Coming Home

Eva Monroe
5 mins read
Published about 2 years ago
Chapter 2

Coming Home (Part 2)

A whimper escaped my lips, both from the sting of my spanking and being left in such a state of undress. It felt both humbling and thrilling all at once, which of course you knew it would, and the wetness between my legs had gone from inducing lightly wrecked panties to a thong that was downright soaked. 

I made my way into the kitchen, moving carefully so as to keep my panties where you wanted them. 

A nosh plate would be the perfect dinner, because neither of us felt like eating heavy meals in such oppressive heat. It always filled me with a sense of pride to know that my decisions and instincts would be pleasing to you, and especially so when I was making up for some naughty behavior.

When you emerged from the bedroom in your comfy clothes, I was once again startled by how goddamn sexy you managed to look in loungewear. It was impossible for you to look frumpy or plain, firstly because of your obnoxiously good looks, and secondly because of your always conscientious and intentional sense of style. It took all my self-control not to climb over the counter and jump on you, so I turned back to preparing the nosh plate.

“Mmm… mhmm,” I heard you say, and I glanced over my shoulder to see you holding up your phone. At the click of your camera, I blushed, but didn’t look away. If you wanted to document this moment, even though it made me extremely bashful, I was more than happy to let you.

“See, this is where I win,” you said, and pocketed your phone as you retrieved your glass from the coffee table. When you set it on the counter, I instinctively refreshed your drink. You thanked me and took a sip. I smiled at you and took the bait.

“Oh? How exactly do you win?” I asked, with a healthy dose of coy flirtation.

Leaning on the counter, you sipped your drink and stared brazenly at my mostly naked body, looking me up and down.

“While everyone in our neighborhood who saw you in that slutty little outfit is now left to fantasize about what you look like underneath it, I get to strip you naked whenever I want. So I win.” With a wicked grin, you took your drink and returned to the couch.

As a shiver ran through my body and goosebumps prickled my skin, and I couldn’t suppress the whimper-sigh-moan that your words elicited. Then I finished preparing the nosh tray, picked it up, and followed you into the living room.

You sipped your whiskey and ogled me as I set the tray down on the coffee table, remembering to bend at the waist like a good girl, for you.

“Thank you, this looks delicious,” you said. It never ceased to amaze me how you could be so commanding and so considerate all at once. It was one of my favorite things about you.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, but before I could sit down next to you, your hands took hold of my hips and you studied my half-removed panties.

“Hmm… I’d really like to take these off of you,” you mused, “but I suspect…” slipping one of your hands between my legs, you discovered the generous wetness there, making me moan outright.

“Oh, my…” you went on. “Someone certainly is enjoying her lesson. I’m not sure you’re supposed to enjoy being punished so much, babe,” you teased.

After only a few tantalizing strokes, you took your hand away.

“I can’t help it,” I confessed, my body aflame from your brief but profoundly effective touch.

“I know,” you agreed. “But you’ll have to keep those panties where they are, my dirty girl. You wouldn’t want to make a mess all over the couch now, would you?”

“No,” I shook my head as I sat down and you glanced at me with a raised eyebrow. I quickly corrected myself. “No, boss. I wouldn’t.”

With a sigh, you looked around for a napkin to wipe off your hand.

“Speaking of messes… No napkins?” You asked.

“I’ll get them,” I offered. But before letting me get the napkins, you gave me another job.

“Since you forgot them, you can take care of this. Open up.” I did as I was told, and you stuck two of your fingers in my mouth, letting me lick and suck them until I’d cleaned up the mess I’d made.

Satisfied, you removed your fingers and sent me off on my next task.

While I fetched the napkins, I also poured myself a glass of wine. When I brought everything back to the living room, you smiled up at me.

“I changed my mind. I really want you pantyless, so grab a bath towel, please.”

I set down my wine and complied with your request at once. Bringing one of our fluffy white towels back to the couch, I set it on the cushion next to you.

“Now take off those dirty girl panties,” you instructed.

“Yes, boss.”

Obeying immediately, I turned my back to you the way you liked, so you could watch me bend over as I slid the panties down to my ankles. I’d just had a brazilian wax done a few days earlier, so I knew you would enjoy a bit of a show.

“Jesus christ,” you let out a low whistle. “You are so wet, that naughty little pussy of yours is glistening. I’m going to need you to grab your ankles and stay like that for just a minute… because I am really loving this view…”

Taking hold of my ankles like you directed, I steadied myself as best I could. At this angle, my ass and pussy were spread wide open, laid out for your viewing pleasure. After mere moments, you weren’t just looking anymore. 

Your hands caressed my legs, from my grasped ankles and slowly… slowly… up the length of my calves and thighs, over my bottom and back down again. You didn’t go anywhere near the untidiness between my legs, and soon I felt my wetness start to drip down my inner thighs. You must have seen it, too, because you made one of your best sounds of appreciation, somewhere between a murmur and a chuckle. 

“Okay, you can sit down now,” you offered, and I stood up slowly, stepping out of my panties.

I took my spot on the dirty girl towel, tucking my legs up under me while being careful not to sit directly on my feet. I was (beyond) overstimulated enough already.

Wrapping one arm around me, you dug into the nosh with the other, then glanced at my naked tits, still propped up by my tank top.

“Oops, can’t have that,” you said.

“What?” I asked, and looking down I noticed that my nipples had relaxed in the heat. Sure enough, you took my cold glass of white wine from me, and rubbed against each of my nipples in turn, until they were standing at attention for you.

“That’s better,” you said. And before you turned the TV show back on, you gave me a stern look.

“I want you to keep an eye on that, too, my dirty girl,” you said. “If your nipples aren’t hard and I don’t catch it, I want you to make them hard again, for me. Is that clear?” 

Wide-eyed and serious, I nodded.

“Yes, boss. Crystal clear.” I promised.

“Good girl.” You squeezed my ass as I settled in against you, making sure to keep my torso at a slight angle to leave my breasts laid bare and my perky nipples within your view, should you want to enjoy them.

As utterly desperate as I was to come, a sense of peace and calm also came over me. Nestled in your arms, wearing nothing but a clump of fabric around my waist, I felt safe and secure and cared for. Strutting out to get the mail in my tiny outfit hadn’t been the best idea, but I felt so happy, having the opportunity to make it up to you. To prove to you that I belonged to you in every way, and that I would never, ever share myself with anyone else in the ways I shared myself with you.

About halfway through the episode, I shifted a little and saw that my nipples were soft again. When I glanced up at you, I saw that you hadn’t noticed. You were leaning back against the cushions in full relaxation mode and I didn’t want to disturb you, so I simply did as you’d instructed. 

One at a time, I pinched and tweaked my nipples. I of course let out little moans of pleasure at the sensation, and when you looked down and saw what I was doing, you smirked a little and watched me, as I fondled and played with my nipples until they were perky and hard again for you.

“Such a very, very good girl,” you said, and pulled me closer to you. For the rest of the show you held me like that, cradled in your nook, feeling sexy and safe and unbelievably turned on. 

By the time our show was finished and we’d eaten all our nosh, I wanted to do something for you without being told, so I looked up at you with a hopeful expression.

“Would you like me to rub your shoulders-?” I asked, right as your words overlapped mine.

“I really need shower, babe,” you said.

“Oh!” I replied, and thought for a moment. “If you want, I could rub your shoulders for you in the shower? And maybe soap you up… wash you off… make you nice and clean the way you like?”

You grinned and kissed my forehead.

“I accept your very generous offer.” And with that, you stood up, took me by the hand, and led me to our shower room.