The Party

It was your daughter’s birthday party. A day marked by frustration and stresses, excitement and laughter, and temperamental weather.

We sat together, surveying the aftermath. Paper plates, plastic cups, streamers and wrapping paper strewn everywhere. The guests had departed, and the girls had been bathed and put to bed, the birthday girl exhausted but happy.

We sat together, surveying the aftermath, but too tired to do much about it for the moment. Not just physically tired, which was understandable after an afternoon spent with a half dozen or so children, chasing after them, entertaining them, soothing tempers and hurt feelings which quickly arose and were quickly forgotten throughout the few hours. No, we weren’t just physically tired, but emotionally as well. This was the first time the new extended family had gathered and the words left unspoken took their toll.

With a sigh, I stood and walked into the kitchen for a rubbish bag. Slowly, I started collecting the used plates and cups, scraping leftovers into a nearly empty bowl, and tipping unfinished drinks into an empty jug. Past experience had taught me that no matter what the advertising may say, garbage bags had a habit of tearing, especially when filled with a conglomeration of messy food and fluid.

“Jess? Jess, hon, leave it for later.” You had walked up behind me, gently placing your hands on my shoulders.

I smiled. “If we leave it for later, we’ll have to look at it until then, and it’ll still be there, won’t it?”

You sigh, and run your hands down my arms. “You’re right. As usual.” Stepping from behind me, you begin picking up the debris from the floor. We clean for awhile, before you silently hand me a doll. I couldn’t help but laughing.

“Well, you can’t expect the girls to leave all of their friends out of the fun. This is testament to everyone having a good time.” The doll’s hair was matted with icing, and what could possibly be ice-cream.

“Did they?” Your voice was soft, the full meaning of the question clear.

“The girls did, that’s what’s important.” I didn’t want to talk about it. But it was obvious that you did. Again, you moved to stand behind me, turning me to face you, a hand caressing my face.

“I’m sorry for today.”

“Why? I wasn’t expecting a warm welcome and open embrace from her at all. I’m just glad there was no open warfare.”

You pull me into your embrace, kissing me. “I wish I could be as understanding as you are.”

“Babe, there’s nothing to be done. She sees me as the person who stole you away. She won’t get over it, so there’s nothing to be done.” I rest my head against your chest, closing my eyes. “That doesn’t mean I’m not pissed off with it all.”

You laugh, and kiss me again. “One thing though,” you murmur against my lips. “I do love you.”

I smile. No matter how many times I hear those words, they still amaze me. “One other thing.”

“Hmmm?” I look into your eyes, and stroke your face as you respond.

“You’re now covered in icing.” Laughing, I step back from you, dancing away a few steps, holding up my hand, showing you the sticky pink and white frosting. You wipe your cheek, knowing that it’s there, you could feel it, but wanting confirmation.

You move towards me, but I keep my distance, moving towards the kitchen. Picking up a damp sponge from the sink, I tossed it towards you, still keping out of reach.

“I’m going to spank you for that.” A wicked grin crosses your face. I know I’m being backed into the corner, but not really caring all that much.

“Really? And why’s that?”

“Why do you think?”

“C’mon, you’ve got to admit the colour looks good on you.”

I couldn’t but help but laugh at your expression, a look of disbelief, disgust and amusement. You move to the sink, rinsing out the sponge, then suddenly dropping it and lunging for me. Grabbing my wrist, you pulled me towards you, trapping me between the sink and your body.

Placing my arms behind me, you held my wrists together with one hand, washing them and then turning off the tap with the other, all the while leaning against me.

“You really do need to be spanked, you know,” you whispered in my ear, your tongue snaking out to lick the lobe. “You need to be punished.”

“Didn’t you say that punishments shouldn’t be given unless they’re deserved and then should always be followed through?” My voice dropped to a husky whisper, aroused from the ministrations of your tongue, and the growing erection pressing against me.

“Yep.”

“And why do I deserve to be punished?”

“Because you’re a very, very, very bad girl.” You claim my lips again, your tongue invading my mouth, the kiss pure lust, pure hunger.

“And will this punishment be followed through?”

“Of course.” You move a hand between our bodies, rubbing my cunt through my denim jeans. “And it begins now.”

You release my wrists, your hand sliding up my arm and around to my breast, teasing the nipple through the fabric. Sliding it down my body, you unsnap my jeans, and begin to push them from my hips.

“You, my slave, are going to finish cleaning up from this afternoons activities while I shower.” The garment falls to the floor. “But you’ll do so with minimum of clothing.” You reach for my shirt, pulling it apart, buttons flying. You lower your mouth to my breasts, capturing first one and then the other nipple, teasing them mercilessly, sucking, nipping, flicking them with their tongue.

“Have I mentioned lately how much I like you not wearing underwear when you’re at home?”

“I think you mentioned something about it once or twice this morning.”

“Good, that saves me telling you again. Now go clean up. Just the basic stuff. And while you’re at it, think of my tongue on your clit as my fingers slide deep in you, bringing you to the brink, then stopping, letting you calm down before starting again.” As you speak, your hand begins, fingers flicking across my clit before sliding inside to press against my g-spot. Your other hand teased my nipples, pinching, twising, pulling. My breathing was deep, and I pressed against your hand, legs spread slightly.

With a deep kiss, you withdraw your hand, stepping back partially, and then delivering a smack to my now hot and wet cunt. I gasp in shock.

“That’s one. Remember that.” With a final kiss, you push me back towards the mess in the living room. “Hurry, slave. If you’re a good girl and get it done, we’ll go play with some toys in the bedroom. If it’s not completed by the time I get back, I’ll punish you wherever you are.”

I hurried back to the living room, my earlier fatigue forgotten, my cunt still tingling. I began where we had stopped, gathering and dumping the remains of the party. I heard the shower run and then stop. Knowing that I didn’t have much time left, I took the bags out the back, and then returned to the living room to survey my quick work. I couldn’t see anything left behind.

I was straightening cushions when you walked up behind me, pushing me down to kneel on the couch.

“Well done, love.” Your hands caress my hips and ass, pulling me back against your cock. “Did you get it all?” You lean forward and trail your tongue along my back, sending a shiver along my spine.

“I’m pretty sure I have.”

“Let’s just see.” With your hand on my shoulder, you pull me up to lean against you. Your other hand slides in between my thighs to play in my still wet cunt as you look around the room. I close my eyes and sigh, leaning my head back against your shoulder as your talented fingers once again find my clit.

Suddenly, your caresses stop and you slap my thigh. “Tut tut. You didn’t finish in time.” I looked to where you pointed and see a single cup sitting on a shelf, apparent now that I
know it was there, but easily overlooked on a casual glance.

Nipping my earlobe, you whisper “That was two.” After sliding my shirt off, you push me away from you, tellin
g me to kneel properly on the couch, with my hands on the back, legs apart, and I move to comply.

“What did I say would happen if you hadn’t finished?”

“You said I’d be punished wherever I was.”

“Good girl. And that is here and now.” Quickly, two smacks landed on my ass, then again. Another two smacks, this time one of the back of each thigh. “How many was that, slave?”

“Six, just now, eight in total.” You are running your hands over my body, gently caressing where your hand had hit moments before. You guide me back to the very edge of the couch, indicating that I should kneel on the floor. I feel you move to kneel behind me, your cock teasing my cunt, rubbing against the stinging flesh on my ass and thighs.

“Well done. Do you remember what I told you to think about?” I nod. “Good. This is your punishment for not finishing. I won’t be doing that to you. Tonight, you don’t get to feel my tongue on your clit, or my fingers inside you again.” Your hands run along my back and I arch towards them. Your words arouse me, but I also felt shame at not completing my task, and disappointment that the thoughts in my mind weren’t to be fulfilled. But those feelings soon fled as your cock rubbed against my clit.

“But since you have done a good job here, and there was only one thing that I’ve seen left over, I will reward you.” I can feel your cock at the entrance, teasing, sliding in slightly, just enough to make me want more. Your hands are at my hips, holding me still.

“I’m going to start to fuck you slowly, making you feel every movement until you beg me to let you come.” You push into me, filling me completely, before withdrawing, and doing it again. “Does that seem fair?”

“Yes, Master.” My breathing was deep, shaky. With each movement I tightened around you. Over and over, you slid your cock deep inside, only to slowly withdraw. You move one hand around to tease my clit, the other playing with my ass. My orgasm was growing and my body began to shake.

“Please, Master. Let me come.” I gasped the words. I couldn’t stand it, the feeling was intense.

Without a word, you withdrew, moving back from me. Again you slap my ass twice, before pulling me to the floor. Rolling on top of me, you said “That’s ten. Your punishment for the icing.”

Kissing me deeply, your hands at my breasts, you once again filled me. My legs wrap around you as you take me fast, your own need dictating the tempo. “Come for me, slave. Come with me.”

My hips move to your rhythm, my whole body shaking. I can feel you tensing, your own release approaching as I crash over the edge. I call your name as my orgasm spasm through me, fingers clawing your back. I hear you call my name as you come through the fast beating of my heart, before collapsing on top of me. Our breathing is ragged, our bodies sheened with sweat. Eventually we calm, and lay together on the living room floor, spent and happily exhausted.

“I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“Huh?” The day was catching up to me, and I lay dozing in your arms.

“The buttons on your shirt.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” I lift my head to kiss your lips briefly before once again curling up beside you. “It was yours.”