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“count them for me, sweetheart,” kento reminds you in a gentle yet commanding tone. he’s got you bent over his knees with your skirt flipped up and your panties gathered around your ankles.

sometimes you go too far with your teasing. your bratty attitude makes kento lose his usual, casual composure. his veiny hand comes down against the fat of your ass again. and again.

slap, slap, slap, slap — “three, f-four - ow - five,” you count between whimpers. your hips jolt with each spank, your eyes filling with tears. kento feels his dick stirring in his boxer briefs, his eyes glued to the curve of your ass. the plump flesh jiggling with each smack is addictive. he never wants to stop this little punishment of yours.

you sniffle, the tingling sensation of being punished in such a way is overwhelming you. kento uses this opportunity to soothe you, like he always does. he never fails to find the perfect balance between rough and gentle.

“shh, shh,” kento whispers, his hand cupping your wet pussy, rubbing it with the intent of comforting you. he stimulates your clit with his callused fingers until you’re moaning in pleasure instead of pain, “my poor wife, hm? you’ll be okay.”

kento knows what he’s doing. he knows that his contradicting words and actions are going to drive you insane — which is exactly what he wants to achieve.

i just wanted to see him smoldering

(no pun intended i swear, i made this days ago)