By His Command

"Bend forward, reach for your toes," she imagined him commanding.

She realized as she moved that this would present her ass to him from a fresh angle, begging again for his touch, his spanking.

Just thinking about how that might feel made Sandra blush. She had never been so alive, so in touch with her desires. She turned around again, wishing that Spencer was there to see the swollen lips of her pussy poking out between her thighs. She felt the wetness drenching the inside of her legs almost to her knees, knew that if he was there, he would see it too. She knew she would feel no embarrassment, only the same exhilaration she felt as she ran her fingers lightly over her clit, afraid that a solid fondle would make her whole body explode.

She wished she could see his face, see his reaction to her performance. Instead, catlike, she stretched her arms out in front of her, burying her face against her elbows, eyes closed, allowing herself to anticipate his hand striking her flesh, one blow and then another blow landing and another. Three strikes, in rapid succession, his hand slapping hard against her flesh. Each time he would pause, carefully aiming to strike touched a different area so that the warmth would spread over her ass in all directions. Sandra imagined it feeling better than any vanilla fucking she had ever experienced. She found herself relishing the thought of sting and wanting to experience the reality. For now though, she made due picturing his hand coming down again and again on her tender cheeks. Each time, just as she began to think it would be almost more than she could bear, she knew he would pause, allow the heat and the pain to build within make her throbbing flesh, and flow into her over heated cunt.

Before the heat could fade entirely, his hand would come down again and he would spank her even harder than before. First, the spank would be on her right cheek, then her left cheek and then high on both her cheeks. Spencer would then strike low on the backs of her thighs. She imagined that occasionally, his fingers would brush against her labia teasing her just enough to make her crave more. In reality, Sandra's fingers fucked wrist deep into her wet cunt, her thumb flicking her clit to maintain the intensity, but never quite cause her to explode.

She could feel her hard nipples almost cutting into the tender flesh of her thighs, and imagined the pain flowing from her ass to those points, flooding her loins, making her climax build urgently. She no longer tried to stifle her groans. With her ass on fire, if only in her brain, and her clit swollen and throbbing from her very real touching, she knew that she could not restrain her pleasure anymore.

Still, she denied herself that release, practising to come only upon his command. She felt herself hanging over the edge of a cliff, waiting, until finally, she imagined he spoke a single word.

"Now."

Her fingers focussed directly to her clit, rubbing and stroking it. The imagined pain of the spanking and the pleasure of her very real touch mered into a wave of energy which tipped her off the cliff. She heard the scream before she realized that it was her making the noise. The heat built up in her loins surged through her whole body as her cunt spasmed around her fingers, her breathing ragged, panting, shock after shock racing through her sweat drenched flesh.

Perhaps it was because the intensity was so great, much more than she had ever experienced before, but unlike most orgasms, it did not fade slowly. Instead, it ended just as definitely as hitting the canyon at the bottom of the cliff. She finally found the long sought after release of sleep, Sandra dreamed of Spencer lying beside her, comforting her as the pain faded, softly kissing her tears and nibbling on her neck. She dreamt of how safe she would feel in his arms as he held her close.

The last words she thought she heard him say were "I love. You are mine."

She slept with a grin, dreaming that she had pleased Him.

The next morning, Sandra was still sleeping in the chair when the doorbell rang. She pulled her robe together, thinking for a single instant that it might be Spencer, arriving in answer to her dreams. Instead, it was the florist's delivery person, with a box containing three elegant long steam roses.

The card inside read: "I enjoyed meeting you. Be careful of the thorns. I would not want you to bleed without me there to tend to your wounds. May I buy you dinner tonight? Spencer."

Just then, the phone rang...