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Fantasy: Crossed Arms

April 27, 2007

(Instruction: “For now, send me a punishment fantasy.”)

At the party, I know I’ve done something wrong, but I can’t tell what it is. But you’ve given me the look, the one that says “We can’t talk about this now, but you’re in for it later.”

As soon as we get back to the hotel room, you push me against the wall, getting my full attention instantly. You tell me take off my dress and panties, but leave my stockings and shoes on. Then you push me to my knees, and tell me to hold the position. My chin drops and I look at the floor. “Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”

You come behind me and slide leather cuffs around each wrist, then tie them together. Then you take a tie and bind the upper part of my arms as well, just above the elbows. My shoulders are pulled back, my breasts jut out, nipples standing at attention. It doesn’t hurt much – yet – but I know that I’ll soon start to feel the unusual pose in my muscles.

“Do you know what you did wrong, slut?” I shake my head no, then, knowing you will want to hear it from me, say “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

You stand in front of me, and slap my nipples, first one, then the other. “I bought you this beautiful dress, so I could show you off.” Slap. “My property, my slut.” Slap. “Yes sir,” I gasp, “thank you sir.”

“But every time I looked at you tonight (slap), you had your arms crossed over your chest.” Another slap.

My face flushes. I remember how many times you have told me, not to cross my arms, not to hide my body. Your body. That this is your body to display, and you want it on display, not hiding away. And I realize then why this particular bondage – there will be no crossed arms for me tonight.

You pull me up to my feet. You run your hands over my body, stopping to pinch my nipples, already sensitive from your slaps. Then you bend me over onto the bed. It’s one of those extra tall hotel beds, so my upper body is across the bed, but my legs are straight, and I spread them slightly for better balance. My ass is right there, and just as I realize what a target it makes, I feel your first hard smack on it. Then another. And another. More. I gasp, and grunt, reflexively pull away from the strikes as best I can in the position I’m holding, but then force myself back to receive again. You pause for a moment, and push your finger into my cunt. “Wet, just as I suspected,” you say. “I knew you would be. Now that’s a good little slut.”

You insert another finger, and then a third. One on my clit, and I’m writhing again, but this time from pleasure, mixed with the growing ache in my arms and shoulders from the way my arms are tied.

The next thing I know, your fingers are gone, but your cock appears in their place. You’ve undone your pants just enough to pull your cock out, and as you drive yourself into me, I can feel the rough denim of your jeans scraping against my bright red ass.

As you slam into me, hitting my cervix, making me yelp in pleasure and pain, you tell me to repeat “I will not cross my arms” as you fuck me. And I do, as best I can, until I can’t do anything but gasp and grunt and cry out, and then your semen fills my cunt.

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