A Taste by Joonie Gee
WARNING: BDSM Erotica You've been warned. I make certain my short, thin nightie is sufficiently soaked in the soapy bucket water. It's important that the cotton garment cling to my flesh and expose my long erect nipples. He's an ass man. So, I plan it just so that as He enters the kitchen He finds me bent over on my arms and knees, back low-ass high with a bunch of my drenched nightie strategically slipped down the crack of my ample-pantie-less ass. I purposefully go through the movement of "scrubbing" the kitchen floor so as to ensure that my plump booty jiggles and sways in motion. I am intentionally late completing the task of cleaning the kitchen. I can be a bit of a brat at times. But, that's not it this time. This time, I could sense from our brief phone discussion that His day has been a challenge. I have a loving, nurturing, and caring Sir who would not strike me in frustration. Because I appreciate Him so much, I give Him a reason. At once, I feed his need to vent and my desire for punishment. I have my music playing loudly. This, too, part of the plan; so that I'm genuinely surprised by which ever way He'll approach the scene. A few times I think I sense his presence only to turn around and find that I'm still alone. Anticipation gives me butterflies. I can feel Him. He is here; but He is not showing Himself. My heart is racing. I start to imagine the ways I'd like Him to take me. Perhaps He'll come in swinging His Compeer. Perhaps He'll waste no time. He'll jump right in and whip me. He'll bark obscenities at me in the quiet-but strong way that He does. He'll call me lazy! useless! cumwhore! Perhaps He'll force me into a corner so that He has to grab my legs and then He'll hold them down by my ankles with one of his large hands while punching them with the other. Then He'll pull my legs out more so that I'm flat on my back and He'll force them apart with his knees finding my pussy ready to receive His thick dick. I get wet at the visual of this scene in my mind. I lose myself until I'm abruptly brought back by the yanking of my long locs. He pulls me backward but I'm unprepared so I fall back over my own knees in an awkward position. He wraps His hand in my locs and yanks me up. This time my legs fly out in front of me kicking over the bucket of water. He plops me down hard in the water on the bucket on the tile floor. He says nothing. No yelling. No name calling. Nothing. I'm cringing on the floor-on my back-in pain. He walks over and stands above my head. I'm looking up from between His legs. I can see, as He reaches down and grabs for my locs again, that He has rolled up His shirt sleeves. Gripping my hair, he drags me the few feet stretch from the kitchen into the bathroom. The shower is already running. He had been in there before I had known He was home. He is not careful about getting me into the tub. His Compeerappears out of nowhere and the flogging begins. There seems to be as many lashes as there are droplets of shower water. I'm not sure if my plan is working. I mean, I ambeing beaten. He is venting-physically at least. But, I can't tell what this is. Does He realize the gift I've given Him...a reason? Is this for pleasure? Or is He truly disappointed in me for being disobedient? It matters. It doesn't last long. But it doesn't go any further. When the beating stops. He orders me to clean the kitchen. He says nothing more to me until I serve Him dinner. He kisses me. He thanks me. I'm perplexed.