Red Shoes

My ass is on fire. I am being punished for buying shoes without permission. I know he loves spanking me, and the shoes were really an excuse, and I am glad to be able to give him pleasure in this way as much as in any other. But oh I wish he wouldn't do it so hard! He has been spanking me now for about five minutes, and I have already begun to cry. I quickly pretended tears when he first starting spanking me, convinced he would take pity on me once I started crying, but I swiftly realized that tears had no effect. The only thing that stops him is when his hand gets tired! At the moment he is taking a break, resting his poor dear hand, and I am trying to catch my breath.

I'm lying across his lap and the highest part of me, my ass cheeks, are flaming and it feels as though I could not possibly take any more. But I know from many previous spankings that we are probably less than half way through. Or maybe he will start with the strap now. His fingers are lightly trailing over my bum, and down the backs of my thighs, and he knows that he is making me shiver; making me even wetter than the spanking has already made me. Those silky fingers keep threatening to explore, and we both know that as soon as they start exploring I will start cumming, and from then on I will cum and cum all the time he spanks me. But he is teasing at the moment, his fingers not quite there. I have opened my thighs in silent invitation, but he has not responded by sliding his fingers in there, where I am wet and hot and musky.

As I wait for him to start again, I realize one of those lovely red shoes has fallen off and is lying on the floor below me. Typical of him that he makes me wear them for this spanking, to remind me why I am being punished. Also on the floor so close below me I can barely focus on it is the strap, which he intends to finish me off with. One stroke for every five dollars the shoes cost! His hand is moving, sliding in where I want it! Ooooh, his fingers are exploring, oh fuck they are indeed, suddenly and without warning he has slid a hand in between my thighs, in between my labia, IN ME! A climax crashes through me, and I howl in anguished pleasure.

I think of the open window, always left open so the neighbors can hear, part of my punishment is that the neighbors must hear. Christy, my best friend, lives next door, and I suspect she is out in her garden, poised, breathless, and probably masturbating as she listens to my anguish. Her husband never spanks her, she has never been spanked, and she is almost insanely jealous of this aspect of my life. Thinking of Christy, I try to choke off my moans, try to accept his attentions in silence, but it is impossible, his thumb is now actually on my clitoris! Pressing down on it! My thighs clamp tightly around his forearm, determined never to release him, never to allow him to withdraw his lovely glorious hand from inside me.

"Let go, Ann," he says, coolly, impossibly coolly.

How can he be so cool when he has gotten me so hot! I feel him twisting, reaching down with his left hand, and picking up the strap from the floor below my nose. I watch it disappear from view, and reluctantly open my thighs.

His fingers withdraw and he says, "I think Ann, that I require you to be standing, bent over, touching your toes, for the strap."

Has he noticed that one shoe has fallen off? Is that the reason for this change of plan? I struggle breathlessly to my feet, and stand, one bare foot on tiptoe, the other perched on the steeply sloping sole of the remaining shoe. Am I meant to kick this shoe off, or put back on the one that I lost when I was kicking and struggling just now? He kicks the missing shoe at me, and I quickly slip it on. He reminds me yet again that the shoes are the cause of my punishment. As I bend to touch my toes, I look down at them and I don't care that I am being punished; they are the nicest shoes in my whole wardrobe. It is almost impossible to touch my toes in these high heels, but I do my best, and I can imagine what the position is doing to my legs, to my bum! I struggle to retain my balance in this tightly stretched position. The strap kisses my tender, hot bum, and lifts away. I am about to pay for these shoes, and I know that the neighbors will hear me howling, and tomorrow Christy will quiz me about it, wanting to know everything that happened.

Right at this moment, awaiting the pain, I would gladly swap places with her, let her take my place, bent over, bum thrust out, legs straining. But I know that in a few minutes he will drop the strap and push me down onto the carpet, and moments later I will be experiencing his passion, as his rampant, hard, leaking cock thrusts into me, hammering my blazing bum into the carpet as he takes his pleasure in me and I take my pleasure from him. Does he know that Christy is listening, does he get off on her innocent face when she visits, takes coffee with me, looks at him all admiring because he dares to chastise his woman? I don't care, because right now it is my ass that has his undivided attention. And very soon it will be me getting fucked by him. I look down at my lovely red shoes and tell myself not to cry out, to take my punishment in dignified silence. The strap falls. I howl, and start to sob like a silly schoolgirl. Tears flood my eyes; I can no longer see my lovely red shoes as the sweet pain rushes through me.