Sometimes when I am spanking pet, she asks me to stop. Asks me not to spank her in the same spot, to not spank so hard, to spank me so many times. Asks me when I am going go be done. She trembles when I take off my belt or reach for the wooden paddle. “I don’t want it,” she whimpers. “I don’t want it. Please.”
“Please what?” I ask her quietly, as my hand strokes her ass before delivering another solid smack.
“Please…I don’t know…” she says.
With one hand I reach under her and stroke along her pussy, dipping two fingers deep inside of her. They slide in easily. Quite easily. Because her pussy..the pussy that I own and control…is drenched.
She tells me to stop. She tells me no more.
But the juices running out of her pussy, onto my fingers and coating her thigh, tell a different story.
They tell the truth.
Withdrawing my shiny and slick fingers from her cunt, I raise my hand back to deliver another solid spank.
“Please…” she says.