Wooden spoon and an objet d'art

Jason and Gemma are in a D/s relationship. When he commands, she obeys.  When he desires her, he gets her and she is more than happy to comply, even if he is being a little sadistic with his spanking……

(Warning: sexually explicit)


We’re lounging in the lounge.  Well, he is in an armchair watching the news on the TV and I’m kneeling between his legs sucking his cock. Well, more sipping on it like a cup of tea.  Long languishing licks of my tongue up and down, round and round.

Mmmm, tasty beast.

The sedate style isn’t going to last. My hair is grabbed and he shoves me right down on him until I gag. Yep, got the message: suck not sip.

I’m quite content to continue in this vein – his veins are certainly standing out for me. But no, he pulls me off and from underneath the armchair he picks up a wooden spoon. Long handled, pristine clean with no stains and he is armed.

Another one of his hidden toys. When does he do it?  Does he sequester the spoon down his trouser leg and then on to the floor when I’m not looking. Perhaps he plans to make me play a game, like a special type of hide and seek or even a treasure hunt.  Paddles, spoons, hairbrushes, all buried under an X marks the spot location. I’m oblivious to them. Or perhaps I simply ignore them, knowing why they are there. Thing not to be tidied away under any circumstances.

I’m over his lap in one fluid movement.  Nose down, bottom up and tiptoes anchored on the floor.

Whack!   Bull’s eye on my left cheek.

“Ow!” I yelp.

“Ow?” he says, “that’s not an ow, this is an ow.”

WHACK! On my right cheek.

OK, that hurt. My eyes sting a little and I keep my mouth firmly shut.




Poor bottom.

My knickers are gone in a flash.



And so on he goes with his spanking.  My bum is like an oven being heated up ready for baking.  So I think of tomorrow. How much of the day do I need to be sat down? Will I want to sit down and if I spend the day on my feet, I should probably wear sensible shoes.  Sensible rational thoughts are going through my head as he spanks away and I wince, wriggle and squirm for him.

Then I hear him humming. Humming!  He doesn’t hum.  Years of spanking and it’s the first time he’s hummed to himself. It means only one thing to me. He’s not going to fire up his laptop and spend the evening reading emails. Oh no. I’m it for the evening. He is having his funtime and I’m the sole toy on offer.

Tomorrow is forgotten. I don’t care if I stand on my head tomorrow. Then today is obliterated from my conscience and eventually I’m not really thinking about anything in particular.

My head is hanging off the seat and my knees are clamped together.  Instinctively I stick my bum up higher and he rewards me with a little caress down my lower back with his free hand.

“Such a good girl.”


An ankle is grabbed and he’s tapping the sole of my foot.

“No!” I cry out. Shit, too late.  He taps me harder. Why don’t I ever learn! No means yes and yes means no.

Back to the bottom and it is a fiery blaze burning away and I’m not really registering the sensation any longer because I’m being consumed by another more urgent one. I grind my hips on his thigh. He notices.

“Want to come, babe?” he says.

“Mmmmm.”  Avoiding the yes/no dilemma completely.

I grind again and his cock his right by my hip as hard as ever.

Flipped over he begins to tap away on my clit.  A rhythmic, rapid tap of the spoon and with the other hand he rolls my nipples about.  I draw my knees up and together.

He slaps them down again.


I do explosively and he has to hold on to me or else I would be on the floor.  He doesn’t stop with the tapping the whole time I’m writhing and wailing.

“Mmmmm thank you, sir,” I mutter.

Flipped over. We’re off again and this time he’s going for my thighs.




Later, I’m standing in front of the bedroom mirror looking at the marks.  There are slug trails on my inner thighs where he has leaked out of me. I’ve been well fucked by him while he had me pinned down on the bed and it’s taken me a while to stand upright.  I’m trying to work out which marks are going to fade in a few hours and which will linger. He comes up behind me, naked with his steaming sexy body. He nibbles a kiss on my shoulder and admires his handiwork.

He rotates me around, “Checking on my marks.”  His marks.
He stares at my buttock cheeks for a few seconds.

“Well that’s a bit uneven,” he remarks.

“Uneven?” I say cautiously.

“Yes,” he twizzles me around. “I was going for symmetry.”

I look blankly at him.

“You’re not the only one in this household with artistic skills.”

“So, you’ve been decorating me. An objet d’art?” I can’t help the sarcasm drifting into my tone of voice.

The spoon is back in his hand. I don’t remember it being brought upstairs. But then I don’t remember how I got upstairs either.



“Oh, babe, you silly thing.”

I’m dragged towards the bed and bent over the end of it and we’re off again.



I glance over my shoulder at him and he has that delightfully crazy manic grin on his face.

Oh happy boy!

Happy girl!

 Trust Me to Know YouTRUST ME

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