“Yes. Thank you, sir.” I draw in a deep breath as he goes to work on my upturned bottom, showering hard, rapid slaps over every inch of my buttocks and thighs. The first time he did this, I hated it. Now, it’s foreplay, arousing and sensual but just the prelude for what’s to come. I rock from side to side as the tension starts to drain from my body, my clit throbbing in an insistent, pulsing demand for release, despite my recent orgasm. I don’t dare ask them to let me come again. Not yet.
I’m sinking into the familiar submissive haze ofcontentment when Ewan slows his spanks down.
“Wake up, Charity. I’m starting to think you may not be paying proper attention.” He emphasises his point with a hard slap across my pussy.
“Aagh! Sir, I wasn’t expecting that.” The complaint dies on my lips as Ewan parts my smarting buttocks and inserts a cold butt plug into my arse. It’s well-oiled and slips in fairly readily, despite any lack of direct preparation. He pulls it back out, almost to the tip, then shoves it back in hard.
It feels glorious. Decadent. Quite wicked and deliciously naughty as both doms have an unimpeded view of my arse accepting this intrusion, and my obvious relish for it. Ewan slides the plug back into place until my muscle tightens around the narrow rim to hold it inside me.
“That’ll do for now. Try to relax your muscles and it won’t feel too uncomfortable. Not easy, when you’re being spanked, but I’m sure you’ll manage.” Ewan pauses, then, “David? After you…”
I jerk forward as the first stroke of David’s paddle lands across my right buttock. I barely have time to register it before the second stroke connects with my left cheek, just an instant later. Then the third, then the fourth. Both doms are working in perfect synchronisation to build and maintain a steady, fast tempo. My bottom is ablaze with the searing heat of it, radiating across the already sensitive flesh. By the eighth stroke I start to whimper. I’m trying not to clench down on the butt plug but failing utterly.
They direct their attention to the backs of my thighs, my sit spots. I know I won’t be sitting in any sort of comfort for several days. My fingers latch onto the bedpost, my grip deathlike. This lump of wood is all that prevents me from crumpling to the floor in a heap.
By the time I reach a count of twenty I know I’ll be calling a halt soon. I’ve accepted more than this in the past, but it’s never been so intense. The succession of spankshas never been so rapid, so unrelenting. I can hardly differentiate between the distinct blows raining down on both cheeks of my arse almost simultaneously. All I know is it hurts, and it’s wonderful. And completely terrifying. Who would ever have imagined I could do this? That I could actually want to do this?
The sensation grows, the spanking becoming more deliberate, more focused, building, reaching a crescendo where I know I have to stop it. It’s too much. I open my mouth, only to hear Ewan’s voice.
“Enough.”
The onslaught stops. The sound of silicone slapping against flesh dies, and the only sound in the room is that of my frenzied sobs as I cling to my lifeline, the bedpost. Ewan prises my stiff fingers apart and helps me to straighten before lifting me onto the bed. He lays me on my side, then crouches beside it to kiss me. I reach for him, my palm caressing his cheek where a light sprinkle of stubble is just becoming evident.
“I didn’t say you should stop.”
“You were about to.”
“How do you always know?” At times he seems to be right inside my head, knowing what I’m thinking even before I do.
Ewan smiles. “He taught me well.” He nods in the direction of David, who is laying both discarded paddles on the top of the chest.
I close my eyes. “He did. He surely did.”
* * *
“Okay, that’s the warm-up out of the way. Would you agree your appetite’s nicely whetted, girl?”
I’m lying across the bed as Ewan massages my still tender nipples. My bum is pleasantly sore too, but as longas I remain still that’s fine. Ewan is stretched out next to me, still fully dressed. David is out of my line of sight, though I am aware of his movements behind me—the rustle of fabric, the soft sweep of clothes hitting the floor. He is undressing.
Ewan leans over to kiss me, his lips warm across mine. The kiss is deep, possessing, Ewan’s tongue exploring every space, tasting me. He rolls onto his back, dragging me over on top of him. Now I become the aggressor, though I know this won’t last. For a few moments though I can comb my fingers through his hair, angle my mouth over his. Our tongues tangle together in a crazy, slick dance.
My breasts are pressing against the smooth fabric of his T shirt. My legs, still clad in sheer stockings held up by a garter belt, slide across his denims as I straddle him. The bed dips as David re-joins us.
Ewan breaks the kiss, smoothing my tangled hair from my face. “I need to get undressed, love. David’ll take care of you.”
Before I can ask what he means, he lifts me bodily from him and passes me across the bed. I find myself in David’s arms, the older dom’s lips nuzzling my neck, his hands caressing my sore bottom.
“Is this okay, Charity? Where would you like me to touch you?”
“Everywhere.” I glance across at Ewan, seeking belated permission. He’s the one issuing the instructions here, not me.
His expression reassures me. Here, in this room, now, I belong to both doms. Not equally, that’s been made clear. But David does get to touch me, and I do get to like it.
I’m draped across him, and for an older man he’s in remarkable shape. His chest may not be as solid as Ewan’s, but he’s firm, lean, his muscles are finely honed. His fingers are gentle on my bottom, his touch knowing. The pain is fairly evenly distributed, but there are spots wherethe pain is more severe. David finds those spots, traces the pattern left by the welts.
I turn my head to catch sight of my reflection in the mirrored wall. My bum is glowing, bright crimson. David’s fingertips leave white trails across my cheeks, which disappear almost immediately. I can just see the finger grip of the butt plug emerging from between my buttocks. It’s a bright purple colour, clashing with the hue of my beaten skin in a bizarre psychedelic contrast.Yellow would have been a better match. The useless, irrelevant thought flutters away.
I bury my nose against David’s shoulder, and I purr.
