Taking a seat on the couch, he said, “Over my knees.”
Her eyes widened a bit. “But, Sir, your hip. Wouldn’t it—”
“Thank you for your concern, pet, but my hip is fine. Now, unless you want me to add to your punishment, I suggest you do as you’re told.”
Biting her lip, she nodded and then complied. Cordell shifted his legs and winced. Maybe he should’ve put her on the spanking bench but seeing her across his lap quickly made the pain in his hip less intense. He wished he could say the same about the pain in his groin.
He adjusted her body until her feet were off the floor and her fingertips barely touched it. Lifting her skirt, he was surprised to see she’d gone without underwear. The last time she’d worn this outfit, she’d put on panties too, portraying the bratty schoolgirl in need of a spanking—a fun one. Today, in her rush, she’d either decided it was one less thing to deal with or had foregone them because she’d been running late and was already facing a punishment. His heart had nearly leaped into his throat and strangled him when he’d seen the bloodstain on her pure-white sock. Thankfully, the worst of the lacerations hadn’t needed stitches. As of this minute, razors were out for his pretty, little sub. He’d see to it that she got her legs waxed from now on. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure why she didn’t do that already, since she got her pussy waxed on a regular basis. Something he was pleased with. Pubic hair on a woman didn’t bother him, but bare, pink flesh turned him on even more. He also knew it increased a woman’s sensitivity and pleasure during play, so it was a win/win for both of them.
Rubbing his hand briskly over her naked ass, he brought the blood to the surface, reducing the risk of bruising her with his strikes. “Tell me, again, why you’re being punished, pet?”
“Because I didn’t set my alarm and cut my leg because I was rushing to be on time. I really am sorry, Sir.”
“I know you are, but that won’t get you out of a spanking. That’ll be twenty swats. Count them out and ask me for the next one.”
“Y-yes, Sir.”
He liked the hesitation he heard in her voice when she acknowledged him that last time. It hadn’t sounded fearful, like it had many times before, but, instead, it’d been more anticipatory. It was possible the little sub was a bit of a pain slut, but it was difficult to tell until she finally stopped associating any pain with punishment. He’d taken things slowly these last seven months, gauging her reaction to each of their interactions, whether they were playing or not. Once more, Cordell wished he’d taken Bruce Whitlow out to the desert and buried the sorry bastard out there with just his cock sticking out from the dirt for the buzzards to pick at.
“What’re your safewords?”
“Red for stop, yellow to slow down, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
Lifting his hand, he brought it down hard on her left ass cheek with a resounding slap, leaving a red print on her pale skin.
“Eep! One—one, Sir. M-may I please have another?”
Of course, he obliged. This time his hand landed on her right buttock.
Tiffany let out a soft hiss. “T-two, Sir. May I please have another?”
The next one was aimed at her left sit spot, where her thigh and cheek met. He continued to pepper her with strikes, moving randomly to a different spot on her upper legs and ass, while she counted and requested more. At number six, her voice began quivering, and she squirmed on his lap. He readjusted her. “Stay still, pet.”
“Ye-yes, S-Sir.”
By the ninth spank, she was sobbing. By the fourteenth, she could barely get the words out of her mouth as her body shook uncontrollably.
“What color are you, pet?”
“Ye-yell-ow, S-Sir,” she managed to squeak out.
Cordell stopped and gave her a few moments to collect herself. He rubbed her back and lower legs, knowing if he touched her ass and thighs it would cause her more pain than she was already experiencing. Punishments like this were not his favorite part of BDSM, but they were necessary for many subs. It was how they processed what they’d done wrong and learned to control any behavior that jeopardized their health or wellbeing. Once the ordeal was over, he would wipe the slate clean, move them forward, and not dwell on what had caused the need for the punishment in the first place. “Easy, girl. You’re almost done. Six more to go. Let me know when you’re green.”
She hesitated a few seconds before whispering, “I-I’m green, S-Sir.”
“I’ll make them fast. You don’t need to count.”
“Th-thank you, Sir.”
Without pausing, Cordell finished dispensing the punishment. After the last strike, he lifted her up in his arms, turned around, and laid her face down on the couch. As she bawled loudly into her hands, he stroked her hair. “Easy, pet. It’s all over. Stay there while I get some ointment.”
Her only response was a few nods of her head. God, he hated seeing her like that, however, she’d needed it as much as he had. But it was over now, and they could move on. After he soothed her burning ass and thighs with Arnica ointment, and she regained her composure, he’d reward her for taking the punishment like a trooper.
Keeping an eye on her, he stepped over to a nearby cabinet and retrieved a tube of the topical medicine. The OTC ointment was commonly used by those in the BDSM lifestyle to ease muscular pain and stiffness, as well as to reduce swelling and bruising due to impact play. Returning to Tiffany’s side, he perched on the edge of the couch next to her waist and began to apply the ointment. She gasped at the first touch, then took in a deep, shuddering breath and held it for a moment.
Cordell gently massaged the Arnica into every inch of flesh he’d reddened during the spanking. By tomorrow, Tiffany would be able to sit somewhat comfortably, even though her ass would still be sore enough to remind her of what she’d done wrong. “Better, pet?”
“Y-yes, Sir.” Her voice was stronger than it had been a few minutes ago.
“Good. Are you green for a scene?”
“I-I think so. What did you have in mind, Sir?”
He chuckled at the wariness in her voice. “Nothing that has to do with your ass or thighs, pet. I promise you’ll be in subspace soon, forgetting all about your punishment. Sound good?”
Turning her head, she gave him a watery smile. “That sounds very good, Sir. Thank you.”
Her ass was on fire. And, truth be told, her pussy was wet and wanting. It had been ever since Sir had asked if she wanted to play after applying the ointment to her reddened skin. God, what was it about this man? She could never get aroused after one of Bruce’s punishments, although, he’d never been tender afterward like Sir always was. Also, once she’d moved in with Bruce, he’d rarely oversaw her aftercare unless they were in the club where the staff tried to keep a close eye on all play. Whenever they’d played at home, she’d always needed to take care of herself after scenes. Whether she hit subspace or not—most of the time it was the latter—it was often hard to self-administer aftercare depending on the type of play that’d been involved. Before she’d left Bruce, it’d been close to a year since she’d gotten a euphoric high from one of their scenes. Thankfully, Sir had managed to override her belief that she couldn’t get into subspace anymore. Cordell Roberts was a master at getting a woman’s body to sing—pun intended.