The belt for Becky

Her bottom already crimson from the warm-up spanking over her master’s knees, Becky walked to the glass desk and put her hands on it as instructed, her legs slightly parted at her knees. Standing on the tip of her toes, she pushed her bottom up, a perfect target for what she knew was coming. The glass was cold to the touch under her palms, and she wished she could sit on it and cool her sore bottom.

She shivered; she hated the belt. She hated its burning touch, she hated how it made her cry out uncontrollably, she hated how it meant she had pushed him too far. He would not hold back, how ever few times he would strike her. She screwed her eyes shut as she heard her master’s belt buckle coming undone. He caressed her offered bottom with the cruel piece of leather. She softly moaned.

WHACK!

One lick for her attitude that day.

WHACK!

One for talking back.

WHACK!

One for unfinished chores.

WHACK!

One for snacking.

WHACK!

One for disappointing him.

WHACK!

One to make sure she learnt her lesson.

34

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4 thoughts on “The belt for Becky”

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