SSC07: Interruptus (Adult) F/M
by Apple-Cheeked Boy
Interruptus
He appears, nude and a little elongated though not even partially erect.
"How's your bottom?" she asks solicitously. She'd pushed him pretty hard last night, though he didn't complain. No more than usual, at least. But a glance reveals his lowered head and shamefaced expression. "What's the matter?" Her hand pets his shoulder, coaxing his confession, this hesitant, needful man so unlike her day-to-day husband.
"Last night," he whispers tentatively, and a chill of remorse shivers her. She'd worried she'd gone too far, hadn't she?
"It's okay," she soothes. "Tell me."
Almost inaudibly he says, "I masturbated."
Realization dawns on her face. "Yes, you did. I made you," she reminds him. His head bobs quickly in acknowledgement. "So you could feel your punishment."
"I know," he breathes.
"You needed to feel your punishment," she tells him firmly. "We don't want these things happening again, do we?" His head shakes almost imperceptibly. Again he breathes.
She waits, torturing him, marveling at her own arousal.
"I'm not supposed to," he admits at last.
"Do you need another spanking?" she asks matter-of-factly, surprised but understanding. He likes, needs to be spanked for embarrassments. Taking him by the hand she turns toward the kitchen.
Uncharacteristically, he pulls back. "Wait!" he cries softly, and she wheels on him, feigning impatience.
"It was in front of you," he stammers.
"Yesssss," she intones portentously. "Yes it was. Into the kitchen with you, the spoon will take care of this. This is going to take awhile. Quite awhile, in fact." A nice long trip over her jean-clad lap, kitchen timer in front of them, set and re-set.
Still he resists. Curiouser and curiouser, she thinks.
"Not the spoon. Not now," he begs. Not the sort of thing he says without reason.
"Is there more?"
"It didn't work," he blurts, confusing her completely. "I didn't finish." He's right, she'd interrupted him mid-ejaculation. His head now completely bowed, she strokes and tousles his hair.
"No. You did very poorly, didn't you? Do you need a Sunday Night Spanking? I think you do." He nods just enough for her to feel his consent.
The Sunday Night Spanking, based on one she once received, was inexplicably arousing, a tremendous blistering with the hardest and deepest-bowled of their over-the-knee spoons. Almost unending, it was the perfect cleanser. The thought of giving one made her want to have sex, now; his asking nearly made her hips gyrate and thrust of their own volition.
"For now we'll deal with your jacking off. Into the bedroom, put four pillows on the bed and lay some towels over them." She would run the water very hot, soaking more towels to wet and softened his penitent bottom for the rubber strap. Then more towels, a good thick layer of homemade hot cream, towels, strap, towels again. A tearful little masturbator, she expects to have.
"Since I witnessed it, we'll have the cane. Two dozen, for starters," she adds. After all, they would have to last until bedtime.
(end)
Not exactly my kink, though there is something extremely arousing here. F/M is mine, definitely, but post-climax spanking has always been on my red list. Similarly, spanking for embarrassment is mine, but anything involving male masturbation is too embarrassing to mention, let alone play with.
I'd appreciate feedback, especially from women, on the philosophy of added and severe treatment for something he was required to do. Is it only okay because he asks for and needs it? Or is it too severe in any case? Or is it just part of the game?
