Ms. Rosati World

Time to try something new at home

Again and again, the terrible strap had seared across Jerome’s bum flesh, the broad, sturdy yet flexible leather letting puffy red stripes of fire across his bottom and the very top of his thighs. Tears literally had sprung out of the well-whipped man’s closed eyes, and he had sobbed pitifully as the leather continued to lash his rear end. His cheeks were streaked with tears, his nose was running shamefully, and his mouth was contorted in a grimace of pity and sorrow. She sure had to know how much his tender, vulnerable buttocks were suffering, but he was sure that she also knew it was what Jerome needed and longed for. That’s why she had wanted this lesson to be remembered. As quickly as it had started, his whipping had ended, and little by little Jerome’s cries had decreased.

The hairbrush with which she spanked him that first night still rests on her vanity, a potent symbol of her authority and his submission. Antony reaches for the hairbrush in the darkness and caresses its polished, flat back, imagining that he can still feel the heat lingering there. It's not that he is always so compliant. Sometimes, he is angry and resistant, but she knows how to make him regret his resistance with lovely firmness. Finally, Antony fully accepts that his submission is a manifestation of the love she had earned for her care and faith in him. And, of course, he still deserves a spanking, now and again. Antony has always been known for his temper. Perhaps he deliberately acts up from time to time in order to get the spanking he wants and needs, but that's his little secret, Antony thinks, stifling a laugh. He always feels so close to her after one of her stinging, shameful spankings, and so hungry to fuck her sweetly and hard until she's crying out from pleasure almost as loud as he cries out in pain.