Our real BDSM wedding-night: the drama (one of the spanking stories)

(I don't usually do this, but this one works best if you begin at the beginning, here. Then read this, this, this, this, and this--and then come back for the finale! I realize it's vain, but this post is the end of a sequence, and I want you, dear reader, to have all the hotness.)

"Get that ass up, girl," my husband said, in his most dominant tone, the voice that seems to work a wire running straight from my ears to my pussy. Of course, tied as I was, I couldn't obey him the way I usually did in bed at home, but that was the point--my master was giving me a command he knew I couldn't obey. He yanked my hips up, roughly, and rearranged the pillows under me, to get my bottom to the angle at which he liked to fuck it. "Don't you dare rub that slutty cunt against these pillows, wife," he growled. "Don't think that there won't be time between your butt-fuckings for some good old-fashioned domestic discipline, if you need it." . . .

For more about the "real" me, read the Companion! You'll find the rest of this post (and it's hot, I promise!) there.