The punishment for sharing without permission.

He walked in, finding her nude on the bed, he legs separated - the electronic "click click" of a the shutter on the camera going off every few seconds as she held the phone with one hand, spreading her lips with the other, trying to find just the right angle for just the right shot.

He cleared his throat.

She dropped the phone.

"And, um, what do you think you're doing?"

"Nothing," she replied, blindly pressing buttons on her phone as he walked over to her. "I was just taking some pictures for you. You surprised me by being home so early!" She put on her best smile as she continued fumbling with buttons on the phone, never looking at what she was doing.

"Careful, darlin'," he smirked, looking down, "it looks like you're about to text that to your mother."

"Mother fucker," she yelled, looking down at the phone in her hand, and, once she broke eye contact with him, he went into motion. With his left hand, in an unforgiving grip, he grabbed her by the hair, close to the scalp. She dropped the phone.

"Who were these pics for?" he asked, a note of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, you know," she answered, breathing in deeply to try to manage the pain, "just for fun."

"Then, I guess, this will just be for fun," he said, leaning close, and then adding, in barely more than a whisper, "when I let go, I want you to get up and get yourself a blindfold. Be quick about it." And with that, he let go. She sprang to her feet, tripping over herself as she worked to the cabinet, pulling out toy after toy, looking for a blindfold. As she searched, he kicked the phone under the bed, never bothering to look as to who she was sending what.

She returned and sat on the bed, handing him the blindfold - he placed it over her eyes. Then, in what she saw as a peculiar move, he wrapped and tied the hankerchief from his suit around her head. The blindfold was an effective enough, well, blindfold. "Daddy?" she asked.

"Just to protect you, my darlin'" he replied.

And then a minute or two passed, where she heard little more than a click & a bump, but he was soon next to her, seated on the bed, his left hand, again, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back. She breathed in, sharply, as her nipples started to stiffen when she thought about what her punishment might be.

He lifted his hand, and she rose to her feet - and, almost too eagerly, fell across his lap as soon as he made his intention clear. She felt the wool of his suit trousers scratch against her skin, and wiggled, just a little bit. And that little wiggle was all she needed to get his cock to press against her ribs.

Holding her head back by the hair, he spanked, not starting with the "warm-up" smacks that always marked the beginning of a punishment session in the early relationship, but with the "I can spank harder, but I'll really have to put something behind it," smacks that always made her yelp.

And yelp she did.

Her legs bent up as she tried to get her feet over her ass to serve as a shield for the blows. Her hands moved to the hand holding her hair, seeing if she could redirect him, or do something to stop the onslaught. But, it continued. He spanked, never growing harder or weaker, but continuing a steady barrage. She gave up using her feet as a shield and both of her feet met firm ground as she pressed against it, tensing all of the muscles of her lower body, but his spanks continued, making her ass red.

And then, in a moment of ecstasy, she let herself go.

Her legs relaxed and parted, slightly. She thrust her hips, not in avoidance, but to meet his metronome-steady blows. She still cried out, but now moans filled the space between each swat.

He altered his angle of attack, just the slightest bit, so that his finger tips ended each smack against her sex, the resulting sound could only be described as "*smack*squish." Well, the sound of the spank sounded like that - she yelped once the first blow landed.

But, she separated her legs further, and prepared for the continued punishment. She was not disappointed.

One turned to two, turned to ten, turned to "holy fuck, this hurts," turned to tears. With her first sob, he stopped.

 

She caught her breath at the lack of a spanking, and then thought -- without the power of sight, she had no idea what her ass looked like. But, when she took inventory of what hurt, where, she knew her left cheek had to be bright red, possibly approaching purple. Her right cheek wasn't quite as sore - when she opened her pussy to him, he grew . . . she wanted to use the word "distracted" in her mind, but that wasn't right. "Focused" worked here. He grew focused on finding just the right spot.

In her mind, at least, he had done just that.

And, with her mental inventory of her own ass done, she took the time to feel the cock pressing against her ribs. Again, she wriggled, trying to jerk it off with her body, through his pants before she realized that her hands were unbound . . . she wasn't forced to hold his arm as he pulled her hair - she had just chosen to do so. So she reached around and started to run her fingers up & down his thigh.

He responded by pulling her hair tighter, and she stopped.

"On your knees, lil' darlin'," he let out, in his fake southern drawl, which she never found the heart to criticize, though it sounded more Russian than "southern." She hopped on the bed, trying to turn to face him, certain that "her dessert" must be what awaited her. But, she was mistaken. After a minute, she felt silk against her wrist, and then her left wrist was tied to her left ankle with what must have been his tie.

She heard him rummage through his closet and then, quickly, her right wrist was bound to her right ankle in a similar-feeling material.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful," he whispered before running his fingers, lightly over the front of her body. She relaxed, for she was fearing something sinister, and goosebumps traveled from her navel to her collarbone. But then, he pinched.

First, it was her left nipple, and she threw her head back as she squeaked -- yes, there is no word to describe what uttered from her but "squeak."

"I like to turn things to eleven," he commented, the smile apparent in his voice, as she breathed quick, short breaths, trying to manage the sudden intrusion to her left breast. As soon as she thought she might have had the pain under control, there was a slight whistling, and one of his hands smacked the other, making contact at her tit. She felt the welt immediately, and her breathing deepened as her legs spread, ever-so-slightly.

A heartbeat passed, and then she felt her right breast, with a follow-through to her left, before his backhand smacked her left, then right. Before she could catch her breath, he followed up with the other hand, left-right-right-left, her breasts nearly touching each other, right before his hand smacked the next mound.

After half-a-dozen or so exchanges, she arched her back, welcoming the pain.

And that was his cue.

He took his time, taking off the suit. She heard his closet door open, and a hanger being removed. She heard his fly being undone. She heard him hang up what must be his pants, then his shirt. Then she felt his hands in her hair.

He gripped her head, by her hair, with one hand at either side of her head, from behind, as he pushed her forward, the hankerchief sprawling to the bed. When he pulled her back, he entered her, fully -- in just the way that, had she not been an absolute swamp "below the belt," would have been agony. But this? This was heaven.

He never moved his pelvis, but forced her to take his length by pulling & pushing her by her hair. Her orgasms mounted quickly, and came in rapid succession. Her hips bucked - and every time they did, he moved things slightly slower, but more violently.

She knew he was going to blow his load before he did -- little did he know that there was a little gasp that he released once he reached that "point of no return." If she were to ever turn the tables on him, that was the giveaway, but, for now, she was just enjoying things far too much.

One last of her orgasms mounted when she felt him release into her. As he climaxed, he pulled her hair back, pulling out no small number of strands, as he spasmed into her.

One minute passed.

Two minutes passed.

His sweat fell, in drops, onto her back.

He collapsed onto her, his body weight pressing her down against the bed. She relished the feeling of him against her.

He whispered into her ear as he reached toward the ties the bound her before he re-tied the hankerchief over her sex hair.

As soon as she was free, she stood, walking toward the bookshelf, the blindfold covering her eyes. She reached out, finding the shelf, and knocking the webcam only the tiniest bit as she positioned it. With two fingers, she reached deep inside of herself, gathering his seed, and then she knelt down in front of the cam.

Her fingers went into her mouth, and she licked them clean, before turning the webcam away.

He quickly showed up behind her, wrapping her in an embrace. "Quick, upload it," he said. "If you can tell me the first person to respond that he came to watching that, I'll give you a month of sending whatever you want to whomever you want.

She guessed that it would be Chris. Because she knew that Chris would be abroad for, at least, a month, with minimal access to a computer.