You loom over me, hand fisted in my hair as I kneel on the floor at your feet. “You regret being so cheeky, don’t you?”, as you slowly apply pressure to my scalp forcing my chin up so you can see my face. I’m grinning & have a mischievous glint in my eye as I ponder how we got to this point & where things will go next.
A polite evening of light & easy conversation, a bottle of malbec shared over a meal, sitting outside enjoying the slow twilight with an aperitif when you suggested, rather firmly, that I should do the dishes. “Oh no, no, no. I’m not that kind of sub”, I laugh (I fully intend to clean up, you cooked after all, but I wanted to see if some disobedient teasing would elicit a reaction) “Besides, it won’t take you long, you can’t have dirtied many dishes throwing ping meals in the micro” I flashed an exaggerated grin knowing fine rightly you had expended a bit more effort on our repast than that.
You are out of your chair in a flash & haul me from mine, trapping me against your body, one arm locked round my chest, the other hand pulling my head back against your shoulder. I gasp as you squeeze me against you & clench your teeth in the exposed flesh at the base of my neck. Instant reaction from my body, the pain, vulnerability & restriction igniting my desire.
You can feel me easing into you, not fighting what you’re doing. And then I’m suddenly free as you push away from me. A wave of frustration flashes through me as I turn to face you. You’re grinning now, “No more for you until the kitchen is cleaned up girl”.
I pout & suggest I could do with some more incentive. You seem to agree by pulling me close & forcing your fingers between my legs, the light fabric of my skirt no impediment to sensation. Your fingers roughly assault my clit through the fabric & I’m quickly on the edge as you hold my gaze in yours. You remind me that I must seek permission to cum as my breathing starts to hitch & you feel me press against your hand. Just as I start to voice the request you stop and step away from me once more.
I’m panting & flushed with the abruptness of my arousal & the sudden halt. You give me a questioning look that turns triumphant as I simply turn for the kitchen.
You sit to enjoy the last of your drink & your victory for a few moments, giving me time to complete my task.
When you join me in the kitchen I can see you biting down on laughter as you put on a stern face. I’ve rinsed & stacked the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. I’ve also lined up a variety of kitchen implements on the counter top – balloon whisk, wooden & silicon spatulas & spoons and a rolling pin. “I realise I was being cheeky earlier so I thought you might feel the need to punish me”, I quipped.
“As if using any of those on a little pain slut like you would be any kind of punishment! Pour me a drink then face the wall. Take this spatula with you.” you order, handing me the selected implement.
I happily pour your drink assuming I’m going to feel the spatula on my cheeks in just a few moments. I face the wall & cross my hands against my lower back presenting you with the thin wooden paddle on upturned palms.
You kick my legs further apart & instruct me to rise up on my tiptoes. I instinctively lean my chest into the wall to help me balance, I know it won’t be too long before my legs start to feel the strain of holding this pose. “Uh uh, body can’t touch the wall, that would be cheating”, you chuckle. I happily comply, I’m eager for my spanking. You take the spatula from my hands & I begin to doubt your intent. My skirt is in the way of a spanking. I had expected you to remove it or tuck it out of the way.
“Not very comfortable standing like that, is it?”, you ask. “No, no, it’s fine.” I lie. You make a sound part chuckle, part growl & I know for certain that this isn’t going to be a quick easy fun spanking.
You hold the spatula in front of my face. The blade flat against the wall. “Put your nose on it & hold it there. No other part of you can touch the wall” You wait until you are sure I have sufficient pressure to keep the tool in place. “10 minutes! If you drop it, if you move your arms or legs, if your chest touches the wall, the timer starts again from zero.”
I want to argue but I suspect that opening my mouth will destabilise the damn thing. So I close my eyes & prepare to meditate my way through this.
I can hear you moving around the room, drawers opening & closing. The occasional clink of your glass on the counter. The sound of your belt buckle & the leather sliding through the loops nearly makes me gasp. I hear a chair being pulled from the table & think I hear you settle into it. I assume you’ve moved it so you can watch me.
Despite my slowly growing discomfort, maybe because of it, I feel my arousal surging again. I have no concept of time, I’m simply trying to breathe steadily & taking mental inventory of my muscles & trying to ignore the heat & moisture I’m generating.
Your hands at the waistband of my skirt startle me, I hadn’t heard you approach. I manage, just barely, to keep my nose pressed against the spatula. I really don’t want the clock to be reset.
You quickly divest me of the garment and you comment on how lovely my ass looks in these panties, running your fingers teasingly over my cheeks. I brace myself, resisting the urge to move my hips to increase the contact.
Your hand slides between my legs, cupping me. “My, my, someone’s horny” you comment as your fingers explore and pinch through the thin soaked fabric. I growl low in my throat, suddenly this task just went from uncomfortable to almost unbearable.
“Do you want to know how much time you have left?” you ask. I grunt out an affirmative noise. “Well then, you’ll have to ask politely, like a good girl, won’t you?”
Nostrils flaring, legs muscles twitching, I just want to collapse against the wall & grind onto your hand. I try to assess whether I could form a coherent question & deliver it, without breaking position.
Your insistent hand continues to stoke my arousal, the other reaching between my body & the wall to tease my nipples through my clothes.
All I can think is “don’t move, don’t cum, don’t move, don’t cum” A mantra as I endure your timeless torment.
My right foot starts to cramp & a tremor travels through the muscles of that leg. My eyes are squeezed shut & bottom lip gripped between my teeth.
I hear a timer trill & fight the instinct to move immediately to a more comfortable position. That might be a false alarm literally. I’m not falling for that!
You realise what I’m thinking. “Not sure if that’s 10 minutes yet, huh?” A high pitched whine escapes me.
You pull my panties aside & plunge fingers into me. You alternate fucking me with your hand & teasing my clit. Your thrusting threatens to unbalance me & I cry out a single pleading “Please”
“Time’s up, well done, good girl, cum for me” you growl as you clutch me against you.
The tension explodes as I convulse on your hand, in your arms. I’m barely conscious as you help my shaking body to the floor. I take a few deep gasping breaths & arrange my limbs more gracefully as I start to come back to myself.
You loom over me, hand fisted in my hair as I kneel on the floor at your feet. “You regret being so cheeky, don’t you?”, as you slowly apply pressure to my scalp forcing my chin up so you can see my face.I’m grinning & have a mischievous glint in my eye as I ponder how we got to this point & where things will go next.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/idc9dm/brat_tales_disobedient_over_dishes_mf_stress
Riveting tale. And the first paragraph….ohhhh!