. I’m wearing my black suit and sit with my legs wide apart.
He kneels between my legs, and I stroke his hair and face, then grab the back of his hair and pull his head back so he has to look up. He takes a second to realize he can look at me, and I can see in his eyes a silent plea to fuck him. “Get on my lap,” I say, patting it and suppressing a smile. He settles with his head to my left, his legs set straight to the right. I can feel him getting hard through my trousers, and my nipples graze against my bra in response. I grab his ass, caress it, and bite it gently. His body jerks and re-positions. Rubbing my hand back and forth across his cheeks, I can feel him anticipating how cruel I want to be. I give him ten medium-hard slaps, alternating each cheek. His body stiffens. I grab his hair with my left hand– shhhh, it’s okay darling. I let him kiss my hand. Not letting him finish, I find his nipple and caress it lightly, increasing the pressure gradually. My right hand is raring to go and I writhe underneath his hardening cock. My hand cupped and firm, I slap it staccato, many times in succession to warm him up and watch it turn the lightest pink. It jiggles with each spank, covered with anticipatory goosebumps. Appreciating my view, I run my claws on the backs of his legs from the backs of his knees upward. I tickle his balls and feel the warm little usually neglected space between them and the bottom of his ass. I tickle him just a bit, the part on his ass that I found a few nights before and he shudders. This is enough lingering, I think, and spank again, this time harder. My hand firm, his cock perhaps firmer.
“Go get me paper and a pen”, I say and he gets up quickly if a bit off balance. I write myself a code of Left, Rights on the sheet of paper, and tell him he’s to repeat back to me the pattern that he feels on his ass. He’s a bit confused, but game. I follow the sequence– left, left, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, right, right, left, right, left. Knowing that a random sequence of more than ten is almost impossible to remember, I say, “Now repeat it back to me!” His response is pathetic and wrong, just as I expected. That means harder spanking! I hold him close and lay into him with the force that I feel is right. Not too hard, not yet. He stays very still. I can tell his face is contorting, but I keep going. Alternating spanks, my hand starts to tingle in that familiar way, and I smile. He’s rock hard at this point, and we’re almost dry-humping only in the wrong direction. He gets on his hands and knees and I take off my shirt and pants, revealing my black lace undergarments, leaving my tie on. I could tell he snuck a peek.
He hops back up, and I say, “Keep your hands and feet on the floor, do you understand? No moving.”
“Yes, loud and clear, mum.”
“Now. We’re going to try this again.”
“Yes, please, mum.”
I write another pattern on the piece of paper, using his back. Then, swiftly, making it more difficult: Right, left, right, left, right, right, right, left, left, right, right, left, left, left, right. Again, his memory fails, clearly it is time for him to fetch the hairbrush, but not before I give him more swift spanks on the harder side. I want to watch him walk away with a bright red ass. Fuck that pink shit. My hand is also getting dry and very red, but I could care less. I can feel his cock against my thighs, so hard and wet. I lay into him, spanking away, stopping briefly I tell him to breathe. I can feel the heat coming off his bum, and let my fingers linger on his pain. I rub his ass, (how could I help but do that?) and he relaxes, thinking the worst is over, no doubt. Ha, ha! Not a chance. I run my fingers lightly on his taint again, then watch them disappear into his crack. He lifts his ass up, thinking now he’s going to get a little penetration… “Go get the hairbrush, sweetie,” I say, and pat his leg so he gets up and wobbles back to the bathroom to fetch my personal brush. He comes back and presents it to me on his knees, head down again. On my lap again. Same position. He is looking quite serious now. I plant a kiss on his ass, and tap it with the brush lightly. It makes a hollow sound, and smiling I increase the force gradually. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Over and over. Flicking my wrist so they’re quick yet sting like the dickens.
“Get up and put your hands on the wall, ” I say, “Spread your legs.” He does so. I get behind him like I’m going to fuck his ass– he wants it so badly– but not yet. God, I’m so turned on by his body, I want a fuller look, so untie the ribbon of his apron, and make him stay in the high heels as they push his ass out, emphasizing his desperate need to be penetrated. Rubbing his arms, then his back, I scratch down, and he breathes in, covered in a slight layer of delicious sweat. I feel his ass and press my body against his back, rocking him back and forth as though we’re fucking, he responds and I reach around to feel how hard he is. He is dripping like mad, so I stroke him with his pre-cum a bit to tease him, then run my hand up his stomach to his nipples. They are so sensitive, and my fingers are still wet. Increasing the pressure, I dig my nails into them just a bit. His legs buckle. I know he is loving/hating it, and squeeze harder. “Aaah!” I push his head so that it’s touching the wall and take a step back, remembering the brush. “Position, darling!” I stand slightly to the side of him and give him a good natured thwack. He breathes in, and his ass muscles tighten, “Thank you, mum.” “Relax,” I say, running my hand down his back. Getting excited, I thwack him again and again and again. “Maybe this will improve your memory!” I hit him, making him stick his ass out and take it, thwacking away with short flicks of my wrist, interspersed with ones which I wind up for, torquing my body to get my weight behind it. His back arches, but I have to give him more, “Yes, Miss, please can I take more for you?” I make him count them down from ten. His ass is partially hard from all of the impact, I rub it, feeling the fruits of my labor. He trembles in the high heels, and under my hand.
To be continued…
