I’ve never written anything like this before probably because I’ve never experienced anything like it before. As I get older, I feel myself drawn to new experiences that take me out of my comfort zone.
I have been in lockdown at home for over a month now and my sexual desires are raging and all over the place. Beyond the last month, I haven’t had a sexual partner in close to a year. I’m feeling a bit desperate lately and that may come across in my story below and my tone.
I take my vibrator into the shower with me pretty much every day. When I hold it to my clit as the hot water pelts my back, I think about my Sir bending me over, owning me, slapping my ass, and claiming me with his seed.
Yesterday, I had a NiteFlirt call from a gentleman who asked to be addressed as Sir if we were going to proceed.
“Yes. Of course, Sir,” I acquiesced. I’ve had a Sir before so I understand.
I love that he wanted my consent to proceed. He also wanted to confirm my age. Such a huge turn on!
Sir is an older gentleman from back east and his firm tone, northeastern accent, and choice of words project a deep level of dominance and masculinity. He doesn’t have to tell me to obey him but I know almost instantly that I’m going to want to.
Honesty is important to Sir. “Never lie to me,” he says —a man after my own heart.
After asking about different areas of my life, he’s come to the conclusion that I’ve been allowed to be a brat most of my adult life. Sir believes that in order to be a truly sophisticated and respectable lady, then I need a strong, firm hand to guide me.
He offers his guidance and let’s me know that any deviation or sass will be punished.
I laugh as I accept his offer.
He wants to know if I think it’s funny. I say, “No, but it is fun!” He assures me that we’ll come back to this point later.
I feel some tingling in my nipples.
I’m told to take down my pants, get on my knees and put my hands on my head.
It’s weird because we’re on the phone so he can’t see me, how will he know if I do it for real? Then I think back to our talk about honesty and I comply.
I’m alone in my room but for some reason I still feel embarrassed, kneeling on the floor in my underwear with my hands on my head.
“I’m on my knees,” I say.
He asks if I forgot to address him as Sir again. I laugh and repeat, “I’m on my knees now, SIR.” He notes that I have a thing for laughing at inappropriate times.
“Maybe,” I shrug it off.
Here are the rules he tells me: At home, I am never to wear pants, only underwear and a top are permitted. If a friend stops by, I am unable to cover up. If she wants to know why, I can either tell the truth or say nothing at all, but never lie.
I laugh, “Ok, Sir.”
When I go out, even if it’s just to the grocery store, I am to dress in sexy attire but not slutty and always wear heels.
“Do wedges count?” I giggle. He says yes.
And finally, I must speak like a lady —use proper terminology for body parts (except here on my blog) and no cursing.
“No cursing? Like, not even in a text?” I ask. He says No. I agree to this, but I’m thinking in this area there will be massive violations.
He then tells me to go and find a belt.
What the fuck?
Okay, I settle, let’s do this. I find one in my closet and describe it to him as a black leather belt with a silver metal buckle. He wants to know how thick it is and verifies that it is substantial enough for what he needs.
Sir directs me back over to my bed to pull my panties down and bend over.
I hesitate, but ultimately I do it and I feel humiliated again but I also notice that my panties are soaked as I pull them down.
He says he was only going to have me start with 20 lashes today but because of my laughter and sass I’ll need to add on ten more. He adds that the first 20 should go across my naked bottom while the final ten should land just below my ass on the back of my thighs.
I’m thinking to myself, are you really going to do this? Spank yourself??
I consider getting up and just striking the belt across the bed but I know it won’t sound the same. I settle on spanking myself but just not that hard.
I take a deep breath and begin.
After the first two pelts, I note how awkward it is but it doesn’t hurt really. I exhale and continue. As I swat myself, somewhere around the tenth strike my ass cheeks start to burn. Even hitting myself lighter doesn’t really help… and I know Sir is listening.
I finish the twenty and now my ass is on fire! WTF?
I then start on the ten to the backs of my thighs. Lightly. Very lightly. This area is even more sensitive.
I finished up and picked up the phone which had been lying on the bed next to my mouth.
“Done,” I say. Proud of my accomplishment.
“You’re forgetting to address me as Sir. And I didn’t hear you counting.”
“What?” I say indignantly. “I mean, what, Sir? I was counting in my head.”
He tells me that I’m always to count out loud and for my forgetfulness and sass I will need to add ten more swats to the back of my thighs.
“They’re already burning, Sir,” I wish to confirm in case he would reconsider. He does not.
I bend myself over the bed once again, completely naked from the waist down, and dole out ten more strikes of the belt to the backside of my thighs, counting out each one, “One… Two… Three…”
By the time I’m done, my voice is quivering. My ass and thighs are on fire, and my cunt is dripping with desire. I need to be fucked.
“Good girl,” Sir rewards me but he tells me that I’m never allowed to touch myself or orgasm without his approval.
I’m so turned on. How would he know if I just lightly rub my clit?
Honesty my brain whispers.
Sir commands me back to my knees, our call is almost over. He has work to do today.
He tells me to remember the rules and that next week when we talk, he will have a homework assignment for me. He instructs me never to be late or delinquent with his assignments.
My nipples are tingling, my bottom is burning, and my pussy is soaked from all of the excitement, humiliation, and anticipation.
I ask Sir if I can shower, touch myself, and cum after our call. He approves but adds that I can only orgasm every other day in the shower now. He thinks I need more discipline.
I think he might be right.
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Header pic by Pixabay.
Shower pic by me.