Page 20 of His to Correct

Michael entered, his face darkening as he sniffed the air. “Georgette,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Did you leave a burner on again?”

Georgette’s eyes widened in alarm. She whirled around, gasping as she saw the forgotten pan smoking on the stove. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry, Michael. I got distracted and?—”

“Enough,” Michael cut her off as he turned off the burner himself and put the pan in the sink. He turned back to Georgette. “This is the third time this month. You know how dangerous that is. I’m afraid you’ve earned yourself a serious punishment.”

I watched, transfixed, as Michael led Georgette to the living room. He sat on the couch and pulled her across his lap. With practiced ease, he flipped up her skirt and lowered her white cotton panties.

This is just research, I told myself firmly.I’m watching this objectively. Clinically.

But as Michael’s hand came down hard on Georgette’s bare bottom, I couldn’t help but flinch. The sharp crack seemed to echo in the small viewing room. Georgette yelped, her legs kicking slightly.

“Count them,” Michael ordered. “And thank me for each one.”

“One!” Georgette gasped. “Thank you, sir!”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, all too aware of the heat building between my thighs. This is normal, I insisted to myself. It’s just a physiological response to witnessing an intimate act. It doesn’t mean anything.

The spanking continued, Georgette’s bottom turning from pink to red under Michael’s firm hand. Her cries grew more desperate, but she dutifully counted each swat and thanked him.

When he finally stopped, Georgette lay limp across his lap, her breath coming in shuddering gasps. Michael rubbed her reddened flesh gently. “You took that well,” he murmured. “But we’re not done yet.”

He stood, guiding Georgette to bend over the arm of the couch. From a nearby cabinet, he retrieved a wicked-looking strap.

My eyes widened. Surely he wasn’t going to… But even as I thought it, Michael brought the strap down across Georgette’s already punished bottom.

Georgette screamed, her back arching. “Please, Michael!” she sobbed. “I’m sorry! I’ll be more careful, I promise!”

“I know you will,” Michael said, his voice stern but not cruel. “This is to make sure you remember.”

The whip fell again and again. I watched, mesmerized, as angry red welts rose on Georgette’s skin. My hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly, my nails digging into the upholstery. I told myself I was appalled by the brutality of it, but I couldn’t deny the ache between my legs, the way my nipples had hardened against the lace of my bra.

When Michael finally set the whip aside, Georgette was a sobbing mess. He helped her to her feet, holding her gently as she cried into his chest. “Shh,” he soothed. “It’s almost over. Just one more part to your lesson. I need to make sure you remember.”

Michael began to caress Georgette tenderly. His hands roamed over her body, and soon her sobs turned to soft moans of pleasure.

“You were a terribly naughty girl,” Michael murmured. “You need a special kind of discipline.”

He bent Georgette over the couch again, this time spreading her legs wide. I watched, my breath catching, as he produced a small bottle of lubricant.

“Michael? Sir?” Georgette asked, her voice trembling. “What are you doing?”

“Shh,” he said again. “You earned this. I’m going to fuck your bottom.”

I knew I should look away. This was far beyond what I needed for my proposal. But I couldn’t tear my eyes from thescreen as Michael gently worked first one finger, then two, into Georgette’s thoroughly whipped bottom.

Georgette whimpered, but didn’t protest. As Michael’s fingers moved in and out, her whimpers turned to moans.

“That’s it,” Michael ordered. “Relax for me. Let me in.”

I squirmed in my seat, acutely aware of how wet I had become. When Michael positioned himself behind Georgette, slowly pushing his hard length into her tight rear entrance, I couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like. The burn, the stretch, the exquisite fullness…

I stopped the video. The screen showed a frozen close-up of Georgette’s blushing face, eyes closed and lower lip between her teeth.

I don’t want to be her!I shouted at myself.

My heart flipped as my thoughts slid in an even less welcome direction, and suddenly I became the one holding the whip, the one making Georgette cry out in her penitence. The one…

I shook my head and turned off the screen.

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