“I’m sorry,” you said sadly.
“Sorry about what, my sweet honey?” I asked. “What do you have to be sorry about?”
“I don’t know! Something! I’m afraid you’re angry with me.”
“I’m not a bit angry with you, darling. You’ve done nothing to make me angry.”
“Okay.” You nodded your head, but didn’t look convinced. In fact, you still looked sad. “I want to be perfect for you. And when I’m not perfect, I feel you are disappointed and angry.”
I looked at you seriously for a moment. “Do you think you would feel better if I disciplined you?”
“Okay then – let’s do that. Take off your clothes.”
I watched you hungrily as you did what you were told. The unveiling of your body is always a special occasion to me, like the opening of a show by a great artist, for your body is stunningly beautiful. With unconscious artistry, you displayed your loveliness to best advantage as you quickly but gracefully removed your clothes. You faced me, with your eyes downcast, as you removed your jacket and your blouse, rapidly folding them and draping them over the back of a nearby chair. I admired the lovely lines of your shoulders and arms for a moment. Then my eyes were immediately drawn to the display of your cleavage that was provided by your sexy and rather spare bra, which in front consisted of two small patches of lacy material held together by a thin strap running beneath your breasts ... You looked so lovely that I almost asked you to leave your bra on. But before I could speak, you reached behind your back and quickly unclasped it, then pulled it down over your shoulders, tossing it onto the small pile of clothes on the back of the chair.
It struck me for the thousandth time how extraordinarily lovely your breasts are. They are fulsome enough to fill my large hands, and perfectly shaped, with one curve flowing smoothly into another. It occurred to me, not for the first time, how closely each of them resembles the dome of the Hagia Sophia.
It is one of the most beautiful buildings in the world; just as your body is one of the most beautiful bodies in the world.
You loosened the waistband of your skirt, dropped it to the floor, and stepped gracefully out of it, revealing the extraordinary suppleness, strength and shapeliness of your legs. You were now wearing only high-heeled shoes and a thong. You turned your back to me, looking over your shoulder to see if I was pleased with you. Your thong displayed the curvy magnificence of your perfect ass. Bending forward, away from me, you pulled your thong down, dropped it to the floor and, while, still bent over, stepped out of the thong, turning slightly, which spread your cheeks and gave me a sweet view of your pussy and the tiniest glimpse of your lovely, rosebud asshole.
You turned back to face me, with one leg straight and the other artfully on point, looking into my eyes to gauge my approval. You stood there, in all your beauty, awaiting my command. I took my time to examine all the perfect details of your body, from the sweet shape of your feet in your high heels, up the long, smooth curves of your legs, lingering on the womanliness of your hips and your pussy. Then across your tight, fit, tummy. Lingering again on you breathtakingly beautiful breasts, then to your arms, your shoulders, your neck, your rich brown hair. My gaze then settled on the capstone of your loveliness, your beautiful face. You looked down respectfully while I studied your perfect chin, the sweetness, quietness and submissiveness of the sad half-smile on your lips, and the handsome expanse of your forehead. Your eyes were concealed by your submissive, downward glance. “Look at me so I can see your eyes, sweetheart.”
Your eyes, yes, expressive, magnificent, extraordinary. In response to my command, you gazed earnestly at me, I looked into the windows to your soul, and saw sweetness, intelligence, kindness, goodness, love ... perfection. Yet somehow you felt you were in need of correction in order to be better.
So be it, then. I was seated on the bed, with my feet on the floor. “Come lie across my lap, my sweet honey, and put your arms behind your back,” I commanded. It’s beyond my mastery of words to describe the litheness and gracefulness of your movements as you stepped out of your high heels and did as you were told. I grasped your wrists firmly and held them together in my left hand, rendering you quite helpless. With my right hand, I caressed your firm, sweet, lovely, shapely ass, then pushed one cheek aside to examine your asshole, which is so pretty and delicate that it is hard to believe it can accommodate the thickness of my cock.
I caressed both cheeks and the backs of your thighs, lingering over the sensual perfection of the curves, then gave the top of one thigh a firm smack. You quivered, and sighed softly. Slight redness showed where I had struck you. I slapped one of your ass cheeks, a bit harder this time, and a new reddened area appeared, somewhat like the shape of my hand. You quivered again, but were silent and still.