I meant to post this ages ago but it got lost in my notes. It’s well past my birthday now, but a good memory. So, back to Greece in July… (sigh)…
It was hot and sweaty so I walked around naked. TSH took advantage, pushing me down over the bed and tying my hands together with his belt. “I seem to have a twitchy hand,” he said. “And it is your birthday coming up.”
I looked at him, puzzled. He flipped me over, resting his hand on my left bum cheek. “We’ll practice, ready for your birthday,” he said. “One spank for each year of your age.”
I grimaced. I hate being reminded of how old I am. We got to about seventeen. “But I’m only twenty-three in my head, you know that,” I whinged.
“I’ve lost count now,” TSH said.
“Seventeen,” I replied.
“No, I’m sure I lost count. We’ll have to start again.” And then he added. “You need to count.”
“One. Two. Three…” I paced it. Not too slowly that I’d be accused of manipulation, not too quickly that it would be too painful. Each number punctuated by a sharp breath.
The last few spanks hurt. They all fell on the sensitive bit at the top of my thigh.
TSH turned me over and received a mutinous glare. “What?” he asked.
I couldn’t quite get the right words out so went with what came tumbling out of my mouth. “That’s just bloody weird. You spanked one side of me and not the other. It feels unbalanced. Just weird.”
He gave me a look. “Okay then, we’ll see.” He pulled my thighs apart and rested his hand at the top of my right leg. I visibly winced.
“Count,” he said.
I went up to thirty-nine… number, breathe… number, breathe… him striking the same sensitive part of my inner thigh. When he finished, I gave him another mutinous look.
“What?” he asked, again.
“For fuck’s sake. You know I hate being reminded of my age. You’re just being mean. It’s supposed to be funishment, not punishment!”
He gave me a look. “Okay then, we’ll see.” He pushed my thighs apart again and rested his hand right in the middle, fingers splayed across my cunt. I visibly winced again and shook my head.
“Twenty-three, did you say? Count.”
He wedged his knee between my legs, holding me open. One hand rested on my chest, pre-empting me wriggling.
“… twenty-one… fuck… breathe… twenty-two… breathe… fucking ow… twenty-three… fucking fuckety ow…”
“Good girl,” TSH said.
I shot him another mutinous look.
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