Sitting on my couch, nice and wrapped up in a blanket as my bra tugs on my shoulders, right above where my marks lie.

All day, each twist, every turn, tugs even more. Putting more pressure on the marks, reminding me of the feeling. Reminding me who I belong too.

I haven’t had it in me to brat. Every time I do, a simple hand resting on my shoulder stops me.

We had time alone in the house today. First in a while. She wasted no time, pulling me over her lap. Spanking me hard, fast, without mercy. Left cheek, right cheek, left a few more times, hitting the same spot. A different spot. The thigh. My sit spots. Nothing was off limits.

Holding me down by my shoulder. Hand pressing into the bite marks, her other raining down flaming spanks down, turning my ass a nice shade of crimson. Matches my tights. The combination of sensations overloading me. I couldn’t help it. Drool started pooling from my mouth.

Then the garage door opened, she pulled away, pulling me up by my hair. The tip of the iceberg. Pushing me away I slumped down as roommates walked back in. None the wiser.

Now I sit, under a blanket on my couch, my bra straps digging into the bike marks on my shoulders, hair tickling the hickies on my neck, and my cheeks still burning against the couch.

Such a glorious feeling it is.