Well, perhaps love is too strong a word. I like the kid. (kid? He's 25 actually, just a bit immature...)He's strong, well groomed, cute, and a serious pain puppy, but he's more an adored pet than anyone I could consider a real partner.
But he is fun! Just the kind of thing a Lady needs to cheer up her gloomy afternoon.
He came by just before dinnertime, a stolen half hour crammed in between his work, his school and the toddler that rules his life.
I put him over my knee for a bare bottom hand spanking. Then I used my new tiger-striped hairbrush. The brush popped against his already warm bottom cheeks, turning them a deep crimson.
But he's an odd little duck, that one is. The harder I spanked the harder he got. I could feel a tell tale dripping on my thigh.
Well now what was I going to do about that? With him still on my lap I slipped a rubber glove on my hand and coated the fingers with a special lube that had been spiced with a few drops of hot sauce.
He moaned as the first finger slid in. I left him waiting, gasping as the lube started to burn. Then I added another finger. And then a third. I worked the fingers of my right hand slowly in and out of his rectum while I leaned forward to spank him with a heavy bloodwood spatula in my left hand. He kicked, bucked, and panted. Each twist and wriggle caused deeper burning, making him moan loudly.
The dripping didn't stop.
I took the glove of and stood him up. With him watching me carefully I slowly pulled my thick, wide work belt off my waist. He whimpered in the back of his throat. He hates that belt.
I doubled the belt over and laid it on the edge of the bed. He lay down on the bed with a pillow under his hips, his eyes a mere few inches from that thick strip of leather. I placed a pillow under his hips, so that his erection was trapped between the pillow and the weight of his body.
"The rules are simple," I told him. "If you cum on my pillow you get the belt, do you understand?"
He nodded and whimpered again.
Then I began to spank him again with the spatula. He tried his best not to writhe or wriggle but I spanked him just hard enough that he had to. The more he thrashed the more he rubbed against the pillow. The more he rubbed against the pillow the closer he got to having an accident that would earn him a vicious strapping.
The boy is clever. He soon realized that if he inched his hips up just a bit he could wriggle his hips from side to side without brushing against the pillow.
Unfortunately, the position required him to open his legs, which left the insides of his thighs and a few other places vulnerable to the sting of the spatula. I targeted the soft flesh mercilessly. He quickly dropped back onto the pillow.
Soon he began to cry with soft, quiet sobs. His bottom was very, very very red and hot enough to melt ice. But I still didn't stop just yet.
No, I kept right on going until he just couldn't hold on any more...