VenomFan's Blog

Brad walks into the bedroom to find Jill still in her panties, leafing through her closet. Of course, this wasn't exactly a bad thing; he did like the way she looked, standing there in her panties, her back to him, allowing him a nice view of her curves. But he did have dinner reservations, and he had told her to be ready when he got there so they could make it to the restaurant in time. Sighing, he checked the time. He was a couple minutes early, so he leaned against the door frame, folding his arms across his chest as he watched her look through her clothes. Indecisive, as always, she held up one dress after another, muttering to herself.

When the time came, he shook his head and stalked into the room, coming up behind her quietly. He stood behind a moment more, enjoying her soft scent and the gorgeous view of her delightful body. Inhaling deeply, keeping himself calm and focused, he could smell her jasmine-scented body wash lingering about her. His hands settled on her waist, just above the sheer black fabric of her panties. She jumped at his touch, so lost in her deliberations that she hadn't noticed him before.

Leaning in close to the delicate sea-shell shape of her ear, he asked "What are you doing?" his voice low, rough.

Jill melts back into his touch, reaching back behind her with one hand, feeling for his as she leans back against him, her bare skin feeling his shirt and sensing the warmth of his chest behind the fabric. Her eyes close, and she crooks her neck, nuzzling the side of her face into his neck and shoulder. One knee bends and she rubs the side of her bare foot against his pant leg.

"I'm picking out something to wear for you tonight at dinner." She breathes deeply, smelling his strong, slightly sweaty scent. "Hmmm. I love the way a man smells when he's been working hard." Leaning up, she kisses his cheek, and feels his jaw set tightly.

"Oh, god, what time is it?" she asks, suddenly worried. "I'm late again, aren't I?" She whirls around and leans to the side looking past him at the clock. "Oh, shit, I am. I'm sorry, I couldn't decide what to wear..." Her voice trails off, and she looks up at him, her eyes wide.

"Sit on the bed. I'll get something for you to wear." His voice is calm, controlled, but there is an edge to it. A hard, flinty edge like the ancient knives she studied some in school, chiseled and sharp.

Nodding meekly, she moves to the bed and sits at the foot, her hands folded in her lap. The heat from inside her panties teases at her hands; she likes it when he picks out her clothes. It feels good to have someone to care for her the way he does. At first her gaze is centered on her hands, but it moves to the contrasting colors of her supple skin and the sheer black panties, and then it flicks to the padded bench he had built for her.

The bench was unusual. The legs were about a foot and a half tall, and the bench itself was only about that eight … inches long and six or seven inches wide, the wood stained dark and topped with padded black leather. Rising from the extended base was a thin stand with a padded bar sat atop it, about waist high if she was kneeling on the bench. The whole thing was set on a large piece of dark stained wood that was as wide as the bench and about three feet long. Her nipples began to grow hard as she looked at the bench, and her breath grew shallow and quick.

He rummaged in the closet for a moment, and returned with black, one-piece, sleeveless dress with narrow shoulder straps. She had worn the dress on several occasions, and knew that it fell just above her knees and that she couldn't wear a bra with it. His other hand had a pair of strappy black high-heels that he always said gave her legs a nice curve and accented her voluptuous ass. Setting them down next to her, he turned to the dresser and pulled open a drawer. After a moment spent rooting around, he pulled out a pair of dark thigh high stockings with black lace trim. He stepped back over to her and knelt in front of her, lifting one foot and slowly rolling the stocking up her smooth leg. Once done, he repeated the process with the other leg, and then placed the high heels on her feet.

He took her hand and stood, pulling her up with him, drawing her close to him. His arms wrapped around her and squeezed her for a moment. Bending low, he whispered in her ear. "After I dress you, I'm going to bend you over the bench and spank you for being late. Again. And I'm going to make sure you remember it for a long time." Her eyes closed, and she shivered, her mouth open and moving wordlessly. He pushed her back gently and leaned over to grab the dress. She raised her arms, and he pulled the dress down over her. Once it was settled in place, he reached up and tugged the front down, leaving her breasts bare, her nipples hard and tight.

Taking her hand again, he led her to the bench, and she knelt on it, leaning forward and pressing her waist against the padded bar.

"Lift your dress up and pull your panties down." The flinty quality of his voice was no longer just the edge; his every word was hard now. With a slight hesitation, she did as he said. "Now cross your hands behind your back." Taking a breath to settle her nerves, she placed her hands behind her back, crossing her wrists. "on't move."

He stepped to the side, lifting something from dresser. She swallowed nervously, but didn't dare move. The hard pinch of the clamp on her nipple made her suck her breath in through her teeth. The second clamp didn't garner the same reaction, but it was still tight and mildly painful. Her nipples sent ripples of fiery protest through her breasts. He reached beneath her again and clipped something to each clamp, holding them in his palm. She glanced up at him, her mouth opening as if to say something, and he dropped his hand, allowing the weights to fall. The sudden hard tug on her nipples made her close her eyes and squeal, but it didn't really hurt; it was more a sudden yank, stretching her nipples, making her breasts sag towards the floor.

"You will count each swat and thank me. If you don't count, or if you lose count, we will start over. If you don't thank me, we will start over. If you move your hands, we will start over." As he speaks, the slithering sound of his belt being pulled from his pants teases her ears. She shifts some on the bench, aware of the growing heat and slipperiness between her thighs. "Ready?" he asks her.

She nods, and he draws his hand back.

As his belt lands against her ass, she gives a soft 'oof,' and rocks forward, sending the weights dangling from her clamped nipples swinging back and forth. Her nipples are tugged to and fro, and it is a struggle to keep her hands clasped together in the small of her back. His hand pulls back again, and there is whooshing sound as the belt pushes the air aside, the leather striking her cheeks again, just a bit lower, the new red mark overlapping the first. There is a pause as he waits for a response. Hearing nothing, his arm sets into motion again, and the black leather belt, worn smooth from several years spent wrapped around his waist, splits the air and finds her soft flesh, wrapping around the curve of her cheeks, lower again but still overlapping both the first and second marks. He pauses again.

"One, sir. Thank you," she sniffles, her voice halting. Her eyes are watering, but her cheeks are still dry for the time being.

Nodding in satisfaction, he flicks the belt briefly before drawing his arm back again. Crack! The sharp sound of leather against skin fills the air, and a new mark is left across her ass.

"Two, sir. Thank you." She sniffs hard, … fighting back the tears. Her breasts shake as she draws in a trembling breath, and her legs quiver on the padded bench. Were it not for the bar against her hips that supported her, she would have fallen forward at the first blow. Even now, the weights hanging below her danced, each small bounce stretching and tugging her nipples more. As her breasts move with each breath she shakily draws in, the weights jiggle and pull at her aching buds, and the fiery sensation of the clamps spread through her, feeding the slickness that is growing between her thighs.

Again, her ass is striped by the belt, each mark just a little lower on her skin, moving steadily from the upper curve of her cheek downwards, leaving her flesh covered in stripes of varying hues of pink and red. Each swat falls, and she counts each one, thanking him for disciplining her. Again and again and again the belt strikes her, and she quivers and trembles more with each one, her nipples being tugged and pulled as the weights clamped them bounce and swing, each movement making her nipples ache.

"S-s-seven, sir. Th-thank you," she stammers, her tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. Her arms are trembling as she resists the urge to cover herself. He watches as her hands clench and unclench, her fingernails digging into her palms, her wrists still crossed in the small of her back.

The belt sings through the air, followed by another loud crack as it licks across her butt, this time about halfway down the twin curves of her cheeks. She gasps loudly, and her hands almost leave her back, but she wills them back into place. She takes a deep breath, and he is pulling his arm back again when she finally speaks.

"Eight, sir. Thank you," she squeaks out, panting. He nods in satisfaction before sending the belt back down against her ass.

"Nine, sir. Thank you." Her tears are flowing freely now, but the light catches the glistening over her inner thighs as they rub against each other. Below the pink and red stripes of her ass, he can see the pink of her bare lips.

The next swat comes fast and hard, the sound of leather against her skin louder in the room than before. Her hands clench tightly as she throws her head back, and she rises off of the bar briefly before settling back against it, trembling.

"Ten, sir. Thank you," she says through clenched teeth. "May I stand now, sir?"

"Not yet." His voice is calm, soothing, in stark contrast to earlier. "Before we leave, I need to make sure that you won't forget your lesson."

She shivers, but remains as she is. He steps closer, one hand gingerly, gently running over her hot skin. At first she winces and shrinks away from his touch, but his hand feels good against her tender flesh, and she groans softly as she melts into his palm.

"Spread your legs."

His voice is firm now, but still calm. She takes comfort in his words, knowing that he only disciplines her for her own good, trusting that he will take care of her. Her weight shifts as she moves her knees apart on the padded bench, opening herself to him. His hand runs across her red skin once more, and then he spreads her cheeks, exposing her tightly puckered hole and the dampness below it. She shivers and bites her lip when she feels the cool lube pressed against her, and he gently nudges at her back passage, working the lube against her ring. Taking a deep breath, knowing what is coming, she relaxes her muscles, and his finger eases inside of her, rotating and coating her with lube. Gently, he withdraws his finger. A few seconds later, the soft but insistent butt plug is pressed against her ass, and he slowly pushes it into her. She moans quietly as the plug is pushed deeper into her, gradually stretching her open until her hole closes down on the tapered end, sucking the plug inside of her ass, seating it deeply within and holding the base tightly between her cheeks.

"You may stand now. Keep your panties around your knees and hold your dress up. Stand in the corner, nose to the wall, until I am ready to go."

He offers his hand, and she grips it, carefully stepping off of the bench. Once her shoes are on the floor, she lets go of his hand and takes hold of her dress, holding it at her waist. The panties around her knees hobble her as she moves to the corner, placing her nose into the crease where the walls meet. As she stands there, she smells the paint on the walls, the light dust that collects there, but also the faintly musky scent of her own arousal. The bodice of her dress is still pulled down below her breasts, and the weights still pull her aching nipples down. Seeking relief, she surreptitiously presses her breasts against the wall, sighing as the cool sensation soothes the burning in her hard buds. She hears sounds behind her, but doesn't dare to turn and see what he is doing, though she suspects he is changing for dinner. At last, she hears the distinct sound of his belt being threaded into the loops at his waist. Soft steps precede his hand on her shoulder.

"Turn."

She does as she is told, and he removes the weights from the clamps. Carefully, he opens each clamp and pockets them, and then massages her breasts and nipples gently. The sudden flow of blood back to her nipples makes her hiss in pain, but his hands ease the sensation. She still aches, though, and knows that she will for some time, but she also knows that by the time dinner is finished that the ache will be more of a dull throb. Already, she feels a similar feeling between her wet lips. Once he is done rubbing her breasts, he pulls her dress back up to cover them, adjusting the material until she is properly covered, and then pats her chest gently when he is done.

"You may pull your panties back up and lower your dress." His eyes wander over her bare mound as she moves to comply, watching her intently as her panties move back up her smooth, creamy thighs and cover her womanhood. She winces a little as the fabric slides over her tender ass. Once they are snugly in place, she allows her dress to drop back down, covering her.

Presenting his crooked arm, he raises an eyebrow at her.

"Shall we?"

She smiles at him, her eyes wandering over him appreciatively, the heat in her ass feeding the fire between her legs. He does look good all dressed up, she thought as she licked her lips in anticipation of what was waiting for after dinner.

"We shall," she says, her hand taking his arm. She smiles tenderly at him, and nuzzles her head against his shoulder. "Oh, we shall," she says, giggling. He smiles warmly at her, and they walk across the room and out the door.