He had ramped up slowly, letting her arousal and endorphins do the work, moving her brain into a space where this felt so amazing, teasing her about how her cunt is such a wet, vulnerable target, about how her clit is straining into it, wanting him to keep going, letting the intensity of it further melt through her. He talked about how one day he might do her ass and breasts, too, which would pull her inner slut out to play even more, but right now, this is just a tease. Only her pussy would get the relentless spanking it needs today. Not her ass, not her thighs, not her nipples, just her greedy, slutty, pussy, selfishly taking it all and wanting it to never stop. Each spank traveling all through her, guiding her into the next one.
Tomorrow, every time she stands, sits, or walks, she’ll be reminded of this moment, and his words will ring through her head: “You’re my good slut, with a pussy made for spanking. I’m going to make you crave this.”
And each time it crosses her mind, she’ll feel it become more true.
