The Knight and the Acolyte Book 8 Chapter 9 The Knight s Passion
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Every Night Means Every Night. free porn video
This story is follows on from “Every Night?”
After the excitement and fear and intensity of the first few days, coming home each night wondering whether Liam might have lost interest in this game yet, or if we were at least going to take a break for a few days, the annoyance, the humiliation, even just the damn pain, began to take a toll on my enthusiasm for this new game. Clearly, we were both excited by this side of our sex life, but equally clearly, this was a few steps up the ladder of intensity. Just how long could we keep up this ill thought through idea of his spanking me “every” night?
I found myself brooding on the fact that it wasn’t even an idea that we had discussed or at which we had arrived together. He had just announced one night, in bed, that that was how it would be and there had been no further discussion. I concede that neither at the time nor, to be honest, at any time since, did I challenge it or argue with him about his new regime. In fact, I now realise that I had just gone along with this plan without so much as seeking clarification of just how absolute would be the “every” or how long an experiment he had in mind. A week? Two? We were now more than a month in. My bottom had been spanked every night and I had no clear idea where this out of control game was going. Perhaps the biggest concern was that it was simply out of MY control. It seemed that Liam was the one in full control. Did I really agree to that?
In the first few weeks, Liam was absolute in his insistence that I could not begin to go to bed until after my spanking. I could not even change into any sort of night clothes. Otherwise, he sent me back to get fully dressed again. And would then make me wait, sometimes for hours, before he would announce, in a matter of fact manner, that it was time for my spanking. Some nights, I would stand there in the bedroom, waiting for him to finish in the bathroom, unable to take off even my shoes or sweater until I knew how he wanted me. Only for him to wander in wearing boxers and tee for bed and mutter that he wanted me in nothing but my bra, please.
Within a couple of weeks, I found myself treating it almost as normality. When I wanted to go to bed I would stand up and ask Liam if he could give me my spanking now before the next TV program started that I knew he might want to watch. It was almost like asking if he’d please put the bin out.
But the truth is that it wasn’t the bland normality of putting out the bin and even after many months, let alone a couple of weeks, asking always carries with it that deep down shock of fear and excitement. Because however many days went by, Liam never allowed the spanking itself to become humdrum. I never had any idea what his preference was going to be until he told me. I could see little correlation to his mood and despite asking him early in the evening what he was going to want, or indeed whether he planned it days or hours in advance or just right at the last moment, he would never discuss what he told me to do or why his preferences wandered so widely night by night.
Some evenings, Liam would have me bend over his knee like a child, or stand and grasp my ankles for maybe ten minutes straight. Sometimes, I was made to lie across the bed or he might take me to the living room to bend over a chair or to crawl on the floor. Occasionally, I was taken to the kitchen where there are no curtains or blinds (although it really only looks onto our small walled garden). Generally, I ended up with a bare bottom but sometimes we built from a spanking over my clothes and then with me holding up my dress or skirt and still with tights and panties covering my bottom. Other times, he would have me undress while he would watch or occasionally he would dress me in something different altogether.
Liam would spank me with a wooden spoon (very sore), his hand, a slipper, a leather flogger, a belt, or a cane. Sometimes, a selection. We even went to a posh country sports shop and bought a riding crop together, leaving little doubt in the shopkeeper’s mind what was going to be cropped. Or whose! Some nights, I went to bed with a stinging red bottom for ten minutes. Others I would stand in the corner with my hands on my head and tears running down my face from genuine pain. Sometimes, we’d “do my spanking” like it was a chore and then get into bed to read, other times, it would develop via rubbing and caress into lovemaking. Occasionally, a hard spanking over a chair could become fairly energetic anal sex or being hit with a riding crop whilst crawling on all fours led to oral sex. But whatever else Liam might be, uninventive he is not. When I asked for my spanking each evening I really had no idea if it would be five or fifty minutes or range from a stinging embarrassment or a degradingly painful experience.
For all the variety, one thing remained absolutely constant as the weeks became months. Every meant “EVERY”. We could have been out partying and come home exhausted, quite drunk and barely able to summon the energy to go to the bedroom and undress. Nevertheless, there was always one responsibility we had to take care of and which could never, ever, be postponed. Nor, for that matter, was Liam inclined to make a concession to the circumstances. I remember more than one occasion where he clearly thought sympathy was due to him as he was so tired and in need of a bed and yet having to deal with this responsibility. Then he would fulfill the obligation by canning my bare bottom four or six times before acting as relieved as I felt, that it was over and playfully racing to undress and collapse in bed so I’d be the last one to turn out the light.
Perhaps the oddest, scariest and in some twisted respect the most exciting nights were when we weren’t getting along. The first time it arose we had had quite a serious argument earlier in the day over family stuff. He didn’t want to visit my mother and, truth be told, neither did I. But as these things so often have a way of doing, the argument escalated into his dislike for my sisters and their husbands, the fact I sometimes gave them money, the comparison with his family and some quite deep-rooted issues over making allowances or concessions for someone you love. It got heated and became one of those that rolled all day, the smallest communication becoming laden with meaning and the argument flaring up like half-burned embers with the smallest encouragement. It was sufficiently serious that I had genuinely forgotten the spanking ritual until mid-evening. I’d washed the dishes and then sat in the bedroom making calls and surfing various sites and social media. Until I found myself thinking I’d go and get my spanking and go to bed. I even caught myself hoping he wouldn’t be a bastard about making me wait.
Then I caught myself on. What was I THINKING? This was just a fun sex game and tonight is NOT the night. This is crazy that I’m even considering it. I decided just to get in bed without a word. On the other hand... it was many weeks since I’d gone to bed without a spanking. And we did need to do something to get past this fight and not make it worse going to bed angry. I must have spent half an hour pondering and working out a strategy. I decided that I would walk in, kiss him, offer him a coffee, say that I was sorry for the shitty day we’d both had. Then with a giggle at the very idea of it, I would agree that we’d skip the spanking tonight. I was proud of myself. This was a good plan.
Should I put on pyjamas first? No, I’d stay in the skirt and blouse I’d worn all afternoon. No point in risking provoking him by breaking the rules before I get to say my piece. I wouldn’t re-empt what I was intending to lead up to so carefully. No, I’d stay fully dressed as usual. This was a winning plan. Defuse the argument and in so doing break this cycle into which we’d both become locked.
I walked into the living room brightly, kissed him on the forehead and my plan appeared to go pretty well as I’d prepared it. He was reacting positively, if saying little, and took my hand affectionately when I said that we’d both had a shitty day for which I was sorry. In my head, he’d leapt in there to say that it was he who should be sorry. Instead, he was just looking at me, silently, but his look did seem to be affectionate. Expecting a man to say he was wrong was probably unrealistic.
I said that I thought we both deserved to open a new packet of chocolate biscuits with our coffee and, as a carefully rehearsed throwaway afterthought, just as walked to the kitchen, I said, “I think we'll give my spanking a miss tonight,” and let out my carefully practised giggle which denoted that the very idea was, of course, silly.
“I don’t think so.”
he said. And then added in a level and friendly, if slightly condescending tone,
“I don’t think that there is any reason at all for you to be let you off your spanking today. I think that you have lessons to learn, perhaps today more than most.”
He spoke like he was explaining to a child that we would be having to go on a journey despite that they found the idea boring.
“Now come. Stand here in front of me.
NOW!
Please don’t play up. Not this evening after you had calmed down nicely.
Come on. That’s a good girl. Now I want you to take off your skirt and blouse.
No! Just where you are standing, please. That’s right. And your blouse. Pick them up, please.”
And just like that, I found myself standing on the mat in the living room in my red lace Boux Avenue bra and panties, handing Liam my skirt and blouse. This was not how I had planned it and it had all gone so wrong in the space of one minute. Moreover, I was about to have to bend over and be spanked by the man with whom I’d been arguing all day and who had just said that perhaps today more than most days, I would have lessons to learn.
I stood straight, self-conscious in my underwear despite the fact that this was an everyday occurrence. Self-conscious more because of my helpless position of submission, awaiting his whim. Despite that, that too was an everyday occurrence recently. But somehow, this evening it felt rather more genuine and less that we were role-playing. The fight and anger throughout the day had all been genuine. The annoyance with one another real. And now, I was standing here in my underwear, waiting for him to tell me how I was to have my bottom spanked. Not whether. That question was already dealt with. The only question left was the manner and extent to which he would punish me. And tonight it seemed like my punishment would be more genuine too.
I could feel my face hot and red. Knew he would see this. My humiliation and my helpless frustration. I guess that the emotion of the day still hadn’t dissipated. My feelings had only percolated whilst I was sitting alone in the bedroom all evening, brooding and sulking. I was furious. Perhaps less with Liam than with myself. For finishing up here, like this, and not having the strength to end this lunacy.
I realised that at least another minute had passed in silence as I stood here, on display, He was enjoying it! I looked at him and saw his smile at my helplessness and humiliation and somehow I seemed to burst.
”You Bastard, you are loving this, aren’t you? Loving seeing my humiliation standing here.”
I balled my fists in frustration. Liam peered at me with amused fascination, like some entertainingly awkward animal on display.
“Of course. I always enjoy looking at you, but especially when you are submitting to me. I look forward to our evenings when we have our little session. Reminding you of your place. Tonight, I think we might have quite an important lesson. Don’t you?”
I stared at him. I was furious. With him, with myself and with everything in the universe. What in hell did he mean by my “place”? Or for that matter “submitting” and what the FUCK was this “lesson” he thought he’d teach me, like some child. I could feel my face redden as I squirmed with fury and frustration. I quite literally could not find any words to speak. And so, as he spoke to me in that condescending, lecturing style of teaching me a lesson, that he was sure that I knew deep down that this was what I needed and that he felt it important that he takes seriously the punishment and lesson that he knew I needed, I just stood there, silently, in front of him in my red lace underwear, red-faced, red-eyed and looking at the floor.
Like the perfect little obedient submissive.
“Come over here, babe.”
He was almost conversational now.
“Bend over my knee. Come on, don’t be silly, ...
Get
Over
My
Knee
NOW!”
And without really seeing any realistic alternative, I did as I was told. Awkwardly and somewhat gracelessly, I bent across the knee of the man with whom I was effectively still in an argument and shuffled until my panty clad bottom was ideally placed to be spanked.
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- 03.08.2022
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