Just Desserts

#BDSM #discipline #spanking

The restaurant was noisy. A cacophony of sound, noisy diners enjoying sumptuous meals, harassed wait staff zipping between tables like bumblebees, solely focused on a single purpose, cutlery and plates clattering, and a the faint sound of generic jazz being piped into the room through a multitude of wall mounted speakers. It was a pleasant, environment. Not fancy by any stretch of the imagination, but adequate, and the best that I could book at short notice.

I figured a surprise date night was what you needed more than anything just now. My heart had bled a little listening to you pour out the stresses of your week over the phone, and I simply had to see you. I hate being away from you on a good week, but when I know the world is piling on you, trying to break your spirit, I can't ignore it. You look radiant, sitting opposite me. Your smile so bright and your eyes so full of joy, I know I’ve made the right decision. Moments like these are what we live for. Nothing is more important that this time, right here, right now. The phones are off, the meetings are cancelled. Nothing exists but you and I, here in this bubble, cut off from the world.

We talk about everything and nothing. I listen intently as you vent about work. You don’t need my advice, you have this shit under control, all you need is my ear, my support, my understanding that being the boss that you are is sometimes overwhelming, and you need to switch off. As we finish up our main course, you wipe your mouth elegantly with your napkin, and I can see the half smirk behind it. I raise one eyebrow inquisitively. You giggle and reach across the table to remove the tomato sauce that always seems to find it’s way into my beard. I chuckle bashfully, and then stop short as I feel an unexpected intruder sliding up my leg. My eyebrow arches once again as your foot slides up my thigh, and I growl, “careful kitten”.

“Or what?” Your eyes sparkle.

Your retort is unexpected, and I feel like my eyebrow will soon touch the ceiling. “You know what,” I respond. The tongue you poke out is the last straw. I rise from the dining chair immediately, and without hesitation, growl a single word at you; “follow!” And I walk out.

You follow me, a skip in your step, and a butterfly in your stomach. This is exactly what you wanted, but it still makes you nervous. I lead you to the bathroom, and lock the door behind us. “Stand in front of the mirror, and tell me what you see,” I command. You move in
Front of the mirror, and with a wicked grin, you answer, “I see a very cute kitten and a very handsome man standing behind her” Your charm is impossible to deny, but ineffective against me. “Well I see a cheeky little slut who needs to be taught a lesson”.

Your face turns bright red at this description, and you think I haven’t seen you bite your lip in anticipation of what’s coming. “Bend over!” An instruction you never ignore from me. You place your hands either side of the sink, and lean forwards, presenting your shapely ass to me. I lift the soft cotton sundress up revealing your bare bottom, I’m pleased at the lack of underwear.

I make you wait a few minutes, the nerves building up. Unbuckling my belt, the metallic sound of the buckle giving you goosebumps, before the ‘whoosh’ of the leather sliding out of my belt loops extracts a sharp intake of breath from you. I lay the belt across your lower back, letting it hang there, while my hand caresses the smooth skin of your perfect buttocks. Your ass wiggles into my hand happily before “SMACK”, I leave a perfect red handprint on your cheek. You whimper, as I lean into your ear and growl “you need this don’t you baby?”

“Mhmm” you reply.

“Why do you need it, use your words sweetheart” I insist as I land another swift spank onto your opposite cheek this time.

“Because I acted out at the dinner table”.

“That’s right. You always act our after a hard week don’t you? You just need some correction hmm?”

“Yes Sir”.

I pick up the belt, and fold it in half, stroking the warm leather against your flesh, between your thighs. Your pussy is already dripping, and the belt comes out with a glistening coating of your juices. “Count for me babygirl”.

CRACK; the belt falls against you; “One Sir,” you yelp, CRACK, “two, Sir”, CRACK, “three Sir”, Deep red marks form on your butt, so pretty, you’re being such a good girl.

“Thank you Sir,” you whine as the belt continues it’s assault on your behind. The catharsis of discipline clearing your mind of all the shit you’ve had to deal with so far this week. Each sting a physical reminder of how much I love and admire you. At 20 lashes I stop, drop the belt to the floor, and put my arms around you. You twist in my arms, burying your face into my chest, gently sobbing with relief as you relinquish all control to me. We have done this many times before, but each time I am still overwhelmed with the honour or receiving such deep trust from you. Having earned your submission, and having treasured it for so long. I am your rock, making you feel completely safe and protected. You are my strength, my empowerment.

We stand holding each other for what feels like an eternity, and yet an instant. You raise your head to look up at me, and I wipe a tear from your cheek as I lean down to kiss you. I lips meet, and our tongues dance, passion overtaking us. We fall to the floor, and you position your soaking wet pussy above my face. I grab your thighs roughly in my hands

And begin to devour your aching cunt. As I make you gasp and squeal with my tongue, you pull my erection out of my pants, and lean down, enveloping it with your soft, warm lips, sucking deeply and moaning around my cock as we hungrily feast on each other. My hips arch as I thrust into your mouth and you grind your needy mound into my beard, as we push each other over the edge of climax, your pussy gushing onto my face as my cum fills your mouth. We catch our breath and clean ourselves up before making our way back to our table hand in hand.

As we sit back down, the waitress comes over and asks if we want to see the dessert menu. We smirk across the table at each other. “2 chocolate mousses to go and the check please” I order. As the waitress nods and leaves, I feel a familiar foot once again sliding up my leg.

I roll my eyes and sigh with fake exasperation. “You never learn do you baby, when we get home, you’ll get your just desserts.”

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©2020 by Thomas Renard Writing.