Christmas Day Spanking

I watched Master tear paper off his last gift. He’d already opened aftershave balm in his favorite scent. Socks. T-shirts. This last one was a tie. Oh, the things Master did with his ties.

I’d hoped focusing on him, my disappointment would dissipate. It didn’t.

The gift bag in my lap was plain next to the glitter of red and silver paper I wrapped his gifts in. It didn’t matter black was the color Master preferred. “It’s Christmas.”

I stared at the gift I’d yet to pull from the bag. I didn’t need to. There wasn’t tissue paper to conceal it. I guess it was tradition, but I’d hoped for something personal, significant.

We’d talked about it. He brought the subject up. Had asked. My gaze strayed to the tree, hoping I’d overlooked a present. Empty. It looked as forlorn as I felt.

“What did you say, sub?”

“Couldn’t you find a Christmas gift bag?” The words popped out. At least I hadn’t blurted out the rest.

“Black is elegant.”

I shook my head. I had to let go of the hurt and anger.

“How do you like your present?”

“I don’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s not for me.”

“I assure you, I didn’t get it for anyone else.”

“It’s not”— What could I say. It’s toys. Albeit unique and definitely cost more than $9.99, but— “a sign of your affection.”

“I’m quite fond of your ass.”

I bristled at his comment. I shoved the bag off my lap, ignoring him and his attempt at humor. I grabbed wrapping paper, moving around Master picking up more paper, and crumpling them into small balls.

I felt the weight of his stare. I should look at him. Acknowledge him in some way, give him a bright smile. I couldn’t.

Turning, I rushed out of the room, making my way to the kitchen. Throwing the paper in the trash, I checked the turkey, jerked open the fridge, and grabbed butter for the rice casserole. I may have slammed the door shut. It didn’t help. Sweet potatoes and cornbread dressing sat atop the stove needing to be cooked. I looked at the time. I had another hour before they went in.

I wiped the table and counter. Added our breakfast plates and utensils to the dishwasher. Searching, the room there wasn’t another thing to do. I placed my hands on the countertop and stared out the window. Coffee. I needed coffee, but my cup was in the living room. I could either let go of my anger and go get it or pull a clean one from the cabinet.

“Sub, get in here.”

He didn’t sound pleased. Of course, he wasn’t. I was ruining Christmas. Taking a deep breath, I made my way back to the living room. I stopped just past the doorway. Seeing him standing by the couch, my present in his hand, the look of expectation on his face, I lost it.

“How can you think that’s a nice Christmas present?” I stomped closer, flipping my left hand in a wild gesture. “Yes, it was the first gift you gave me. And you’ve given me one every Christmas. But after all your talk of jewelry or a new day collar, you give me a damn butt plug?”

Master’s playful expression hardened. “Five.”

Five swats. Shut up now. I didn’t. “It’s true.” I glared at him. “I’m just a sex object to you. A body to make you money. Every gift you’ve ever given me is work-related. So I can make more money for you.”

He moved toward me.

I stepped back.

“Don’t you move another inch.” Master’s tone was often formidable during playtime. At this moment, it was downright frightening. It seemed like hours before he continued toward me. Every instinct, even before he took a step, screamed run.

I didn’t.

“Take off your dress.”

I stood there debating whether to obey. I knew I would in the end, but I wasn’t ready to be a good sub.

“Last week I had to punish you for not doing your job. Now—”

“I more than made up for it this week.” I shot back. “I’ve seen men every day. Several a day. Had phone sex every night, and four video chats. I went to three office parties yesterday, including the one last night. I certainly sealed the deal with your investors.”

“None of it excuses your outbursts.”

I’d been used all week. I loved it. The euphoria of being the center of men’s attention had worn off, though. He was right. My shoulders slumped. There was no reason to fight Master. “Yes, Sir,” I whispered, avoiding his gaze, and pulled the dress over my head. I folded it and handed it to him.

“Lean over the arm of the couch.”

I stepped around Master and did as instructed.

“Spread your legs apart.”

I did. I’d expected a quick but painful spanking. Cool lube running down my crack was a shock. Nope, nothing short about this punishment. The butt plug was just as cold. I’d gotten a good look at it when I walked into the room. It was about six inches long and the glass shaft was shaped like graduated beads.

“Relax.” Master’s hand moved up and down my back. “Push back.”

It didn’t take long for the plug to slide all the way in.

“Go to your room. Do not lose the plug. Lean over the end of the bed.”

“Yes, Sir.” I’d ruined Christmas day. That defiant voice in my head asked why hadn’t it been Master who’d messed it up. Because he hadn’t thrown a fit.

I lay there trying not to worry, wondering how long he’d take. What other punishment I’d receive. His presence filled the room. I tensed. The butt plug was long enough it hit my erogenous zone the moment Master seated it. Stupid body.

Without saying a word to me, he moved to the bed, took my wrists, tying them together. He secured the other end of the rope to the headboard. He pulled a tie from his pocket. This wouldn’t be just a spanking. Within seconds I was in the dark. And the plug was meant to increase my need to come with each blow. Master didn’t have to say the words, but he did.

“Twenty swats. Spread your legs wide.” His foot tapped my inner right ankle, and I moved to the position he wanted. “Don’t lose the plug, and you are not allowed to come.”

He tapped the end of the butt plug. My wet pussy gushed. Master chuckled, then caught himself with a cough.

The first blow landed with a sharp slap. The butt plug pressed inward, and I shrieked. “Sir.”

“I know. If you’d behaved by the end of your spanking you’d be allowed to come all over my cock. Because you couldn’t, though, you’ll suffer through the spanking without one.” He peppered my ass with swats as he spoke. Three, four, and five.

My breath hitched, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. Tears ran down my cheeks. I thought last week had been painful. They didn’t even come close.

“Sir, Sir, Sir,” I begged as he hit each cheek, then right in the middle, and lower almost cupping my pussy.

“Be quiet and take your punishment.”

The sound of his hand hitting my ass ricocheted around the room. My skin was on fire. The butt plug kept hitting that sweet spot. I arched upward, begging and pleading.

“Not another word,” he said, stopping. You have seven more to go. I don’t want to hear anything louder than muffled crying, do you understand me, sub?”

“Y-yes, S-sir.” I pressed my face into the bedspread and waited for Master to finish.

His hand met my bottom. Slow and methodical. Hard slaps, pressing his hand into my heated butt cheeks, sliding it off, raring back, pausing, and then spanking me in the same spot.

My spanking ended with one last slap.

Master didn’t speak as he untied me. He removed the butt plug, went to the bathroom, cleaned it, came back with lidocaine, and put it on my bottom.

“Go clean yourself up and put your dress on. Punishment is over. Let’s enjoy the rest of Christmas.”

“Yes, Sir.”

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