Page 18 of Hurts So Good

“I should’ve done this months ago.”

I wanted to reach back and rub my smarting bottom. Instead, I gripped the warm edge of the picnic table and thrust my ass higher, pushed it toward Art, inviting another taste of the belt. I still don’t know why. It hurt like hell, but it was a good kind of pain, one I needed to feel.

I cried out as a second sharp, hot lash cut across my trembling, vulnerable bottom. That time I jumped, my whole body convulsing in reaction to the belt. Heat was all around—beating down on my body from the cloudless desert sky and warming up my naked squirming ass. My top clung to my back as I began to sweat. My pussy was wet. Where the hell was that truck driver? Random, lust-filled thoughts passed through my mind as Art began to whip me in a steady rhythm.

The leather stung like biting insects. I jumped and jolted and wriggled and squirmed about, dancing from one foot to the other, jiggling around but always offering my ass to the belt again and again. I hated the pain, but I wanted it too. The blows hurt and yet made me feel more aroused than I’d ever felt in my life. Where was that truck driver? I realized that I wanted him to watch me getting my bare bottom whipped. I wanted to lie over a table in the open air with my shorts round my ankles and my boyfriend taking his belt to me. I wanted the stranger to get off on my humiliation, take his cock out, and jerk off all over my face.

The whipping ended, and I felt a sense of something missing, disappointment, though I’m not sure I could have taken much more. I realized my face was very hot, as warm as my well-lashed ass. Art’s hand caressed my bottom and I shuddered, ready to come.

His fingers slid down to my pussy and I groaned. I needed release. I thrust my hips at Art, fucking his searching hand.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so wet and ready.”

It was true. Something about being whipped had really turned my crank.

“Now you’re going to go stand over by that tree with your shorts round your ankles. It’s corner time, Joely.”

“What?”

My eyes must have been as wide as Bambi’s. Now, my darling boyfriend wanted me to parade myself, half naked, where anyone could pass by and see my well-whipped ass. We’d both be arrested.

“I can’t do that…”

Without a word, Art pulled me up and marched me toward the nearest tree. I shuffled along with my shorts restricting my movement like a convict’s manacles. The shade felt refreshingly cool. I could see the nearby rest area. There were a few vehicles parked on the tarmac. Anyone could decide to take a walk over to the picnic table. I felt oddly powerless, a little desperate. Once more, this was a new sensation, and something about it turned me on.

“You’ll do as you’re told, Joely. Face the tree. No, don’t try to cover your ass with your hands. I’m going to sit here and admire my handiwork. That’s a well-whipped behind you’ve got there.”

The bark felt rough beneath my chest and thighs. I did as I was told like a good little girl, the sense of arousal growing steadily in my cunt and mind. I started thinking about going over Art’s knees for a long, hard, bare-bottom spanking. I thought about paddlings and whippings and being severely chastised with a riding crop. Visions of discipline danced in my head.

“You look good, sweetheart.”

I didn’t know how to respond. To thank Art for the compliment seemed strange under the circumstances. I felt excited, exposed, nervy. Any moment, someone could approach and witness my al fresco corner time. My heart thumped, and my legs shook a little. My ass felt very warm, throbbing in time to the tingling of my clit. I needed release.

Minutes passed. I could hear insects and traffic passing on the highway. I didn’t want to move. I wanted to do as I was told. Obeying Art aroused me.

“Come here, Joely.”

I turned and looked at Art. He was sitting on the bench by the picnic table, and he patted his lap. I shuffled toward him, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and excitement. I could see his cock pressing hard against the fly of his jeans. He wanted me to suck him off. I began to crouch down between his legs, but he stopped me.

“Just to make sure the message is clear.”

Art grabbed me and put me across his knees. With a sharp intake of breath, he began to spank me, hard and fast on my sore bottom. I squealed.

“You’re going to learn to do as you are told, young lady!”

My hips writhed and bucked over his thighs. I made rapid fucking movements, grinding myself against his legs. I was going to come.

Art’s hand felt very different from his belt, almost more arousing, intimate. I felt like a naughty little girl. I could feel my warm ass becoming hotter. I was going to have trouble sitting down.

Art spanked me good and hard, my naked bottom quivering with every short, sharp slap. My clit was swollen fit to burst. My pussy dripped juice on my boyfriend’s thighs. I was going to come.

“Oh please!”

I orgasmed violently, kicking my legs and crying out in pleasure and pain. Confused and trembling, I lay there, my shorts still wrapped about my ankles.

“Now, you’re going to go to the women’s washroom, make yourself tidy, and have a big drink of water.”

I nodded, unable to speak. Slowly, I stood up and wriggled into my shorts. The fabric felt cool against my hot, well-whipped and spanked behind.

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