“Stand up. Take off your jeans and knickers and get back down over my knee.”
There’s a microsecond pause whilst I process, my fingers already moving of their own accord to my zip.
There’s a nervous flip in my stomach, my cunt clenching in anticipation. Doing what I’m told just feels right.
I don’t have to worry. I don’t have to think. I just have to do.
I know I’ll get more instructions to follow. Whether I actually want them or not is a different matter, but we both know that I’ll obey. We both know I want to obey. No, need to.
It pleases him when I do. And I like that. It takes the pressure off when I do. And I like that too.
“I bet you’re wet already. Aren’t you, little slut?”
I close my eyes, anticipating what he’s going to do next. Nervous. Humiliation vaguely wafting over me as I realise he knows me better than I think. That my body betrays me at every turn.
“Let’s find out. Open your legs.”
I do, squeezing my eyes shut. Want not want. Need.
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