As we wait, I don’t speak – just sit sipping my scotch on the rocks. You don’t talk either. We just wait there in silence on either side of the living room. Me in the armchair, you nervously upright on the edge of the sofa – dressed in your finest blouse and skirt. You glance repeatedly at the clock on the wall.

And finally, we hear the knock on the door. The knock that signals that the game is about to begin.

You open the door and let the general in. He’s an elderly gentleman - tall and gaunt with grey hair, dressed in his dark, heavy military uniform, epaulets on his shoulders, a row of medals on his chest, black leather gloves on his hands. Both of you stand in the middle of the room as he calmly looks you over, his face devoid of any expression.

You know what I’m about to say – but still, you wait to hear the command.

“Take your clothes off,” I finally say.

You sigh, wincing slightly, still somewhat uncomfortable about undressing right in front of the general. But those are the rules – and you have to obey.

Slowly, you remove your blouse, your skirt, your bra and panties. The General follows the process intently until finally you stand in front of him, naked and beautiful. Your blonde hair just reaches your shoulders, your firm, round breasts point straight at him. The mound of your pussy is carefully trimmed, just revealing the dark pink lips. And at the end of your long, slender legs, your feet are dressed in an elegant pair of high-heeled shoes. You are just gorgeous – and my cock begins twitching at the sight.

I let the two of you stand there in silence for a while. He must be able the smell your skin – the sweet scent of female flesh – the scent that drive men wild – that drives me wild.

“Please,” I say. “Have a seat, Sir.”

The general walks around you, pulls out an upright wooden chair, and sits down. From there he has a lovely view of your back and your curvy behind. I let him enjoy the sight for a while as I take another sip of my scotch.

“Right, honey,” I say. “The general would like you to lie on his lap. Face down.”

You hesitate slightly – then walk to his chair. Carefully, you place yourself across his uniform pants – your legs on one side of the chair, your arms on the other. You turn your head slightly to look at me, biting your lip in anticipation.

“Well, Sir,” I say slowly. “As you know, my wife has been a very naughty girl. And for that reason, she has demanded to be punished by you.”

The general nods. I wait for a second before giving the official order:

“The punishment may begin – now!”

The general raises his gloved hand and slaps your buttock hard.

Smack!

You wince – and he slaps you again.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

With great precision, he keeps spanking you – in a calmly measured rhythm, every single slap delivered from exactly the same height with exactly the same velocity – alternating from one buttock to the other, gradually turning them a dark pink. I hear you whimpering quietly.

“Yes?” I say. “You like that, don’t you?”

Shivering, you shake your head.

“Don’t be silly,” I reply. “Of course you love it. You’re a dirty little girl, aren’t you? I bet you’re getting wet already...”

Hesitantly, you nod, your eyes filling with tears.

“Please...” you whisper.

I feel my cock stretching to its full length inside my pants. I’m so aroused – so incredibly aroused. If you’re as excited as me, your juices must be soaking The General’s uniform pants. I sip my scotch and decide to give you the permission you want.

“Very well,” I say. “You may touch yourself. Sir – keep up the spanking.”

The General nods – and lands slap after measured slap on your delicious little butt. Your trembling hand reaches for your pussy – and a shiver of pleasure goes through your entire body as your fingers make contact with your clit. It must be all hard and swollen by now – swimming in the juices of your lust.

“Ohhh!” you gasp.

“Look at me!” I order. “Look at me when you masturbate.”

You stare straight into my eyes, sobbing in ecstasy as your fingers stroke your clit. I can’t imagine how wet you must be now – but I know that every stroke of The General’s gloved hand brings you closer and closer to orgasm.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Your mouth falls open as you gasp for air.

“Are you coming?” I ask sharply.

“Aaah!” you reply. “Aaah – yes – aaah!”

You thrash about on the general’s lap as the climax hits you. He places his other gloved hand firmly on your back, holding you still as he continues to spank you. You go limp, and your hand drops to the floor as you savor your orgasm.

“No!” I say. “Don’t stop. Keep going. I want you to come again.”

You whimper more loudly this time. Your trembling fingers find your clit again and you clench your eyes shut in pleasure and agony as you resume masturbating. I could order you to keep looking at me – but it’s more important that you come again. A wet patch forms on the general’s dark uniform pants – the juices most be gushing from your cunt. I can smell your arousal from here.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

Your buttocks grow a deeper red as The General keeps spanking you. I sip my scotch again and put the glass down. My cock is completely, even painfully, erect, poking against the fabric of my pants. I unzip and let it out. It stretches, twitching, its bluish head hot and swollen. You’ve opened your eyes at the sound of the zipper, and your mouth falls open, gasping at the sight of my throbbing member.