Over Again — slave girl sara

A Fantasy Story from the Mind of slave girl sara

Her Sir was never harsh, but all the time fair.

If she needed a sound spanking, she got one, and she usually deserved one, or at least would talk herself into that wondered.

She all the time accepted it but most of all thanked her Sir for his love, respect and protection.

If she got a bedtime spanking, it too had to have been well deserved, received and all the time appreciated.

She had been summoned to Sir’s study and told to come in wearing just her dressing gown.

This meant Sir did not want a show, did not need the titillation of seeing her squirm at her own embarrassment as her top came off and then her bra, freeing her young tits.

The swaying of her nipple ended tits as she bent over to remove her shoes and socks, all well-rehearsed of course to suit Sir.

She knew how he loved her tits, her cute nipples all the time ready to point towards him when given the instruction to strip.

She knocked, entered His study and walked to the corner, removed her dressing gown and stood hands on head, naked.

The corner, which had a window facing the garden.

The garden where the odd job man was doing the lawns and borders.

Her skin glistened in the sunlight from the window, the corner of her eye caught sight of the odd job man, yes, he was looking right at her.

She coughed and moved her hand to her mouth, her breasts bouncing, she looked and the odd job man was sniggering, he was so handsome, she looked sideways at him and saw his bulge, she reddened up and concentrated on the job at hand.

She heard the spanking stool scrape along the wooden floor, and Sir’s cane cupboard open.

She gulped as she heard the swish, she recognised the sound, it was the junior, whippy cane, the one which lined at the slightest touch of skin on her bottom.

The cane tapped three times on the spanking stool

She turned, and head down, approached the stool, leant forward and bent right over.

A hand on each leg, gripped tight.

A leg covering each of the other two stool legs.

Pussy lips just open.

Her bottom, so inviting the lash of Sir`s chosen implement.

With little introduction, just a few light aim taps across both well used cheeks.

Whoosh crack the first stripe.

So, so hard, it even made her tight, well looked after toned bottom quiver into ripples like a stone piercing the surface of a calm lake.

Four more, just as hard, just as precise.

Sir stopped, walked to the cupboard and replaced the cane.

A knock on the door, it was the young gardener who had come for his money, “Come in, sorry, I`m just dealing with a problem, you can sit and wait if you like, I will be done in about ten minutes, in fact, do come into my study and wait”

“Thank you.”

Thank goodness it was over she wondered, she had obviously deserved it, and would probably be told why later, such were the methods of this HoH home.

The gardener watching was not a great issue, she had often been punished in public, if it was her Sir`s wish, she accepted without question, it`s what happened to naughty girls having their naughty bare bottoms spanked.

She fully accepted certain dinner parties Sir held where she would not only have to serve his guests naked with food at the table but also with her hand, mouth and tongue after dinner under the table.

Going round each guest in turn and bringing each to a climax.

She was then the after dinner entertainment with a medley of well-practised sexual acts with household items and allowing His guests to handle her before he whipped her body, back and front.

Not hard or excessive, just enough to draw a scream or whimper from her as the lash touched a delicate place, but more importantly left a witness mark.

Back to the here and now, her eyes never leaving Sir if it was at all efficient, omg, Sir was undoing His belt!

What had she done to deserve the cane and a leathering, and why not the leathering first and then the cane?

Her thoughts took her mind off what was to come until the first lash landed over the cane stripes.

Between lashes he was talking to the gardener on what was finished and what was still to be done.

She tried to count but lost her train of wondered as the lashes did their work.

Her tears buried the conversation and she knew her wetness would betray her to a trained eye like Sir`s.

The rain of lashes ceased and she heard Sir go to his desk and take out his box and the man was paid for his work.

The front door opened, she heard words spoken and the door closed.

Sir came through the house and out of the French windows onto the lawn.

On his return he lifted up her chin, “The next time I catch you flirting with ANYONE I do not give permission for, you will be flogged on the drive for all to see, right?”

She was in between sobs as he waited for the answer and he slapped her face on both cheeks for being kept waiting.

He was not an impatient man but demanded respect.

She recognised the squeak of Sir’s cane cupboard opening again.

She knew she had to be taught a lesson and deserved one.

Sir whooshed the cane in the air and she looked around at him and spoke, “Thank you Sir” she gripped the stool legs and took a deep breath.

Not answering, or hesitating when asked, was an immediate return to the begin of the punishment.

Whoosh crack…

As the first stroke slapped onto her naked skin a wondered fleetingly went through her mind. What on earth was she called to his study for if the punishment she had just been given was for flirting?