Lynn Humilated And Then Tamed By The Hairbrush!

About eight or nine years ago Lynn and I were on the beach. It was a fairly secluded spot - we were the only ones there – and the time was about half five on a sunny August day.
I was ready to go home but Lynn fancied a swim first - she wanted to make the most of what was left of the weekend.
‘I'll nip off now and start preparing tea... by the time you get back it'll be on the table.’ I suggested.
‘Fine.’ she responded.
She stood up and slipped off her shorts - she was already topless. I studied her superb naked body as she waded out into the surf. The beach only gently shelved so she would have a few hundred yards or so before it became deep enough to swim.
Lynn was sometimes exhilarated by the prospect of exposing herself in public... or rather risking being caught nude out in the open. We had shagged the year previous under the Worsley Monument on an Autumn Sunday afternoon. It was extremely exciting - we could have easily been caught totally naked by hikers: she was absolutely soaking and I was rock hard just on the bus over there... happy memories.
Sorry, I've gone off on a tangent.
I gathered up our belongings and was going to leave just a towel and her shorts and vest but then I thought: I just can't facking resist this!
I picked up EVERYTHING!
There would be no clothes, or towel even, for her to cover herself up. It was mean; it was facking mean.
I glimpsed her swimming strongly in the turquoise water - oblivious to her fate.
I started to laugh... it was hard to stop.
I trudged up the sandy slipway and home.
We didn't live that far from the shore, about a third of a mile and a ten minute walk perhaps but, it would seem a tad longer for Lynn than normal.
About forty minutes later I was home having put the joint in the oven and tidied away the gear from the beach.
I was on the sofa in the lounge skimming through: 'Men are from Mars; Women from Venus' when a shadow hurried along the window.
The front door was angrily drummed.
‘Facking let me in... you BASTARD!!’
I let her in, totally naked with her long chestnut hair still matted by the salt water - she was a tad upset.
She slapped my cheek with her right hand hard then she beat her fists against my chest repeatedly, all the time mouthing obscenities.
‘You facking, facking nasty bastard! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!’
‘Calm down, dear, you're not at work now!’
This was a sarcastic reference to her having successfully recently completed an Anger Management module as part of her training.
I had grabbed her wrists at this point but it didn't prevent her from attempting to kick then knee me in the nuts.
Then she tried to head butt me.
‘You have totally facking humiliated me!’ she sniffed.
I visualised her running naked, in that ungainly fashion that women do, through the pleasant residential thoroughfares with one arm across her breasts, the other protecting her modesty, all the time sobbing.
I wondered, in addition, if her boss had seen her, since he lived on the route - what a satisfying prospect!
‘Our relationship is OVER! I want the bungalow on the market... tomorrow!’
That would be sad - the relationship had just started to get interesting.
‘Let GO OF ME!’
She spat in my face.
That was a red rag to a bull.
I flipped - enough was a facking enough!
I twisted her bare left arm up behind her back. She squealed with the pain - to no avail.
I then roughly manhandled her such that she ended up across my lap on the sofa. I then proceeded to spank her on each buttock hard with each word that I shouted:
‘OW! That really hurts!’
‘OW! OW!’
Extra hard smack!
‘Let go of me or I'm going to call the facking police!’
I parodied every word of what she had just said... accompanied each with another smack.
She was screaming and struggling but I held her down... and thanked God that the double glazing was soundproofed.
Then I espied the hair brush just out of reach on the coffee table - she had left it there before we had gone out. She was very shortly going to rue not tidying it up.
‘What are you doing now?’ she exclaimed.
With great difficulty - Lynn nearly broke free - I managed to stretch across and grab the brush.
‘I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't forget!’
I meant it too - nobody, and I mean nobody, spits in my face!
‘You'll be taught a lesson in COURT!’ she retorted with spirit.
I didn't facking care.
I beat her hard with the wood of the brush, once again across each very red buttock.
I merely thrashed her harder.
‘I've had enough of your selfish manipulation, your little mind games... your contrived moods to get you're own way. Report me to the police and have me prosecuted - I really don't give a FACK!’
After about twenty swats I became aware of a change in her: she ceased hollering and the crying reduced to a gentle sniffing - her unclad body became pliant.
I felt compelled to loosen my hold of her.
She twisted with some effort her flushed, perspiring and good looking face round - her large baby blue eyes clamoured for release, surrender.
She spoke softly: ‘I'm truly sorry. Take me; use me as a sexual object as I deserve nothing less.’
I became aware of the dampness on my thighs - it wasn't seawater.
I propped her up.
‘Get in the bedroom... I'm going to fuck you... hard!’
She rubbed her badly bruised buttocks and meekly padded in the direction of the master bedroom - aptly named... now.
I entered the room.
She lay naked and spread eagled on her back. Her thick and lustrous hair spread out from around her head - it still appeared moist from the Solent.
She made no effort to resist, no effort at all, as I affixed first her arms to the head rest and then her legs to the footings of the King Size bed with cord.
She issued a sigh as I penetrated her damp cunt. I thrust hard with my erect penis, the base of my shaft pushing close against her swollen clit. I cared not whether she came but within a minute I felt her strong internal muscles spasm.
She cried out and gasped.
I continued to thrust.
Again she gasped.
I shafted her with even greater frequency and f***e.
For a third time: she orgasmed.
Seconds later, I blissfully felt my hot spunk shoot out.
Satiated, I rolled off her and to the side.

Later, I realised that something had changed between us, but it was subtle - our relationship was not the same.
Was it because we could never top that one violent explosion of passion?
I don't know - we split about eighteen months later.
Still, I remember that evening when we settled in front of the television I picked up 'Men are from Mars; Women from Venus' and in front of Lynn threw it in the bin.
‘Guess we don't need that anymore?’ I said.
‘Guess not.’ she replied.
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Categories: BDSMVoyeur
Posted by Ima_Kant
4 years ago    Views: 114
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3 years ago
naughty slut for leaving