CrazyAngel

Clare typed her address into Mark's sat-nav as he drove, his smooth Mercedes a quiet oasis for her thoughts.His tough tone and powerful strokes had driven her to a stream of incredible orgasms bent over his desk. She'd disrespected her well-earned formal punishment. Drenched in the afterglow, she'd welcomed his undeserved kindness. Eager to ride the storm of emotions he'd triggered in her, she'd invited him home for dinner. Every inch of her craved his strictness, his kindness, and his hard body.Guiding his smooth Mercedes S-Class through the city streets, Mark kept his counsel. She appeared content. He'd caned her bare bottom. She didn't seem upset with him and wanted to cook him dinner.Presented with her embarrassing problem, his strict punishment had kept her failure private. He wouldn't lie. Watching her strip and accept her severe caning had delivered selfish pleasure, but also a fair solution. She deserved to hurt for days.Discovering her interest had plunged shocking pleasure through his heart. His stream of regular girlfriends shared a desire for pleasurable discipline, but none had ever bent like Clare. Exploding her pleasure over his desk, she'd burst love from his heart. Her unavoidable admission he'd delivered pleasurable pain had shocked him less than her dinner invitation. He'd never crossed the line between them, despite dreaming of it. But tonight, they'd crossed it together, and he wasn't sorry.She directed him to an available parking space on a nearby street. Parking near her second-floor walk-up was tricky. Grabbing her laptop from his trunk, she said, ?Please bring your gym bag.?He didn't ask why in public. Grabbing Ataşehir Escort his gym bag along with his computer, he walked beside her.Her cream building housed six apartments. They walked up one level. She unlocked the white door, dumped her bag, and kicked off her heels. Following her lead, he removed his shoes and entered her spacious lounge. ?This is nice. I love the high ceiling.??Thank you,? she said, continuing through to her kitchen.He wandered her lounge, taking in the baby-blue carpet, cream furniture, personal trinkets, and photos. Her home revealed her unique mix of delicate and dynamic, which he'd always admired.Placing wine glasses on the light oak coffee table, she poured the Montrachet. In her fridge for a year, she couldn't swear she'd saved it for him, but she'd never offered it to her girlfriends.She settled on her comfortable couch and he picked the armchair beside her, not encroaching on her space, but still near. Beaming with delight, she chatted about her home. During a natural pause, she placed her wineglass on the table. In the car, she'd decided she must clear her conscience. ?I was wrong to take pleasure during my punishment earlier. I couldn't help it, but I'm embarrassed.?On tricky ground, he responded as he would play with a girlfriend. Hardening his tone, he said, ?You're lucky I didn't add six extra strokes for gross disobedience.??Why didn't you??Softening his tone, he said, ?It was an extraordinary personal moment. You needed holding.?She had. It was true. She'd needed holding by him. But she hadn't deserved his incredible kindness.He looked her dead in the Ataşehir Escort Bayan eye. She'd crossed their line, inviting him to dinner. It was his duty to show respect and follow-through. ?Clare, I have feelings for you. Ignored for a year, they haven't diminished.?Her forbidden heart exploded, and a smile spread across her face. He wanted her. No wonder he'd been hard on her. ?I have feelings too,? she said.He placed his glass on the table, leaned forward, and slipped her face between his hands. His strong fingers on her soft skin sent shivers down her spine. She discarded her glass and let him pull her towards him. He grazed her lips with his, the hard momentary touch an intense promise. They passed again and stayed. He locked her lips and kissed her. Raging fire ripped from her lips, tore down her body, and met her sore backside. She pulled away. ?I don't deserve you.?He stared at her. ?You do.?Intense personal feelings didn't excuse her disrespectful orgasms. Getting caned in the office for her misbehavior shouldn't have delivered stunning pleasure, only pain, remorse, and graceful suffering.?Not until I've taken my full punishment. I still deserve those six extra strokes. I failed to respect my discipline. You shouldn't forgive my gross disobedience.??They were exceptional circumstances. We had powerful feelings which remained undeclared.??It's no excuse. I showed extreme disrespect during my formal punishment. I'm sore and six cane strokes doesn't sound good, but I deserve them.?He cursed his kindness. He should have thrashed her for disrespect, resolving the orgasm situation. Crossing Escort Ataşehir the room, he removed his cane from his gym bag. Returning, he stood beside the couch. ?Stand up, Clare.?She smiled at him, ?Thank you.? He'd understood her. He'd accepted her choice. Self-respect wouldn't permit her to escape severe justice for her inappropriate pleasure.?This is going to hurt.??It must.?He pointed to the space next to her couch as respect exploded in his heart.Planting her feet on her baby-blue carpet, she faced her front window. Drawing her curtains, he walked around her. She enjoyed being held under his firm gaze, the cane in his hands confirming his authority. ?Examining your misbehavior is a suitable occupation for your brain during a caning.?She accepted her scolding. His tough handling of her had obliterated her thoughts. It was happening again. Desperate to avoid a repeat, she focused on her earlier orgasm, taking a detached viewpoint. Her extreme disobedience demanded the cane. Six severe strokes.?I'm going to keep your mind on your suffering.?Oh, thank god. She needed his ruthless dominance to keep her in check. Her sex was already at odds with her, lapping up his stern words and pulsing liquid pleasure.?Lift your dress.?She obeyed. Pulling the jersey up to her waist, she went no further.?Bend over and touch your toes.?Rejoicing in his toughness, her fingertips touched her bare toes, her white lace panties rising. The rattan rested against her bare bottom. Dampness spread into her tight lace panties. God, it was happening again. With ruthless zeal, she scolded herself.?Thank me out loud after every stroke.?The cane remained resting against her skin.?I'm expecting an answer, Clare.??Yes, sir.??If you don't thank me, or are too slow, I'll repeat your stroke, and add an extra.??Yes, sir.?The cane crack echoed around her large lounge. Incandescent heat shot across her bottom. Panting through her pain, she said, ?Thank you, sir.?