I had to ask him for butt sex...

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Ahmaud Arbery: Was Justice Served?

As a bookend to the Kyle Rittenhouse case I covered in a previous post, at the same time there was the Ahmaud Arbery case in which three older white men, Travis McMichael (34), his father Gregory McMichael (64), and neighbour  William "Roddie" Bryan Jr. (50) were charged with multiple felony murder and other counts all relating to the shooting death of 25-year old Arbery.

Ahmaud Arbery

Arbery was a bit of a gangster. He was a school dropout, was apprehended with an illegal concealed pistol (tugged into the waistband of his pants) trying to enter a high school basketball game, drove a gold Camry, was detained by police officers for suspected marijuana possession, resisted arrest, was tasered (unsuccessfully), ran from police, shoplifted numerous times (using "jogging" as an excuse - he was knows as "the jogger" by police), and was convicted of stealing a TV from a Walmart.

At the time of the incident he was jogging in the relatively prosperous neighborhood of Glynn County Georgia near Brunswick called Satilla Shores about 8 miles away from where he lived with his mother in downtown Brunswick.

A Satilla Shores house

There had been a rash of breakins in the neighborhood recently with security cameras showing black men doing it, and the residents were on their guard. Arbery was spotted in the backyard and snooping inside a house that was under construction.

A person called the police and reported Arbery for trespassing. Her video captured Arbery bolting out of the house at high speed, looking like he was spooked by something?

He runs through the neighborhood and first the McMichaels and then Bryan get into their pickup trucks with the intent of chasing him down and detaining him until the cops arrive (a "citizen's arrest").

The very athletic, in-shape Arbery gives them a huge chase but appears to eventually tire after over four minutes of non-stop sprinting. The McMichaels cut him off with their truck and Travis, who was driving, gets out with his shotgun. Rather than run around and away (he may have feared he would be shot in the back? Or he may have felt he could not outrun them any longer?), Arbery instead went around the car and started fighting with Travis. The 64 year-old Dad was observing, with a pistol in hand, standing on the truckbed. This was all caught on video by Bryan who was driving up at the time. The father was on with 9-1-1 from the truckbed.

There was an initial shot fired which may have been a response to Arbery lunging for the gun, then they wrestle for control of the gun.

Arbery is seen punching Travis in the head repeatedly. There is another shot just off camera. Arbery continues to wrestle and punch Travis, and then there is a third shot fired that kills Arbery.

Most of this can be seen on video. Here is one compilation:

The DA charged all three men with multiple counts and the verdict is now in, rendered by a jury consisting of 11 whites and 1 black.

All the charges somehow relate to this one incident. Some are for assault with the gun, others for assault with the trucks (that was very unclear to me). They are variously charged with committing the counts or being accessories to them. The murders all carry a sentence of life imprisonment with no chance of parole for 30 years. Since they are found guilty of multiple charges, it makes them "multiple offenders" (even though no other criminal record) which increases the sentencing guidelines and removes the possibility of parole. Sentences have yet to be handed down.

I ask the question, was justice served?

The defense's case was that the men were entitled to effect a citizen's arrest based on the observed trespassing. After that, it was arguably self-defense after Arbery lunged for the gun.

What muddies the case was whether they were entitled to effect a citizen's arrest. The Georgia law on it was very unclear at the time (and has since been amended as a result of this incident, which may give you a clue!). The law at the time was only two sentences long:

A private person may arrest an offender if the offense is committed in his presence or within his immediate knowledge. If the offense is a felony and the offender is escaping or attempting to escape, a private person may arrest him upon reasonable and probable grounds of suspicion.

I think it's relatively clear that if it's not a felony you're allowed to effect a citizen's arrest if you have immediate knowledge of a crime (trespassing in this case). It's arguable that they had "immediate knowledge" as Arbery was spotted running out of the house. If it's a felony, you don't need that, but a lesser certainty of reasonable and probable. If the law is ambiguous, it must be interpreted in a manner that favours the defendants.

So, I think (based on the convincing arguments of many legal experts) that under Georgia law they were entitled to effect a citizen's arrest. I think the law is overly vague and should not allow for citizen's arrest for minor things like trespass, but it was the law.

The judge in this case really dropped the ball by not clarifying the law for the jury, but leaving it up to the jury to interpret the law, which is not their job.

Once citizen's arrest is allowed, all the other charges would fall away, with the exception of whether excessive force was used by Travis McMichael in defending himself. Many would argue that having been shot twice already, the third, killing shot, was uneccessary. This was the basis on which Travis was convicted of "malice murder" (pre-meditated). However, until the final shot Arbery was still attempting to wrestle the gun away, and had he gained possession it is reasonable to assume he would have tried to shoot his opponents to defend himself.

It's an ugly incident all around. Clearly, Arbery was no "innocent jogger". Clearly the good 'ol boys in their pickup should not have chased down Arbery with trucks and guns over a trespass. I cannot blame Arbery for fleeing for his life and at that point for attempting to wrestle the gun away. I cannot blame Travis at that point for shooting Arbery to stop it. I can blame Travis for shooting that third time, I think it was likely not necessary and may have been malicious and racist in the moment.

There is evidence that Travis McMichael had racist views of blacks, based on phone messages, and was said by Bryan to have muttered "fucking nigger" when he was walking callously away from the dying Arbery.

I think the just outcome was for Travis to be convicted of some sort of manslaughter with something like a 10 year sentence, and for the other two to have been convicted of some lesser crime involving a year or so in jail.

I think giving life sentences, with no chance of parole, for all three, is not justice. I think the outcome is evidence of reverse racism - they were going to make an example of these men because of their race versus the race of the victim. And while there may be some larger "societal good" given racist tensions of such severe punishments, I don't think the individuals deserved it, and certainly not Gregory McMichael and Bryan.

What are your thoughts?

My Penny got Birched!

There are some women commentators and authors in the spanking realm who just seem to express what I am thinking better than I can myself. I discussed PK Corey and Jillian Keenan in previous posts. Along those lines, a blog reader recently sent me a quick email suggesting I have a look at the work of Penny Birch:

Julie, If you're feeling submissive and mucking around online you might check out author Penny Birch. No one (except yourself) can write a more imaginative and diverse female submissive novel. She has written over 20 books many of which can be found on Amazon Kindle. Ratings are also available on Goodreads. These are wild and erotic. I encourage you to give one a try. Yours [xxx]

Buy them HERE

I had a quick look at a few previews online, and wrote back:

Thank you [xxx]!

I had a look at a bunch of them and selected one which seems amazing: "Brat". When she writes about disciplinary spankings it feels like me writing!
I'll give you a book report after I've read it!

Julie

So, [xxx], this post is your book report!

Also, thank you very much for the compliment regarding my own writing. I realize it perhaps was thrown in de rigueur, but appreciate it anyways. In fact, Penny and I share many of the same tastes and fantasies, in particular the importance of exposure and humiliation when combined with spanking, and that was very much the theme of my own femsub book:

Click HERE to buy one

As for Penny's books, mine was fictional, but filled with activities I have very much done in my private life which informed the writing. This includes even public play and witnessed spankings where I have been on the receiving end, and of course, being a real-life spanked wife.

But enough about me shilling my own books, let's discuss Penny Birch!

Penny's favourite avator

Penny is/was a UK-based author and seems to be no longer active. She has not published anything recently and her website is no longer live. If anybody knows anything about Penny's fate or current whereabouts, please let us know in the comments. 

Penny was very much into Pony Play and even belonged to an association in England that promoted it. Many of her books are less spanking-focused and more rough sex and S&M. But when she does write about spanking, oh boy it's exciting!

Penny was once interviewed by a certain "Miss Marchmont" who seems to have been a popular UK-based dominatrix. Her site is now defunct, but I managed to scrape the interview off the Wayback machine and rescued it on a page on my blog for posterity: Miss Marchmont Interview with Miss Penny Birch. Here are some of the most pertinent excerpts from that:

I stand 5’ 2” in my bare feet. I’m slight and wear my dark hair in a bob. Nice people tell me I’m pretty, cheeky ones tell me I’ve got a fat bottom. I was born and educated in south-east England, went to Oxford University and have followed an academic career, which I keep very carefully separate from my sex life and my erotic writing.

All my life I have been fascinated with having my bottom spanked, and all my other erotic fantasies come from this central need.

My first erotic spanking was with a boyfriend in Portsmouth. He was really obsessed with my bottom and used to feel it at every opportunity, often in very embarrassing public places. He would pat my bottom cheeks and call me naughty in front of his friends, which really got to me although it was right on the borderline between being fun and putting me off him. One day on Southsea beach I was sunbathing in a really tiny bikini and he pulled the back down to show his friends my bottom. I was furious but it really got to me and that evening I told him about my spanking fantasies. He had me bend over a desk in his room and smacked my bottom with a ruler, first on my jeans and then bare.

I’ll spank anybody who spanks me. In fact now I won’t let anyone spank me unless they are prepared to let me do it to them in return. I really hate the sort of stuck up mentality that feels that spanking me makes them genuinely superior and I simply won’t do it.

When spanking a girl I like to imagine her going through the same feelings of helplessness, exposure, humiliation, pain and excitement that I enjoy so much myself. With men it doesn’t so much turn me on as give me a really fine sense of revenge.

I have always enjoyed writing and have always preferred to write dirty stories. To write at a professional or semi-professional level I believe an author needs a genuine compulsion to write. Imagination is the next most important thing, and then a willingness to put down your true feelings on paper. Technical things, like sentence structure and modern usage and whether you should “tell” or “show” a story are all far less important. If you have to force it you probably shouldn’t be doing it.With me it is more a question of stopping myself from writing than of making myself write. My head is always full of plots and ideas for scenes, and when I write I always do it from the heart, and if possible describe experiences that I have enjoyed myself.

After asking Penny about the horniest and dirtiest scenes she has taken part in, and Penny going quite over the deep end in her lurid descripions, Miss Marchmont ends the interview this way:

I want to reassure the reader that at this point in the interview, due to the fact that Miss Birch was behaving like a naughty, dirty little girl, she was hauled over my knee for a brisk hand-spanking. This, however, seemed to excite rather than punish her lewd conduct. I therefore had to apply a few strokes of my tawse which soon got the contrition I expect from young wards in my care.

Oh My Gosh! How awesome would it be to be interviewed about your spanking writing and then given a spanking from your interviewer for being such a dirtly slut!

In a collection of short stories, Penny Pieces, she writes,

Being spanked is a pretty emotional experience for a girl, and that doesn't go away, no matter how many times it happens. I've lost all count of the number of times I've been spanked, but it is still strong and I still crave more. Pleasure is the overriding feeling for me, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, both physically and mentally. The moment when my panties come down still fills me with an overwhelming sense of shame and exposure, and I'm not acting when I kick and squeal. Sometimes I even cry. Spanking hurts even when the victim is enjoying it, even when it is the thing she wants most, and some people seem to forget that. I want my arm twisted or my hair pulled to hold me in place; I want my bottom exposed and my cheeks spread to show off my pussy and bumhole; I want to be spanked until I howl. My emotions are real, and I hope that knowing that will be part of what makes my tormentor demand her pussy licked or his cock attended to once I've been thoroughly punished

Punishment is the key, the idea being that however much I may want my spanking I am being given it because I deserve it.

Generally I prefer girls, but for a spanking to really hurt it must come from a man; some great, hulking brute twice my weight with hands like hams.

Spankings should be painful for the victim, but from a psychological point of view the pain isn't really necessary at all. What matters most is that the girl knows she has been punished, that she suffers all the humiliation and indignity of having her bottom bared and smacked. The idea of spanking as a degrading punishment is so deeply ingrained in society that the very knowledge that it has been done is enough to keep me on edge long after the pain has failed. The stinging goes, the marks go, but a spanked girl is a spanked girl forever.

Every single word of that is dead on. I could have written that myself had I been as skilled as Penny.

[P.S. I have Penny's books on Kindle which prevents me from copying and pasting excerpts for my review. Therefore I have to retype them all by hand. It feels like some sort of weird punishment assignment to have to write them all out that way. As I get very excited typing them all out, I do so with my jeans and my panties down at my ankles, sometimes rubbing my pussy between bouts of typing. I did a lot of this during the day, while I should have been working. If David were to have caught me in the act, I would 100% for sure have been spanked on the spot. I came multiple times copying out Penny's words... bear that in mind as you continue reading the text in blue.]

In that same short story she imagined the burly rowing coach as being the type of man who could see to her. She knew he had little respect for women, and heard of a story where he pulled one of the female cox's ponytails so that she stumbled into the Thames, then laughed as she came up choking and sputtering. Penny imagined herself being that girl, and imagined she might sneak into his office later in the day to exact some revenge but being caught in the act and told to come to practice one hour earlier next day. He told her, straight out that he was going to take her across his knee, pull down her shorts and panties, and spank her hard. Poor Penny that had to go an entire 24 hours in anticipation of her spanking. We'll pick up the spanking right after she was taken across his lap and bared:

I gasped in shock as my bottom was laid bare, then again as he cocked his leg up higher still and my bum-cheeks came open.

My bumhole was showing, I just knew it. I'd expected him to want to see it, but the reality was far, far worse than anything I had imagined. I was bare, my cheeks were wide and I could feel the cool air on my anal skin and the warmth of his leg against my pussy. It was too much, and I burst into tears, only to have every other emotion blown away by pain as his huge hand came down across my bare bottom with all the force of his arm.

Oh yes, Penny knows. She knows as I do the damage a bare male hand can do to a poor girl's bottom. I feel a definite sense of sisterhood with all women who understand that basic fact of life.

It hurt. It hurt so much that I lost all control of my body. I was shaking my head, gasping, sobbing and screaming for mercy. My fists were beating on his legs, my hair was flying around my head. I was kicking my legs and bucking my body under his arm, no longer caring about the lewd display of my anus and vagina. Nothing mattered but the agonising swats on my bottom, smack after smack, falling in a fast relentless rhythm to the tune of my squeals.

I'd started crying from shame, but now I was really blubbering, with the tears making a wet patch on the concrete floor beneath my head. He knew, but he just laughed and went right on spanking, not even pausing as he tightened his grip around my waist. There was nothing to do, only kick and wriggle and howl out my agony until I was dizzy with it and thought I would faint.

Honestly, this is everything that happens to me during a real punishment spanking from my David, like the one I got the other night for swearing at him. I know it's going to be like this, and having to walk over to him and drape myself across his lap, knowing there would be no reprieve until he believes I have been properly punished, is the most terrifying and butterfly inducing feeling in the world. I don't think he even knows what it does to me. It's just a spanking for a naughty wife to him. I liken it a bit to that moment when you are about to dive into icy cold lake water. You just pluck up your courage and dive, then you are briefly in mid-air and you say "what have I done???" and then you hit the icy cold water and pain goes everywhere. Except I know my spankings will be five or more minutes of pure, fiery, unrelenting, hell for my butt. But I jump anyways, regret during, and masturbate to it afterwards.

Penny continues,

I didn't think it could possibly get any worse, but as he once more shifted my body on his lap I found my pussy spread hard on his leg. The slaps began to jam my clit against him. I was going to come, I couldn't help it. I was going to come, and he'd think I was turned on. I was, and I yelled out as it happened, begging for more, begging for it harder, unable to help myself while all the while a little voice in the back of my head was screaming that I didn't want it, that it was the worst possible thing.

This has happened to me as well, most famously and unexpectedly when alone across my sister's leg as I was getting the worst wooden spoon bum beating of my life. I felt my body had betrayed me and utterly shamed me to my very core.

After I'd come I slumped across his lap. [He] laughed and went on with my spanking. He knew it had happened and he thought it was funny, which was the final indignity. Not that it mattered, because he soon had me kicking again by transferring his attention to the backs of my legs. There was a brief pause as my shorts and panties were pulled right down and off, which I did nothing to resist. He went back to work, methodically slapping my legs to the same state as my bottom, indifferent to my continued squealing and blubbering until once more I thought I would faint from the pain.

It was not lost on me that the spanking was being given immediately before practice, and she wore shorts. Her spanked thighs would be seen by everybody!

The spanking stopped as suddenly as it had begun, leaving me gasping for breath. My buttocks were stinging dreadfully, throbbing too, and so hot. My bottom was up and my legs were wide, showing everything, but I no longer cared. I'd been beaten by him, beaten into submission and I felt as if he had every right to see my most intimate parts.

Yes, I know this about myself as well. If I allow a man to beat me as he has done to the girl in the story, I would feel an intense degree of sexual submissiveness.

I did it myself, I don't know why, it just seemed as if I had to. His cock was hard against my tummy, and even as he let go of my waist and I slumped to the ground in a kneeling position my hands were going to his fly. He opened his knees and I shuffled forwards, popping the buttons of his trousers as I did so. His zip came down and I looked up to find surprise on his face, also lust. Still not knowing why I was doing it I took hold of my top and pulled it up, my sports bra with it, exposing my breasts to him. He smiled a dirty, knowing leer, then closed his eyes in bliss as I pulled open the front of his underpatns and took his stiff cock in my hand.

My bottom was stuck out as I masturbated him, hot and red, beaten and goose-pimpled, my cheeks wide to show my pussy and bumhole behind. Half of me wanted his cock inside me, slid up between my reddened buttocks, maybe even in my bottom-hole. I knew I'd do it, and I began to jerk frantically at his erection, desperate to make him come before my resolve snapped and I took him in my hole.

I think it would have happened if he hadn't grabbed me by the hair and forced my head against his penis. He ordered me to suck, snarling out the command, only to come in my face as my lips touched the bulbous head of his cock. I tried to pull away and got an eyefull of semen for my trouble. He milked the rest out over my neck and breasts, soiling my top and wiping his slimy cock-head in my face. Even as he slumped back I was running for the Ladies where I locked myself into a cubicle, sat my hot bottom down on the lavatory seat and masturbated myself dizzy...

Beaten and completely sexually degraded, and wanting it.

That is just one of many short stories, all of them really good and humiliating for poor Penny. You can get the book here:

Penny Pieces by Penny Birch

 

I sampled a bunch of Penny's books and read three. Of the novel-length books, "Brat" stands out as my favourite, so I'll describe that one in detail and excerpt some of the bits that particularly excited me.

"Brat" starts with Penny's main character, Natasha, explaining how her view on disciplinary spanking recently changed:

Had anybody ever had the courage to tell me that I needed discipline, I would simply have laughed. [...] Just recently my real feelings would have been different to say the least. Instead of being filled with righteous indignation I would have been deeply embarrassed, and not by what they had said, but by my own reaction to it. While they would probably have been thinking of discipline in the sense of organization and efficiency, my thoughts would have been of something rather different as I walked away with my cheeks red with blushes. In my imagination their suggestion would have been that I needed to be taken across their lap with my arm twisted into the small of my back, my neat woolen skirt lifted up to my waist and my silk panties pulled down into a tangle around my thighs. Then I would have thought of how it would have felt to be spanked by them. Yes, spanked, with my bottom bare to humiliate me and make my pain worse; spanked while I kicked and blubbered and begged; spanked like the snotty, spoilt, impudent little brat that I am.

What a wonderful opening to a book and such breathtaking writing that strikes right into my own heart!

Natasha explains how she got turned onto spanking recently overhearing a man tell his girlfriend about the public spanking of another girl that he had witnessed. She explains how it affected her.

I was trembling as I continued up the hill. The whole episode terrified me, and it was as if I could feel everything the poor victim had. First surprise as she was pushed down and sat on. Then there would have been fury as strong male hands fumbled at the buttons of her jeans. Then frustration as she fought to stop her jeans and panties coming down but was unable to do anything about it. Next there would be humiliation as her bottom was exposed, bare and pink in front of at least two men, maybe more and maybe other women. Then pain and worse humiliation as he set to work spanking her, stinging her flesh, making her bottom bounce and wobble, perhaps even making her cheeks open so that her anus and pussy showed. Finally he'd have left her sobbing on the carpet, feeling thoroughly sorry for herself with her bare, red bottom naked for everybody to see how she'd been punished.

Wonderful parallel sentence structure ending in a complimentary structure, like for a jazz blues passage. I very much get the sense that Penny masturbated as she wrote those lines. It's what I do when I write a particularly juicy passage myself. I go back and masturbate to it, and then tweak it a bit, and repeat. I can feel it in her work. Her emphasis on the humiliation, the public nature, the fact that her pussy and anus were likely on show. She came as she wrote that, naughty girl!

In the book, Penny's character also runs home to masturbate:

It had to have been punishment -- you don't do that to somebody for fun. Maybe it had been his girlfriend and she had cheated on him or something. I didn't know, but I did know that my pussy was hot and wet and that if I didn't get home quickly there was going to be a highly embarrassing wet patch at the crotch of my tight white cotton trousers.

[...]

My fingers were trembling and there was a lump in my throat all the way home. On the one hand I could barely believe that I could enjoy the thought of being punished, let alone so badly humiliated. I mean me, Natasha Linnet, who always went on top and never, ever, let a man call the shots for her! On the other hand there was no denying my wet crotch and stiff nipples, nor the other feelings of sexual arousal stronger than on some occasions when I've been to bed with a man.

It was no good; I was going to have to do it. Even though I hated myself for it, I was going to have to masturbate over the idea of a girl being spanked and I knew full well that when I came it would be myself who I was imagining with my panties down and bum red and sore. Well, not really hated myself, because I never do hate myself. I was certainly ashamed of myself though, but that just made it even more exciting.

I relate so much to all of that. As woman nowadays we are taught to be strong and resourceful, and this needing to be taken-in-hand and punished by a man is in such stark contrast to the lessons of independence we have absorbed. I like also how she plays with the notion of being ashamed of how she feels, and liking that feeling. I have that!

And then there's how she describes her frantic needs. When I first started feeling intense submissive feelings it was very much like this. I can't tell you how many times I masturbated to the thought of my upcoming paddle spanking from my friend Tracy. It's all documented in real-time as it unfolded and in living colour on my blog: Julie in for a Severe Paddling. It's been my most popular series of posts ever. It was highly interactive with all my readers getting their licks in too, much to my genuine embarrassment. It's fun going back and re-reading the whole sequence, including all the comments, re-living all those frenzied, intense first-time submissive feelings. I didn't write about it then, but you can tell from my writing that I wore out my fingers diddling my poor abused clit. One commenter caught the mood well:

TFD - 20 October 2016 at 19:11
This must be the most embarrassing scene you've ever posted. Because you're always so dominant and a head of the household type. The bigger we are, the harder we fall, don't you think? Acting so submissive to your Daddy. And I would love to see your face when it's time for that real paddle blistering on your delicate little bare bottom. Your heart racing, your stomach in knots. Strict Julie on the other side of strict. You should be one rosy-cheeked little girl, face blushing right now, cherry colored bottom cheeks coming soon.

A "before and after" picture was requested by multiple readers, and I complied:

I bring that out because it was so fresh and intense for me, and Penny's writing brings that back out. I still have all those same feelings, and that same intensity of feeling, but I think I process it a bit better now, which is a both a win and a loss. I think I can still pull it back up in my masturbation, my scenes, and my writing.

Penny's character culminated her masturbation session in much the way I do, and no doubt Penny herself in real-life, kneeling and looking at herself in the mirror in this case:

I came, screaming out my pleasure with my eyes locked on my naked bottom and wishing it was red and throbbing with the pain of my imagined spanking. I saw my vagina tighten as my muscles spasmed, pulsing as if to squeeze on the cock that might have been inside of me. My anus clenched too, bringing me the utterly filthy thought of having a cock up my bottom as I hit a second peak. The combined thought of being spanked and then sodomised took me to a third, and then I was slumping down on to my bed, happy but exhausted, only for a pure flush of shame to hit me even as I took the vibrator off my clitoris.

I am very familiar with those activities and that feeling of shame!

Natasha goes on to figure out how to get herself spanked for real.

For all that, fantasy is one thing, reality another, and the thought of actually surrendering myself for a spanking was completely horrifying. Yet with my eyes open to the possibility it was impossible not to think about it, and I started to wonder if any of the men I knew would like to do it to me. I quickly realised that the answer was probably yes, which in itself filled me with outrage.

So true. I know in my heart of hearts that most men I meet would like to have sex with me in some form. On one level it outrages me. On another it excites me. If I told them the price of admission was to first give me a good hard spanking, I would get very many spankings!

She makes an inventory of the various men she knows, including a number of dirty old men as she calls them:

[Then] there were my fellow wine-writers, and this was where the fantasy reached its true peak and also its most degrading depths. Several of them, mostly older men, clearly fancied me and would often perform little courtesies, indulge in minor intimacies or make half-joking sexual suggestions. I tolerated this and even used to flirt a little, but that was all, and I kept them firmly at arm's length. Among them were some pretty lecherous old goats, and I found it easy to imagine them thoroughly enjoying the idea of having me wriggling over their laps with my panties down and my bum bare for punishment. They were dirty old men, not like tramps or anything really disgusting, but at least in the sense that any older man who likes the idea of sex with a younger woman is a dirty old man, and I was sure they were far more likely to enjoy the thought of spanking girls than were the younger men.

She goes on to say that she masturbated intensely at this thought. I feel her so much. I also get turned on by the thought of being spanked and then being required to be sexually submissive to the kind of man I would never, ever consider as a sexual partner. Old, fat, out of shape, ugly. Just pulled across their lap, bared, spanked, and then orally and anally taken. Oh the exquisite shame!

She has various kinky experiences with a large collection of candidates, including some of her dirty old men, but is frustrated at not getting a proper spanking and is on a constant quest. That is basically the rest of the book, which provides a delicious backdrop for any number of amazingly kinky scenes.

At one point she passes a rough group and sees a woman in a short skirt leaning forward on a railing. She can see she has no panties.

That was shocking enough, but worse by far were the three broad red stripes that decorated her upper thighs and the tuck of her bottom. Somebody had taken a belt to her.

[...]

The girl had been given what I so badly wanted, and presumably by the great hulking brute of a lad who she had been kissing when I first saw them. The idea of what it must have felt like to be to be belted by him had me in an absolute lather, and I knew there was only one thing for it: back to the flat for another session with the vibrator.

This encounter clarifies for Natasha what she really wants.

The fantasy became even stronger after that -- a desperate need to be physically punished. My ideas of what I actually needed became clearer as well. A willing spanking across a boyfriend's lap would have been no good at all. Fun perhaps, but not nearly shameful enough to really hit the spot. It was essential that the person who did it was unaware that I was enjoying it and thought that he was either genuinely punishing me or that he had tricked me into accepting something that gave him sexual pleasure but which I thought was a punishment.

If this all seems rather complicated and demanding, then that's just the way I am. What's more I tend to get my way and so seldom feel the need to tone down my desires. That was the other thing I began to realize. I do nearly always get my own way. What I wanted was for someone to put me across their knee and give me a really good spanking, instead of allowing me to push them around.

Well that sounds familiar. I am the same way. I want what I want, and it's complicated, and I usually get what I want. No qualms.

Penny later on uses an interesting device of having Natasha lie to a friend she is trying to seduce about a fictional spanking experience. That way she can mix in an unlikely public scene without a suspension of disbelief, by having the person she is talking to believe her and be outraged by it.

She got her friend Charlotte into bed with her. Charlotte at one point removes Natasha's pants and panties and gasps at the sight of red belt stripes across her bum. The stripes were actually given her by Charlotte's preacher boyfriend, Evan, but Natasha does not want to let on. She describes the sex scene:

Charlotte wasn't a fitness teacher for nothing and quickly had me rolled up for my jeans and panties to be pulled off at her leisure. Down they came, Charlotte lifting my bottom easily and tugging the lot over my hips. Of course, as my thighs and the tuck of my bottom were exposed she got a prime view of the red welts Evan had put across me earlier.

I had meant to tell her that it had happened at the party the previous night but had got too carried away. Now it was all on show, along with my pussy and bumhole; Charlotte was staring open mouthed at my reddened buttocks.

That is so delicious! I too have a guilty, dirty thing for women. How amazing would it be to get a fit girl in bed with you and have her take charge as Charlotte does. But then everything stops dead in its tracks as she strips you and discovers your previously spanked bottom! In so few words Penny conjures the abject humiliation of being held up by your ankles as you squirm with your red welted bum, pussy, and bumhole all on display as she examines you.

Before Penny, I've never read an author who obsesses so over the point of how a poor girl's pussy and bumhole gets displayed. She never misses a chance. If you've read me, you know how this is also such a central theme during all of my spankings. The pulling of the panties down to the knees to offer a clear field of view. The being hiked up extra high and jacknifed over a leg so everything comes into view. The lewd dancing of pussy and bumhole for all the witnesses to see as the spanks are delivered. This turns me on so much, which I think is why I resonate so much with Penny's writing.

Natasha makes up on the spot a fiction of how her bottom became so reddened.

"What happened?" she asked, sounding shocked and still holding my legs up by my jeans and panties.

"Don't worry; I've just been spanked." I answered hastily.

"Spanked?" she echoed, her pretty mouth open in an O of disbelief at the revelation that someone had beaten me.

"Spanked," I confirmed, suddenly realizing that I had an opportunity to really build on my fantasy.

"Why?" she asked. "I mean, what happened?"

"One of the guys at the party did it," I explained, excited simply by the way she had first said "Why?" -- as if to imply that spanking my bare bottom was a reasonable thing to do as long as I deserved it.

"You let him?" she asked incredulously.

"He said I'd been naughty," I continued, ignoring her tone. "He said I was a brat because I'd flirted with him and then turned him down. He said I needed a spanking. Then he just did it. There was nothing I could do. He was really strong. He just pulled me down over his lap, in front of everyone. He twisted my arm behind my back. I was kicking and struggling but I couldn't get up. I was helpless. Then he pulled my dress up and showed them all my panties, calling out to everyone to come and watch what happened to naughty girls. They all started clapping as he took hold of my panties. I struggled like mad but he just twisted my arm harder. Then he took down my panties, really slowly. I couldn't stop him. It was so humiliating -- my bum stuck up bare in front of about twenty people, all laughing and clapping because I was about to be spanked. Imagine it, a bare bottom in front of all those leering eyes and the indignity of being punished on it while they all watched. He waited a bit while they all had a good stare. I'm sure they could see everything, my pussy, my bumhole, everything. Then he started to spank me with his hand. They clapped in time to the smacks. I tried not to make a fuss but I couldn't help it, it really stung. I started to kick my legs about, which  made them laugh even louder, especially the girls. Someone gave him a belt and he used that on me, which made me lose control completely. That was what made the marks, mostly. By the end I just didn't care anymore, my bottom hurt and I was crying with shame but all I could do was be there while they made a big joke of it."

"You enjoyed it didn't you?" she asked quietly.

I nodded. After all, from the way I had described it it was pretty obvious.

Charlotte goes on to rub cold cream leisurely into Natasha's bottom.

She carried on for what seemed an age, showing no impatience whatsoever but apparently happy to just caress my bottom, only pausing to add more cream. The fifth lot of cream was put on more liberally; a dollop of it landed in between my cheeks and ran slowly down to come to rest in the dimple of my bumhole, cold and moist against my sensitive anal skin.

Charlotte put her hand back to my cheeks, rubbing more firmly and pulling them open. I groaned in delight and lifted my bum still further, making my cheeks part in the hope of getting some attention to my pussy and anus. Charlotte giggled and climbed in between my legs, using her knees to push them apart and make an even more open display of my sex. I knew she was going to do it but still gasped when her creamy hand slid beneath me to cup my pussy mound. My clit was caught between her two middle fingers, which she moved like scissors, producing a sharp almost unbearably exciting sensation. Then her thumb was opening my vagina, sliding inside to fill me and draw a new moan of ecstasy from deep inside me.

"Touch my bumhole, too," I begged, knowing that I would come if she kept on playing with my clit and desperate for every part of me to be stimulated.

She seemed to hesitate but then I felt a finger squash down into the blob of cream on my bumhole. I reached back and pulled my slippery buttocks apart as she started to rub my anus, making little circles around the hole with her finger.

"Put it in," I pleaded as I felt the muscles of my sex give the first twinge of approaching orgasm.

Again she hesitated, and then her finger was opening my anus and sliding inside me even as she squeezed my clitty and pressed the flesh of my vulva between it and the thumb that was in my vagina. I could feel the cream in my bottom-hole and the heat of my clitty. My vagina was contracting around her thumb, my anus around her finger. My back was arched and my mouth open, my eyes shut as I came in one long, shuddering climax. I screamed, only to have my mouth blocked by Charlotte's as she came forward, her fingers slipping from my juice- and cream-soaked holes in her eagerness to kiss me as I came.

It's not all spanking, all the time, but it all ties in and is so exciting to read! I could tell reading this that it was a true experience being recounted, if in a different context, by Penny. How much shame she must have felt writing about what a greedy little whore she was, sticking her bum up, spreading her cheeks, begging to be fingered in her anus. A needy little slut. Like me...

There are many, many more exciting bits in "Brat", but I suppose I should stop there leaving you to want to buy the book for yourselves. Here's the amazon.com link:

Brat by Penny Birch

Kyle Not Guilty!

Yay! Kyle Rittenhouse, the Kenosha teen who shot three very bad, violent criminal, grown white men during the BLM riots in that town 14 months ago was found not guilty by virtue of self defence.

The facts were 100% clear, backed by video evidence, and the jury returned a unanimous verdict. There was no crime committed. But there's so much misinformation out there (still) about this case, that I'll describe it for you. I watched the whole case unfold on Rekeita Law livestream.

The background was that a black man named Jacob Blake was shot by police. Blake had a long criminal history, including illegal firearms possession, brandishing firearms, and resisting arrest. He had an outstanding warrant for his arrest and a restraining order from his ex-girlfriend whom he repeatedly raped.

Police were called by his ex-wife when Jacob broke into her house, and then wanted to make off with one of their children. Police attempted to put him into custody, tasering him twice, to no effect, and attempting to wrestle him into custody, to no effect. Blake disobeyed police instructions, went into the footwell of his girlfriend's SUV, pulled out a knife, and an officer shot him multiple times. The shooting was reviewed and the officer was cleared of any wrongdoing. The entire incident was caught on video. Blake is alive but in a wheelchair.

The left went wild and unjustly protested the shooting. Rioters from around the country, but especially Chicago, came into Kenosha to loot and riot. During three nights they terrorized the downtown, caused tens of millions of dollars of property damage, and burned down a big chunk of downtown. The left stayed mostly silent during this, and the leftist state Governor and mayor held police and fire back from intervening, and did not deploy the National Guard, allowing the city to burn.

Kyle Rittenhouse was a 17-year-old kid and a native of Kenosha, Wisonsin, living in a suburb of the town with his Mom that happened to be just across the state line in Antioch, Illinois. His Dad and grandparents lived in Kenosha and his Dad operated a business there. Kyle worked as a lifeguard there and considered it his hometown.

Kyle's friend kept a rifle paid for by Kyle in his Dad's gun safe in Wisconsin that they used for hunting and target practice.

After the second night of the riots, Kyle was filmed cleaning graffiti off the city with a number of other citizens during the day.

At night, an acquaintance organized a group of armed citizens to be present at a local used car business to deter vandals and arsonists. Kyle joined the group. Kyle was also trained in first aid (both as a lifeguard and as a cadet member of the fire department), and brought his medical kit with the intent of rendering first aid to anybody injured.

Kyle was interviewed earlier in the evening and clearly indicated his intent.

When asked about his rifle, he indicated it was for self-defense in case anybody attacked him as he was entering into harm's way. Later in the evening there is video evidence and eyewitness testimony that he was rendering first aid to random protesters. At no point did he brandish his firearm in a threatening fashion, or shoot it except directly to defend life-threatening attacks against him.

Later in the night, a white man, Joseph Rosenbaum, a multiply convicted child rapist released that same day from a mental institution and off his meds, took issue with Kyle when Kyle extinguished a fire he had set.

This man was found guilty of anally raping about a half-dozen young boys aged 6-11. This is one of the "victims" the left is currently defending. Unbelievable. Do you really think he was there as a "peaceful protester", setting "mainly peaceful fires", attacking children, all in the name of black rights? Yeah right.

Rosenbaum swore at Kyle and promised he would kill him if he got him alone. He had said he had been in jail and was not afraid to go back again. Soon after, Rosenbaum hid behind a car as Kyle passed him, jumped out from behind it, chased Kyle, cornered him, swore at him, and lunged for Kyle's gun. Immediately before that, another rioter had shot a pistol nearby. Kyle shot the child rapist Roosenbaum four times in 0.75s, killing him. All caught on video. Physical evidence shows Rosenbaum had his hands on the barrel of Kyle's gun as he was shot. Eye witnesses testified to all of this, including Rosenbaum's violently enraged mental state.

A mob began descending on Kyle and so he ran towards the police lines several blocks away to turn himself in. An unidentified rioter ran up behind him and hit him a glancing blow in the head with a rock in his hand. Kyle stumbled and fell. A different unidentified white man ran up to him as he was sitting in the street and jump-kicked Kyle in the head, spinning him around. Kyle shot at him but missed.

Another white man, Anthony Huber, a felon previously convicted of assault and battery, attempted to seriously injure or kill Kyle with a big skateboard to Kyle's head (he managed to hit him twice).

Then tried to wrestle Kyle's gun away from him. Kyle shot him once in the chest, killing him.

Another white man, a Marxist BLM organizer and convicted felon with an illegally possessed and concealed pistol, Gaige Grosskreutz, advanced on Kyle and pointed his Glock pistol at Kyle's head, whereupon Kyle shot him in the arm.

All of that happened within the space of 5 seconds. Had Kyle not defended himself, there is little doubt he would be dead, as were many others during the looting, rioting, and arson during that summer. His assailants were all grown men with violent criminal histories, attacking a 17-year-old boy.

Throughout the evening, Kyle threatened zero people with his rifle, maintained good gun safety (barrel pointed down, finger off trigger, safety on), and used his rifle only when he was on the very verge of being seriously injured. The surviving assailant Gaige Grosskreutz testified that when he momentarily stopped and put his hands up, Kyle did not shoot him, and only shot him when he again lunged forward and pointed his pistol at Kyle's head. The pistol was loaded with a bullet in the chamber. A friend  posted on Facebook that Grosskreutz told him he wished he had emptied the clip into Kyle's head.

Those are the facts presented to the jury. No laws were broken by Kyle, and he was accordingly found not guilty on all counts.

You may disagree with the laws that allow citizens to carry weapons and to defend themselves with them, and think it was not wise for a seventeen-year-old to put himself in harm's way. Those are some form of valid disagreement. You cannot disagree that no laws were broken. The evidence is clear.

Kyle was charged very soon after the incident with no meaningful investigation. It was clearly a political move. Even a cursory look at the copious evidence indicates there is no basis for a charge.

Joe Biden and countless other leftist politicians and mainstream media outlets defamed Kyle right after the incident, lying about the facts and labeling him a white supremacist, for which there is no evidence at all, despite extensive searches of Kyle's social media.

During the investigation, detectives had a search warrant for Gaige Grosskreutz's mobile, but for very flimsy reasons (that do not apply) did not serve it and did not get evidence from his phone. As well, the interview with Grosskreutz is, suspiciously, the only one not recorded.

The detectives and the DA's office intimidated a witness filming video, and attempted to get him to change his sworn statement after the fact.

The prosecution's case was rambling throughout the trial, with no clear direction. Their own witnesses were the best possible defense witnesses. They made numerous very serious legal errors, and were repeatedly chided by the judge. We suspect they were going for a mistrial as they were clearly losing so badly. This is prosecutorial misconduct of the highest order, with the life of a 17-year-old (at the time of the incident) on the line.

Very mysteriously, midway through the case it turned out that the FBI had been flying drones over Kenosha and had HD footage of the Rosenbaum shooting. The defense was inexplicably provided with a low-resolution version which was only discovered as the evidence was being presented. It was claimed by the prosecution that hyper zoomed in video (about 12-pixels high) shows Kyle raising his pistol before Rosenbaum closed on him, which they claimed was some sort of provocation. The defense objected to the evidence and called it that "Hocus Pocus Out-of-Focus" video.

Even after the just verdict came in, the leftist mainstream media and leftist politicians are still trying to misrepresent facts and smear the process. Disgraceful.

Thank goodness justice was done in this case. Kyle seems like a lovely young lad, civic minded and courageous to a fault. He has been suffering from pretty bad PTSD since the incident and we pray for his recovery. It melts my heart to see that poor child treated as he has been by these soulless leftist monsters. I hope he sues the pants off them!

Kyle and his Mom after the verdict

Spanked for not Spreading my Legs!

Yes, dammit! I got a spanking because I was not immediately in the mood to spread my legs to accept my husband's penis on demand. Then I made the mistake of saying a bad word and got punished for that, then he spanked me and then I no longer had the choice to spread my legs (as if I ever did!)

It was a long day with work. In the afternoon David asked me what we should do for dinner. I knew I was going to be too busy to whip anything up, so I suggested, "go out for dinner?" He agreed.

He found us a nice new restaurant for us, kind of Asian-fusion-style Tapas, and made a resi for 7. He came to get me at my desk at 6:15 (I was just finishing up a few last emails), and we headed out. Had a great dinner. It was all totally normie, no sex conversations at all.

Afterwards we got home and watched a show. I was falling asleep in front of the TV so we went to bed a bit early at around 10pm (the late nights had been catching up to me). Got all ready and got undressed and went to bed. He got into bed right after me and started snuggling. He kissed my lips and reached for my pussy. I pushed away and said, "I'm tired. Tomorrow, I promise."

99% of the time we are a totally normal couple. There is not this constant Sword of Damocles hanging over me or anything regarding my spanked wife status. Honestly, I was just not in the mood right then because I was tired, and just said so.

"Oh come on, all you have to is spread your legs and lie there..."

I could tell he was saying in a joking fashion that I did not have that much to do. If any of you guys think that, it's a total misconception. A woman's mind, body, and soul is 100% occupied during penetrative sex with her loving partner. It was incorrect and condescending to say I had no effort to put in while receiving him. My temper flared a little.

"Oh, fuck off," I told him.

As soon as it came out of my mouth, though, and I saw his darkening eyes, I knew it was over the line. And all of a sudden I remembered that I was a spanked wife. The normal rules don't apply to me. I was not allowed to say something like that. Not without being consequenced. My tummy got a little tight.

"Fuck off?" he asked me, incredulously, leaning up on one elbow and looking at me. There was no "joke" in his eyes.

I was instantly awake and feeling sheepish, acutely aware that things a normal wife could say or do did not apply to a spanked wife. I think my mouth just wrote a cheque my butt was going to have to cash. I got a little nervous, a little scared, and... (blush) a little aroused.

He got up out of bed with a sigh, and came around to my side. He was dressed in his boxers. He took the covers off me, took my arm in his hand and pulled me out of bed and guided me to the ensuite bathroom. I was completely naked. He put me in front of the sink on my knees, turned on the tap to lukewarm, and got a fresh bar of ivory soap out of the top cupboard. Oh no! A mouth soaping.

He picked up a washcloth and took his good time thoroughly soaping it up until it was completely covered with thick suds.

Mouth soaping is the "traditional" punishment for a girl with a dirty mouth, and boy did I ever deserve it. I knelt there nervously and submissively, squirming as he lathered up the washcloth more and more.

"Open," he told me.

I opened my mouth and he started scrubbing inside with the sudsy washcloth. He went all around my inner cheeks, the roof of my mouth, on and under my tongue, my teeth and gums. He went around and around, re-soaping the washcloth and going in again.

Oh Gawd it was nasty. I could see myself in the mirror. Thick white suds we're coming out of my mouth and dribbling down my chin and onto my bare breasts. My mouth was completely filled with suds, I almost gagged a couple of times.

"What happens to bad girls who use naughty words?" he asked me.

"Whey ge dey mouf waffed out wee soap." I said as best I could with my mouth filled up with suds.

He soaped the cloth again and then took it for another tour around my mouth, scrubbing thoroughly. It was going on and on. One little mistake. One little swear word that slipped out. And as a result here I was with a mouthful of nasty suds.

He finally stopped, held my chin making me look up at him, looked at me, and said, "You will NEVER use language like that towards me again. Do you understand?"

"Yef fir!" I said nodding my head up and down in his hand. I won't. I legitimately won't.

"Rinse, and then I'll give you your spanking."

I knew a spanking was inevitable, but to be told out loud like that brought it home. I was a minute away from going across his lap and having my bare butt ROASTED for what I knew would be 5-10 minutes of tearful, fiery hell.

I rinsed the nasty soap out of my mouth as best I could. But I learned that the nasty taste stays with you no matter how much you rinse. And honestly, I was nervous to go in for my spanking.

He lost patience with me, and with my mouth still tasting of soap he called me over to him.

I hurried over. He was seated on the side of the bed and pulled me across his lap. He started in spanking me with his hand. There was no "warmup", it was straight into "punishment grade" smacks to my rear. That first minute or so was soooo hard to take! I was kicking and squirming and crying out "I'm sorry!" Over and over again. He got my bum and thighs every bit as red as on our earlier spanking, but without any warmup, straight into it, and unrelentingly, it was much more a punishment.

I had told my husband to "fuck off". My mouth had been washed out with soap and now I was being given a thorough punishment spanking. I knew I deserved it all. A wife DOES NOT talk to her husband like that. Not a spanked wife anyways.

"Are you EVER going to say ANYTHING like that to me again?" he asked as he spanked. I could barely get the words out, but promised him, over and over, that I would not and that I was sorry!

I was not thinking it at the moment, but as I've written before there is something incredibly cathartic about being spanked for being a legitimately bad girl. A lot of pain in my rump, a lot of involuntary leg fluttering, a genuine feeling of contrition, and then my tears just flow and flow. It's a total regression to an innocent childhood state: being punished this way by a loving Daddy who cares enough about me to spank. And, all mixed up in this, not in the moment but all around it, it's just breathtakingly sexy to be dealt with so strictly like this, for the smallest thing, by your man.

He took me off his lap. I was crying and rubbing my rear end on my knees beside him.

"Would you like to spread your legs for me now, wife?"

"Yes Sir!" I said. I certainly did not want more spanking just then!

He stood and I got on the bed on my back with my tears still rolling down my cheeks. I spread my legs wide. He slipped his boxers off. He was very hard. He got saliva on his fingers and slapped them down onto my pussy.

"You're wet," he told me as his fingers penetrated me. "Reach down. Hold your cunt lips open as I fuck you."

He likes to feel my wet pinkness against him as he fucks me. I grabbed a pussy lip in between my thumb and forefinger of each hand and pulled apart.

"Wider, get that clit showing."

I kind of hooked my labia with my middle fingers and used my two index fingers to pull back my hood and expose my engorged clitoris. I pulled hard which totally spread my inner lips open as well. I wanted to do a good job for him and pulled like mad, until I was in pain.

He knelt between my legs, put his cocktip at the entrance to my vagina, and penetrated me deeply. It was all so fast, and I was still crying from my spanking.

"Keep them spread," he ordered me. I pulled my pussy open wider, painfully wide as he fucked me. I got a bunch of thrusts into me like this and then he changed it up.

"Hands above your head," he ordered me.

I released my pussy and put my hands above my head and he grabbed both my hands in one of his. He put his other hand on my tit and mashed it roughly as he continued my wife-fucking.

I struggled weakly agains his grasp, writhing my hips against his pelvis, and softly saying "no...".

"Take it," he ordered me.

He mauled my tit and twisted my nipples until my eyes watered. He switched hands and punished my other tit the same way. All the while my hands were pinned above my head and his hips were driving his cock painfully deep into me.

This pic captures the feeling, but there are no pics of girls having
their two hands pinned above their heads by their men with
a tit mauling during their fuckings - well have to make one 😊

"No, no, no," I said as I struggled.

Now, I know that "no" means "no", except when you have a longstanding agreement that "red" means "no", and "no" is just me expressing myself. Saying "no" allows me to go deeper into my mind-fuck.

"We fuck when I say we fuck," he said.

"Yes Sir!"

"When... I... Say..." and he shuddered, ejaculating deeply into me. "Go dry your eyes and clean yourself up. No orgasm for you tonight."

Oh no. I didn't expect it after misbehaving as I did. But I was fucked horny. I would have to go to sleep in that state. I knew that I would be masturbating next day as I wrote this up [editors note: already done].

"Yes Sir. May I rinse my mouth more and brush my teeth again?" I thought it best to ask permission.

He considered that for a moment. "You may."

I went to the bathroom, peed, and used toilet paper to clean myself out. I took a tissue, dried my eyes and blew my nose. I stood at the sink, rinsed my mouth and brushed my teeth. I went back to bed and snuggled into David's arms. I was still shaking a bit and riding an endorphin high from the way I was spanked and roughly handled. Despite it all, I respected that he would not put up with any shit from me. I asked to be treated like this, and he delivers.

"I'm sorry for swearing at you. I deserved to get my mouth washed out. And I'm sorry for not spreading my legs the first time you told me to. I deserved that spanking, and the... the rough fucking."

"Are you still ok with our arrangement?"

"Yes Sir. Thank you for holding me to your standards and for being so strict with me."

"Your pussy was very wet after your spanking."

"Yes Sir. It... excites me... when you take me in hand like that."

"Good. It excites me too. How was the mouth soaping?"

"Horrid," I said with a pout.

"What will happen to you if you use language like that again towards me?"

"Another mouth soaping?"

"And?"

"And a spanking Sir."

"And, for a second offence, before going across my knee you'll bend over for twelve hard strokes of the big paddle while you hold the bar of soap in your mouth."

"Ohhhh... yes sir." I DO NOT want that. Not that I meant to this time, but that made up my mind then and there that there was no way would I even consider using swear words as a incitement.

"And what will happen if you don't spread your legs for me when I tell you to?"

"A spanking."

"And?"

"And I'll have to spread my legs for you anyways, it'll be really rough, and I won't get to have an orgasm."

"How's your pussy?"

"Sore and chafed, Sir."

"And your breasts?"

"A bit bruised, Sir."

"Next time I tell you we're having sex, or if you initiate, I want you to beg me for it up your bum."

"Ohhhhh..."

"It's part of your punishment. If you forget, or don't ask or take it eagerly enough, I'll wear your behind out with the strap. No joke. I want you to obey, not angle for a spanking."

Oh no. If I want sex, even a pussy licking, I'll have to get ass-fucked first! Even if he asks, "would you like your pussy licked?" I'll have to say, "Yes, Sir, but I really want it up my ass first...", and then I'll have to take THAT before having my lady parts properly licked. Oh dear. It's already a few days later and we have not had sex yet. And I'm getting very horny for his tongue. So I think he's waiting for me to go to him and ask, "please Sir, would you fuck me in the ass?" But I don't want that! Wahhhh! 😭 😭😭

What do you guys think? Was he too strict with me? What are your thoughts on fucking a crying wife? I wasn't so sure about that... but I'm not faulting him for it. I can change things up a bit and he'll adjust. I don't know... don't want to top from the bottom...