Just Do It

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Sometimes he wished she’d just ask for it.

He watched her from the hotel bed, saw the subtle shifting of her weight from foot to foot as she stood there, her nose toward the corner and her hands worrying her shirt tail. She had been grouchy all evening; she knew it, too, which made things worse. She’d get snappy, realize how hateful she sounded, apologize quickly and become quiet, only to repeat the cycle a few minutes later. He knew she was tired, knew she was stressed, and he did his best to be understanding.

She didn’t need his sympathy, though, and he had really known that all along. It was still so new to them both, and he wanted to be sure before he acted. He was sure now. As soon as they’d walked through the door he had taken her bags and pulled her jeans and panties down, sending her with a smack to her current location. She hadn’t protested, which comforted him in some ways, reassuring him that this was what she needed. It annoyed him in others, though, and he berated himself for not trusting his first instincts.

He put away their bags, poured himself a glass of water, contemplated getting the hairbrush from her suitcase and deciding against it. Eventually he set his glass down and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Come here. Leave those,” he said, watching her step out of the clothes piled around her ankles and walk hesitantly to his side, her bottom lip out as she slipped her hand into his outstretched one. She resisted only a little when he tugged her forward, and she fell easily across his lap. He pulled her tee shirt up, resting his left hand on the small of her back while he ran his right hand over the cool skin of her bottom.

“You’ve been a very bad girlie today, haven’t you?” he scolded, patting the curve of her bare backside, feeling her flinch beneath him. She didn’t answer, only tensed her muscles and buried her face in the blankets. “You most certainly have, little girl. Very naughty. You’ve been practically begging for a spanking all day.” She made a sound of dissent, like he knew she would, and he brought his hand down hard, then went back to caressing her. “Don’t you argue with me. You have behaved badly, and now you are in for a red backside and an early bedtime. Is that clear?” A small whimper escaped her, not a yes, not a no, but enough for now.

He brought his hand down sharply, not just once this time, but over and over again, watching her skin become pink under his assault, not being gentle with her, not yet. She began to wiggle and he spanked her harder, and she squealed. When her legs began to kick he shifted his focus, pelting the tops of her thighs, listening to her uneven breathing. She threw a hand back, and he stopped spanking her. “Move it.”

“Please,” she asked, spreading her fingers across her hot skin, covering as much as she could.

“One.”

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease, I’ll be good, I’ll be so good,” she begged, her entire body tense.

“Two.”

With a wail she moved her hand and he brought his palm crashing down the second her fingers were out of the way, harder now, faster, not giving her a chance to think about anything but the pain and the noise and keeping her hands in front of her.

After what she felt was an eternity and what he knew to be only about a minute, he slowed, until he had stopped spanking her and was running his hand across her freshly punished bottom. He slid his hands under her and lifted, turning her to sit in his lap now, and she draped her right arm around him, her other hand finding his in her lap and twining their fingers. He lifted their hands together, used his thumb to wipe a tear from her cheek. “Better?” he asked, and she nodded and hiccuped, glancing up at him briefly.

He moved their hands behind her back, transferring hers from his red right hand to his still cool left, bringing his right hand to sit on her lap again. When he nudged her knees, she spread them obediently, though a blush rose from her collarbones to her cheeks. He slid his fingers up her thigh, whispering as he did so, “Are you going to be good for me now?” She shuddered as his fingers brushed against her, a “yes sir” falling from her lips.

Her body language was so different now, so malleable, so submissive and so his. He pressed his hot palm against her, pushing lightly, watching her bite her bottom lip at the tingles he now controlled. The tip of his middle finger dipped into her, and he felt a pool of warm liquid waiting. “It wasn’t all bad, was it?” he asked, and she glanced away, smiling.

“Look at me,” he told her as he pushed his fingers into her, and she complied, no more hesitations left. He felt her breathe in sharply at his touch, watched her mouth open slightly, and he pushed harder, farther in. She whimpered as he slipped out, a different sort of sound than her earlier cries, but she didn’t protest otherwise. He brought his hand to her face, ran his thumb around the curve of her lips. She opened her mouth, eager to have any part of him, sucking his fingers when he let her, moving to kiss his palm when his fingers were clean. She nipped at his thumb and he swatted her with his other hand, a light but effective spank on her swollen ass.

She jumped and her eyes widened and she kissed his hand again, the muscles of her stomach quivering and her breath shaky as she tried not to direct him. He smacked her again and she moaned, her legs falling open wider. She looked at him pleadingly, and he moved his hand back down to rest on her thigh. The heat from her skin pulsed through the fabric of his pants, and his erection pushed against the back of her legs. She shifted slightly, her fingers going to the button of his pants, her eyes looking to his for permission.

He moved his knees apart and she slid down to the floor, kneeling on the carpet, tugging his pants and underwear down and off. He pulled her shirt over her head, and as soon as she was free she ran her tongue up the length of him, sucking the pre-cum off his tip as greedily as she had sucked her own wetness from his fingertips moments ago. He watched as her head moved up and down, his eyes following the arch of her spine, down to the curve of her bottom. Her skin was red and lightly bruised, and though her thighs were pulled under her, he knew they matched, that they were covered with defined impressions of his hands, and that tomorrow she would be pink and purple and happy, much happier than she had been today.

She giggled lightly as she felt him begin to shudder, and her pleasure at his pleasure almost pushed him over the edge. He suddenly wanted to be inside her more than anything, and he reached for her waist, pulling her up urgently. She opened her legs obligingly and settled across his lap, this time sitting, facing him. Her ass met his thighs and he was all the way in her, cumming immediately, gripping her thighs to keep them both steady as she rocketed into her own orgasm moments later.

He kissed her as they finished, ran his hands from her shoulders to her knees, finding her hands and holding them in his as he leaned back on the bed, looking up at her, still straddling him and breathing heavily, breasts heaving in her lacy bra. He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them, then sat up again, rolling her onto her back and gently sliding out and away from her, still holding her hands for a moment, then letting go and patting her side, so she rolled over on her belly. He unsnapped her bra, slid it out from under her, leaned in to kiss her ear. She shivered and turned her head toward him, whispered “thank you,” as her eyes began to shut, and he supposed he didn’t mind having to guess what she needed after all…

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