Pt 6. Miss-Behaving

Camus' words make the last bit of her resistance melt. Tears roll, completely unbidden, down her cheeks. She wants it. She needs it and from him.

"Color?" he says, quietly in her ear, wanting to make sure her tears aren't a sign of it all being too much. He also knows that tears can be cathartic as well.

"Green Sir, please green," she begs. She refuses to back down now.

"Alright honey, let's talk about everything you did, everything you need punished for. Understand?" His voice is both strict and tender.

She nods vigorously and adds 'Sir' to the end. He presses two fingers inside her without warning.

"Good girl," he purrs, flicking his digits toward her pubis.

A desperate sob rushes from her as he stimulates both her reward and pleasure centers in her brain and body. It pushes her just that much further down the subby road.

He pulls his fingers out, making a show of licking them off and humming in delight.

"You are gonna say, 'I'm sorry Sir, I was a naughty brat,' after each time I spank you, do you understand?" his voice is calm and reassuring, even as his pulse jumps.

Again she nods and says 'Sir'.

"Say it honey," his voice is laced with soft warning.

"I understand Sir," she whispers.

"No," SMACK, "so I can hear you." The folded leather cracks loud.

She repeats louder. He rubs her ass gently, knowing the belt can be intense.

"Let's see, you left me hanging all week," he brings the belt down sharp on her ass, knowing she's plenty warm to take it.

"I'm sorry Sir, I was a naughty brat," her words are loud enough but shaky.

"You didn't stay in your seat in the theater when I told you to do so." Smack!

"I'm sorry Sir, I was a naughty brat," the words grit through her teeth, the distinct sound of the belt's crack beginning to worm its way into her brain.

"You didn't take your panties off when I told you," CRACK!

"I'm sorry Sir, I was a naughty brat."

"You were rude to Jeff, the usher. That earns you two. I will not tolerate rudeness to other people." CRACK! SMACK! Those two are the hardest yet.

Mel squeals and jerks on the ottoman, tears stream down her face.

"I'm sorry Sir, I was a naughty brat!" she sobs.

He takes a moment to soothe her hot skin, planting soft kisses on her cheeks. She is overwhelmed by the gentleness, more so than the strikes.

"You didn't even bother to say hello, and that's just general politeness," SLAP.

"I'm sorry Sir, I was a naughty brat," she never thought she would be grateful for a less painful impact, but here we are.

"You were terribly rude and demanding to me." Smack! Smack!

"I'm sorry Sir, I was a naughty brat," it's becoming a mantra now.

He wants to say 'you made me wait so long to bend you over my knee' but he kinda liked the cat and mouse game they had been playing. He settles on:

"You were insolent in the cab." Smack!

"I'm sorry Sir, I was a naughty brat," her ass on fire.

"Color?" His hand is cool on her ass, as if he is rubbing in the words as she speaks.

"Y-yellow Sir" she is hesitant, but remembers him saying it's her job to tell him where she is at, that he can't read her mind.

The belt falls to the floor and he's pulling her to sit in between his long bare legs on the couch. When did he take his jeans off? Her scalding ass hits the cool leather and she lets out a sob of relief.

"Shhhh, it's ok darling, I believe you," his arms wrap around her, "I believe you are sorry." He gives her a few minutes to breathe and recover.

"You took your punishment so well," he whispers in her ear, "and your ass is so pretty right now," he drags his fingers down her sternum, between her breasts. "I'm so proud of you," he strokes the skin lightly on her belly and under her breasts.

The praise and gentle touches go far to calm her, to bring her back from that floaty place. Reminding her that she has a body to come back to. He makes her sip from a bottle of water.

"Do you want to be a good girl now?" he asks low in her ear, fingers playing gently under her nipples.

"Yes Sir, yes," she arches into his nipple play.

His touch is tantalizing. His hand slides down between her legs to tease her lips.

"Good girls get orgasms. Is that what you want?" his voice is honeyed whiskey.

"Yes please, please Sir please," the words stream out of her.

"Look at you, begging so pretty. You more than earned your first orgasm, darling. Tell me what color."

"Green sir, please, please," she has no higher thought right now, just need.

"Alright little Missy," he chuckles low, "but you have to ask for permission to cum, understand."

"Yes sir," the response is now automatic.

"Ok, here we go." His voice registers soft and deep. His hands slide between her legs, pulling them wide, up over his own. His hardness nestles perfectly in the dip of her spine. She is so exposed and vulnerable, her wet lips pulling apart. He brushes them with his fingertips. She moans.

"Tell me you are a good girl," he purrs in her ear.

"I- I'm," the words seem strange after admitting to being bad. Can she be both?

"Come on darling, say 'I'm a good girl'," his touch barely teasing her.

"I'm a good girl, Sir" she repeats. Her voice is so soft he can hardly hear her.

His long, deft fingers on one hand pull up the arch of her mons, stretching her outer labia deliciously and exposing her clit. The soft pads of his other fingers dip into her wet entrance, pulling moisture out and up. He draws slow circles and figure-eights around her clit.

Her moan shudders down her stomach and shakes her legs.

"What kind of girl?"

"Good Sir, I'm a good girl," she's louder this time, her fingers grip the edge of the cushions.

"Yes, you are."

The sound waves of his sexy voice seem to penetrate directly to her limbic system as his fingers artfully play with her blood engorged pussy.

He picks up the pace, changing direction and pressure. Two fingers slide on either side of her clit, massaging her little nub from the sides. It's like hitting a joy button, her back arches and the wordless moans fall from her mouth. He switches from milking her clit to rubbing it, and back again.

"Remember to ask," he reminds her, "or I'll have to punish you more."

It doesn't take but three minutes and her body starts to tense.

"Can I cum, can I cum, can I cum! Please sir, please!!" the words burst from her. Way in the back of her brain, that part that throws up defenses and pushes men away is having a fit. That girl can't believe those words came out of her mouth.

"Say it," he growls in her ear.

"Brat naughty good, sorry, please cum SIR!" All the words he's made her say come out in a jumble. She is already tipping over the edge.

"Not until you tell me," his fingers marginally slow, drawing out the sensation. It's insane, being on the razor's edge but not split open.

"I'm a good girl! PLEASE!"

"There's my girl," he chuckles, not even realizing the possessive pronoun. "Cum."

She doesn't notice either, because at that one word, pleasure fountains through her body. It roars from her chest. She jerks in his lap, toes curling, fingernails leaving scratch marks on the leather cushions. His grip on her tightens to keep her from toppling off his lap. He has to duck her flailing head in order to save his nose.

"There you go, good girl," he praises her through teeth clenched with the effort of holding her.

His hand, now trapped between her closed legs, cups her mons, adding pressure from his palm. It's a strangely comforting thing to her. Makes her feel safe, like he isn't gonna leave her with all her nerve endings raw and sparking.

Once her breathing calms a bit, Camus begins tracing lines up and down her torso.

"Was that good, darling? What you needed?" His words are gentle and soft.

"Oh wow, fuck yeah," her head is lolled back onto his shoulder.

"Tch, tch," his tongue clicks again in her ear, "You think we're done, don't you."

"N-no? Sir?" In her euphoria, she had definitely thought they were done.

He presses his still hard cock into her back, "No, not by a long shot. In fact, you forgot Sir there."

"What? No, Sir I said it, Sir," she is trying to make her blissed out brain cooperate.

"Saying it twice now doesn't make up for it then honey."

She whines in the back of her throat, not sure if she can take more and wanting it all the same.

"I'll give you a choice though, you can pick four good hard ones, or two minutes straight of not as hard ones."

She bites her lip mulling it over. On one hand it'd be over quickly but probably more painful, on the other it'd be drawn out which could be good or bad. She doesn't know what 'not as hard' actually means. Her mind goes back to the dressing room and his glancing blows that felt so damn good.

"Two minutes, please Sir," the words falling past her lips before she realizes she had decided.

"Alright," his hand draws a line up and over her shoulder to her neck. He hooks his fingertips around the back and pushes her head down to the side while twisting her torso. "Over my lap, stick that ass up."

He's glad she misbehaved again, he could do this for hours, though his cock protests needily.

She's prone, draped over his thighs. It's so much like last week, she's already excited for it, despite the warm glow her ass has already. She hears his watch beep and the first slaps start. They are measured and as promised not as hard. They start out so near to those magic slaps she nearly sobs with pleasure. Then the heat builds as he continues striking her on the same spot over and over and over.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

His repeated blows make the sensations build in intensity, even if the actual strikes don't. By the time his watch beeps she is starting to tuck her pelvis in an effort to get away from his hand. She starts a sigh of relief that turns into a squeal of surprise as he starts in on the other side.

One minute per side, she realizes with more than a little dread.

She'd been resolute to just take it, but tears sting her eyes and a little sob escapes her unbidden.

Her squeal of protest did something to his brain, made him yearn to hear it again. The idea that she couldn't control herself was intoxicating for both of them. But when he hears her little sob? To know that she was so close to the edge of breaking and that it was his doing? Camus feels drunk on the power. Images of her flood his mind: with a bruised bottom, sobbing outright over his knee, him flipping her onto her sore backside just to take her, fucking her so hard that she cums again and again.

He tries to take inconspicuous breaths in an effort to calm himself as he continues her steady punishment. He can tell she will be feeling this tomorrow, maybe even the next day with how red and blotchy he is making her. It was fucking gorgeous.

Mel's nervous system was already starting to fray. This side starts burning sooner, either that or he is striking her harder. Her hips try to jump away from the pain by the last few strokes as she emits another yummy little sob.

"I know, I know it hurts darling. Let's get you up now," he finds a semblance of respite himself in the calming words, in the act of taking care of her. At the same time, he needs her coating his dick.

His gentle words are a balm she didn't realize she needed. He pulls her to sitting. She winces and it gives her a little thrill she doesn't quite understand.

"C'mon honey," he pulls her to stand. With one arm around her waist and the other holding her hand, he steers her towards the bedroom. His lips graze her neck. He needs to sink into her.

It's obvious that his bed was hastily made this morning, covers rumpled and pillows askew. There are four or five books stacked on his side table, each with a bookmark sticking out. There is a box of tissues, some antacid tablets and a large teal water bottle.

He stops at the end of the bed, hands feeling the heat coming from her ass.

"Color?" he murmurs into the soft skin behind her ear.

"Green, Sir," after his response to her yellow earlier, she finds she trusts him now.

He sits her down on the fluffy white blanket tossed on the end of the bed. The softness feels good on her raw cheeks. He flicks on the reading light and pulls out condoms from his bedside drawer. Her eyes follow him, glued to his beautiful form. When he turns back, she sees the huge dark spot his leaking cock has left on his underwear. How is it that he still has those on?

He follows her line of sight.

"Yeah, you fucking turn me on, Missy. That rosy ass jiggling, you cumming on my fingers, you taking it like a good girl." He stands right in front of her and tucks an errant hair behind her ear. "And what do good girls get? Hmmm?"

She bites her bottom lip, hesitating.

"Or-orgasms, Sir" she breathes out.

"Uh huh," he pulls his waistband away from his belly and out over his dripping cock. She watches the line of precum stretching from the fabric to his tip with hungry eyes.

"You want a little taste darlin'?" He tips his cock down, offering it to her mouth.

Her only answer is her tongue out. She licks his tip off before taking it into her mouth and sucking the precum out from his little hole. Her tongue feels wild on his underside.

"Oh fuck, girl," he pulls back, noticing her flinch as her weight shifts on her battered ass.

"You want off that?" It seems like a question, but the pressure on her shoulder from his hand is anything but.

She gingerly lays back, her legs opening automatically for him with a sigh. She wants it as much as he does. Her pheromoned arousal wafts up to him.

"Do you know how gorgeous this is honey?" he pets her pussy lightly.

Before he knows it, he's on his knees by the bedside, bowing down to the oldest altar known to man. He can't help but wrap his lips around her clit for a minute or two. Pulling her nub into the vacuum of his mouth and ravishing it with the tip of his tongue.

Just as her vocals get warmed up he pulls off, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. He makes quick work of rolling a condom over his hard shaft. He crawls up her body, dragging a line up her thigh to the cleft of her legs.

"Please Sir," her hips yearn towards him, her wet entrance only just taking his crown.

Without a word he sinks into her. It's agonizingly slow. He struggles not to groan in pleasure.

"Is this what you wanted?" he says after finally seating himself fully into her.

Mel is too in the moment to answer, feeling every long inch of him in her gut.

"Hmm, is it?" he sits up on his heels, tucking his knees up under her. He trails his fingers down her front. "Did you need someone to take care of you?" He licks his fingers before drawing circles on her nipples. "To discipline you," He trails down her belly to her mons. "To show you what a good girl you can be?"

As his thumb settles on her clit, he sets a gentle rhythm with his hips. It's tortuous, yet gloriously so.

"Yes Sir, please Sir," she is whimpering.

"Please what, darling" his voice starts to betray just how good it's feeling to him.

"Please fuck me harder Sir," she begs.

"Oh I am going to," his voice low, full of roguish promises. "Gonna fuck you so hard you see stars. But not till you cum again."

His fingers pick up the pace in a mix of gently pinching and pulling, milking and rubbing her just enough to drive her crazy.

"Do you want it? Want to cum?" he asks her in his sexy gravel of a voice.

"Yes, please Sir, just- harder please." Her hips undulate, grind into him.

"What do you want harder, good girl? This?" his thumb presses into her clit.

"Ohh" her face wrings in pleasure.

"Or maybe this?" he taps her mons with light slaps.

"OH! God yes Sir!"

He smirks, eyes narrowed as the back of his hand clashes harder onto the crest of her pussy.

She's never had someone spank her pussy. She is astounded by how good it feels. She jerks and squeals on the end of his cock.

His hips pick up the pace as the sound of the smacks seem to echo in the room.

"Tell me what kind of girl you are, sweetheart."

"I'm a naughty brat," she whines, the slaps connecting to punishment in her foggy, submissive brain.

Camus jerks forward, abandoning her clit. His hands lace into her hair, his mouth centimeters from hers. He had meant to stop thrusting into her, but simply can't.

"Are you? Naughty girls get fucked, but don't get to cum. Is that what you want?"

Mel's eyes go wide.

"Nonononono! I'm a good girl, good girl, Please Sir," she shakes her head vigorously.

"Oh, now you are good?" his eyebrows raise, "Are you sure? Let's see if you can wait until I tell you to cum."

"Uh huh, yes sir, please let me cum!" The girl who guffawed at the idea of begging for an orgasm just hours ago would be shocked by what she saw here now. That girl is nowhere to be found.

"Wait," he orders and pushes back again to his heels. Metering out his thrusts, he barely touches her clit.

Her hips vibrate of their own accord against his hand, frantic for the friction. Her teeth grit together.

"Sir, please, please please" Mel intones, about to cum anyway.

"Not yet," he switches to pussy slaps.

Her lips pout and shiver with her puffed breath as she whines.

His cock is pumping faster now.

"Oh god, sir, I'm gonna cum, please!" her voice is as ragged as the edge she is riding.

"You wanna cum?" his voice masks the intensity of his desire.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, please, please, please!"

"Hmmmmm," he draws out his permission, torturing her.

"Please Sir!" she sobs.

"Cum," his fingers start to blur on her clit.

A scream is ripped from her throat as her orgasm finally topples over her in shakes and shudders. Somehow it's better than before, being fucked, feeling like she earned her orgasm, being a good girl with a blistered bottom. Camus doesn't stop, doesn't slow. In fact, he is speeding up, thrusting hard.

Watching Mel cum on the end of his dick is rampantly pornographic. Feeling her spasm around him is like pouring fuel on a fire. He's held himself in check so long and he just can't anymore. He lets loose, allowing his body to take what it's wanted all along. His fingertips dig into her upper thighs, holding her hips in a tight grip as her body convulses. His long thumbs land on either side of her mons, gripping, pulling, digging. He slams into her deep, then impossibly deeper.

The sensations are intense and overwhelming, for both of them.

His face is a mask of concentration, brow furrowed, jaw clenched, breath seething in and out, spittle dotting his lips. His eyes are trained on the bouncing of her tits. His biceps bulge and his forearms pop like so many ropes as he fucks her harder. Sweat runs down his rippling abs. Had she been coherent, just the sight of him would be enough to deliver her from evil, or maybe directly to its arms. Who's to say.

As it is, her body is nothing but reaction and ecstasy. Wetness pours from her, covering his cock and dripping from his balls. Her back arches as pleasure rends her into pieces. She is shattered, broken apart on the ramrod of his cock and his sublime touch. Her screams are involuntary. She might be begging him to stop, she might be begging for more. There's no telling at this point. The stimulation is driving her to near madness.

"Oh FUCK!" the muscles of his neck cord. His balls tighten and he can feel it in his thighs, somehow he manages to thrust harder. A growl issues forth from his chest turning into a thundering bellow, his hips jolt and sputter.

His spine jerks as he cums deep into her throbbing cunt, emptying what feels like his very soul into her.

They both shake, eyes closed as though vibrating on a higher plane of existence in search of god. When Camus opens his eyes, she is sprawled before him, naked and gorgeous, her chest heaving. He slowly pulls out of her quivering crevice, the motion making her moan slightly. She is still floating, out of her body.

He quietly pulls off the condom and disposes of it then takes a big swig from the water bottle.

He props himself sitting beside her, taking deep breaths. She curls into him instinctively.

"C'mere," he cradles her body until she starts breathing normally again.

Her eyes flutter open and she smacks her lips lightly.

"Drink this," he holds the spout of the water bottle to her lips. She sucks greedily.

"Good girl," he whispers. He doesn't miss the smile on her lips after she swallows.

"Do you need to pee right now?" he asks, smoothing her hair away from her face.

Mel shakes her head and snuggles against him.

Camus pulls the fluffy blanket up around them. He'll shower them both once she's come down a little from her subby headspace. He'll insist that she stay the night. Not just because she shouldn't be alone to process a session like that, but also because he'd really enjoy her tucked up against him 'till morning. Maybe then he can see if she has learned her lesson or not. The thought makes him puff out a soft chuckle while his spent cock chimes in with a faint jounce. Yeah, he'd be willing to do it again, and again, and even again. She may let him keep her yet.