He wore his riding boots, worn from age and experience, his chaps, laced up the sides and closed in the back with black parachord, his leather jacket, with snaps instead of a zipper, and his leather gloves, which more often than not massaged the back of my mouth. No other garment graced his frame.
I, naturally, wore nothing.
I knelt before him, arms behind my back, eyes down as instructed. I drunk in the image of his boots, the smell of his leathers wafting all around me. I resisted the urge to lick my lips, knowing soon I would have the pleasure of tasting his leathers.
I heard the hard jangle, then saw in my periphery the small length of chain held in his hand. He stepped forward, bent over me, and secured my wrists behind my back with the click of the lock taken from his jacket pocket.
As he worked, for less than a minute, I nuzzled his chaps with my cheek and felt his cock in my hair. It was well on its way to standing at attention.
He stepped back, gripped my locks, and pulled my head up. I got to look into his eyes. Like his lips, his eyes were smiling widely.
“What a naughty girl; I thought you were suppose to be my good girl.”
I smiled back, then tried to kiss him. He, of course, pulled away. Then I pouted.
He let go of my hair, flinging my head away, and stepped back. My gaze returned down, looking at, drinking in, his boots.
Rocking back on my heels, I ascended.
“Turn around.” I did.
“Spread your legs wide.” I did.
“Bend over.” Uh oh. I did.
I knew what was to come next.
“Such a naughty girl deserves her spanking early.”
Early spankings were hard spankings. Early spankings meant a red ass for days.
I bent my knees slightly, rested my wrists on my lower back, and tried to relax yet brace myself for what was to come. He was going to wallop me but good.
At first I felt the gentlest of caresses on my right cheek, soft and sensual, a mean tease. And then came the smack, the loud crack, the painful stingy blow. My body rocked forward, but I did not fall.
“What number was that?”
“Have you forgotten all your manners today?”
A smack graced my left ass cheek.
“Two Daddy. Thank you Daddy.”
“Now that is my good girl.”
All further hits would receive equal courtesies.
“Three Daddy. Thank you Daddy. Four Daddy. Thank you Daddy.”
Before hit five, he slipped his left arm across my chest, bracing my body. As I knew they would be, his hits grew harder.
“Five Daddy. Thank you Daddy. Six Daddy. Thank you Daddy.”
The tears came easily, sliding down my face and dotting the carpeted floor. My voice produced a lilt; I couldn’t stop my words from sounding stunted.
“Se-ven Dad-dy. Tha-ank you Dad-dy. Ei-ight Dad-dy. Tha-ank you Dad-dy.”
He took two steps, positioning his body in front of me. My shoulder rested against his hip. I leaned into his body. With both hands, as hard as he could, he smacked both of my cheeks at once.
“Nine! Daddy. Thank you Daddy.”
My voice was now a drawl-like wail. I sobbed as I leaned against him.
I still had one more to go.
Again, with both hands, his palms came down on my cheeks as hard as he could muster.
“Ten! Dad-dee…” He dung his nails into my ass, scratching the raw flesh and elongating my speech. His nails ran up my back, up my arms, and dug into my shoulders. Gripping down, he lifted my frame back to standing up.
Looking into his eyes, I finished.
“Thank you Daddy.”
“That’s my good girl.”
He lightly kissed my forehead, my nose, and then my lips.
My ass burned, sore and sensitive to the touch.
I knew this was only our warm up.
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