This story is part of a series.
You can read part 1 here.
Before you read this story, I must advise you that it will not contain any unique back-story, no elaborate setting, no build-up to the intense, arousing discipline of our protagonist, Alana. This story is purely about the pain, suffering, arousal and lust she is subjected to under her boss’ hand. It’s about spanking and caressing, about discipline and pleasure, about wanting more and begging for the end.
The story begins, with Alana bent over her boss’ desk in his private office, she is partially undressed, wearing just her high heels and lingerie: a see-through black bra, lace panties, stockings and garter-belt; an outfit chosen specifically for this occasion. Her boss is standing behind her, arm raised, aimed at her backside.
For those of you who wish to know how Alana ended up in this situation, you should read a story of anticipation. Those who want to see Alana squirm and moan, squeal and suffer, stay and enjoy this story.
Alana breathes deeply when her boss’ hand comes down against her backside. The tingling sensation of anticipation and nervousness is replaced by a gentle sting that spreads through her skin.
She bites her lip when he raises his hand again, aiming it at the other side, balancing out the pain when he brings it down. Again and again he smacks her bottom, left and right, high and low, spreading that stinging sensation all over her backside and upper-thighs.
Alana moans deeply as the slowly building pain is no match for the arousal she feels by submitting herself to this punishment, by how exposed she feels in her boss’ office in just her lingerie. Her pussy is hot and wet. Her black panties might hide it for now, but her boss will surely find out when they come down.
The sound of her boss’ hand connecting with her bottom echoes in the small room. They are accompanied by only her moans for now, yet the scolding should soon follow. Alana is looking forward to that, those words of critique and judgment lend an air of authenticity to her discipline. It creates the illusion that this is not just a sexual fantasy, no matter how aroused she gets.
Alana tries to count the swats in her head, she often does, but like always she quickly loses count as her bottom begins to glow, growing hot and red. The sounds of pleasure that escape from her lips interfere with her ability to keep track.
This was a preview.
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Or wait until the story gets published in one of my upcoming books.