Bare Bottom Spankings from My Master
Bare bottom spankings from my master—it’s what I need when I’ve been a very bad girl. There’s something so deliciously naughty about baring my bottom, exposing the most intimate parts of me for his disciplinary pleasure. The mere thought of it sets my skin alight with a mix of fear and arousal, each anticipatory moment heightening my senses.
I love the way the flogger caresses my ass cheeks in pain. With each stroke, a stinging heat spreads across my skin, blooming like a dark, forbidden flower. My master knows just how to spank me, to make me cry out in a blend of agony and ecstasy. He’s an artist, and my body is his canvas, every slap a brushstroke in the masterpiece of our shared desire.
As the spanking continues, my ass grows hot and tender, a testament to his dominance and my submission. My cries grow louder, more desperate, and I can feel my pussy getting all nice and wet. The pain transforms, melding with the pleasure that’s building within me. Each smack sends a jolt through my body, igniting a fire that only he can stoke.
The sensation is exquisite, a symphony of pain and pleasure that resonates deep within my core. I’m utterly drenched, my wetness a clear indication of my need for his discipline, my body’s way of pleading for more of his exquisite punishment.
My master’s touch is firm yet tender as he pauses to caress the heated skin of my backside. His fingers trace the welts he’s raised, a silent promise of the intensity to come. I moan, pressing my ass back towards him, wordlessly begging for more.
He obliges, the flogger returning with renewed vigor. I’m sobbing now, tears streaming down my face as my pussy weeps with desire. The pain is intense, but it’s nothing compared to the overwhelming need for release that’s coiling in my belly.
I’m his to command, his to punish, and every part of me sings with the knowledge. The spanking is relentless, and I surrender to it, letting go of all control. My orgasm is building, a force as inevitable as the tide, and I know it’s going to crash over me with the same intensity as the waves against the shore.
Finally, when I’m sure I can’t take any more, he stops. My ass is on fire, the pain a constant reminder of my master’s power over me. But it’s the silence that follows that’s truly deafening, the absence of the flogger’s bite leaving me yearning for his touch.
He doesn’t leave me wanting for long. His fingers find my soaked pussy, teasing my entrance before plunging deep inside me. I cry out, the sudden fullness overwhelming after the sweet agony of the spanking. He fucks me with his hand, each thrust sending me higher and higher until I’m teetering on the edge of oblivion.
“Cum for me,” he commands, his voice a low growl in my ear. And I do, my body convulsing as the most intense orgasm of my life rips through me. I’m screaming his name, my vision whiting out as wave after wave of pleasure washes over me.
In the aftermath, I’m a quivering mess, my body marked by his hand. I’ve never felt more alive, more owned, than I do in this moment. My master has disciplined me, yes, but he’s also shown me the depths of pleasure that can be found in pain.
And as I lay here, spent and sated, I can’t help but whisper a silent thank you to the man who has mastered not just my body, but my heart and soul as well. For a bare bottom spanking from my master isn’t just a punishment—it’s a celebration of our connection, a dance of dominance and submission that leaves me longing for our next encounter.