Tiptoes and Tears

Continued from: Oily Hufone Heit

A Sarah Jane story

The new dark room was a den of sin, a place where the most depraved fantasies could be indulged without shame or restraint...or so I thought. I ended up getting a very real spanking from 'Sir'. Let me tell you how things led to that point. 

As Daddy ushered us inside the new space, I could feel my cunt growing wet with anticipation, my body already primed for the filthy acts that were sure to follow. He wasted no time in securing me in place, forcing me down onto my knees and elbows with my ass obscenely thrust into the air. 

The cold leather cuffs bit into my wrists and ankles, holding me immobile as he shoved a thick rubber gag into my mouth, silencing any protests I might have made. Behind me, Mandy let out a muffled whimper as Daddy trussed her up in a brutal strappado position, her arms stretched taut behind her. The position forced her to lean forward, her face hovering mere inches from my exposed pussy and asshole. 

As Mandy struggled against her bonds, seeking some small measure of comfort, her nose would graze my puckered hole, sending jolts of electric pleasure shooting through my body. I could only imagine the view from her perspective, my ass cheeks spread wide to reveal my fig-shaped, little puckered penny, slightly agape from the dildo stool in the previous room. The knowledge that she was being forced to confront such an intimate, dirty part of my anatomy sent a fresh rush of moisture to my cunt, even as I fought against the instinct to clench my muscles and hide myself from her gaze. 

As the minutes dragged on, Mandy's struggles grew more frantic, her body swaying back and forth in a desperate bid for relief. With each movement, her nose pressed harder against my bum hole, the sensation both thrilling and mortifying in equal measure. 

My own arousal was building, my clit throbbing with each ragged breath I took around the gag, I wanted to beg for release, to plead with Daddy to use me, to fill me with his cock until I screamed. But the gag held firm, reducing my pleas to a nothing more that muffled grunts and whimpers. I was nothing more than a toy, a plaything for Daddy to use as he saw fit. And god help me, I loved every minute of it. 

Our ordeal was far from over. Once Daddy had grown bored of watching Mandy's nose buried in my asshole, he untied us and dragged us to our feet. Our legs were shaking from the strain of our previous positions, but he showed no mercy as he forced us up onto our tiptoes like ballerinas. 

With swift, efficient movement, he secured our wrists, leaving us utterly helpless and at his mercy. But the true cruelty of his plan became apparent only when he knelt at our feet, attaching a small pad covered in wicked-looking spikes to the soles of our bare heels. 

A shiver of fear ran down my spine as I realized the implications of this new torment. If we allowed our tired calves to relax, even for a second, we would be forced to lower ourselves onto those sharp points. 

But if we tried to maintain our balance on our toes, our legs would quickly grow fatigued, the burn in our muscles becoming unbearable. 

It was a diabolical catch-22, a predicament designed to push us to the very limits of our endurance. As the seconds turned into minutes, I could feel my body beginning to shake with the effort of maintaining my position. 

Beside me, Mandy was faring no better, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she fought to stay on her tippy toes. Daddy circled us like a vulture, his camera trained on our contorted faces and trembling limbs, filming a little video for his future viewing pleasure. 

I clenched my core tightly, trying desperately to maintain my balance and avoid the cruel spikes beneath my heels. Suddenly, without waring, a loud fart ripped from my ass, echoing through the room like a gunshot. My eyes widened in horror, realizing too late that sitting on that dildo earlier must have pushed air deep into my bowels. The sound was unmistakable, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze. 

Mandy stared at me in shock, while Daddy slowly lowered his camera, his face a mask of disappointment as he removed my ball gag. 

Before I could even begin to stammer out an apology, he was on me, dragging me roughly across the room to a bench and throwing me over his knee. I struggled against his grip, but it was useless - he was far too strong. His hand came down hard on my bare ass cheeks, the crack of flesh against flesh ringing out in the suddenly silent room. 

Through the haze of my humiliation, I could hear Mandy's shocked gasps, her horror only serving to amplify my own sense of disgrace. I had ruined Daddy's video by farting, and now I was paying the price, wracked with agony and embarrassment as Daddy's hand rose and fell, painting my bare bottom a deep angry red. 

As Daddy's spanking continued on my tender flesh, I found myself clenching my muscles, bracing against the impact. The pressure of his thighs on my tummy, combined with the tension in my core, proved too much for my already compromised bum hole. To my utter mortification, another fart escaped my body, this one even louder and longer than the last. 

Daddy froze mid-spank, his hand hovering above my quivering cheeks. For a moment, I dared to hope that he might show me some mercy, that he might understand the involuntary nature of my fart. But that hope was quickly dashed as he shoved me roughly off his lap, sending me tumbling to the floor in a tangle of limbs, attempting to shield my butt. 

I looked up at him, my vision blurred with tears, and watched in growing terror as he slowly unbuckled his belt, sliding it free from the loops of his pants with a soft whisper of leather against fabric. "You filthy pig," he snarled, doubling the belt over in his fist. "I'm going to teach you some manners." 

I scrambled backwards, trying desperately to put some distance between us, but there was nowhere to run. The first lash of the belt caught me across the backs of my thighs, a line of pure fire that stole the breath from my lungs. 

Through my pleas of "I'm sorry, Sir!" I could see Mandy, still balancing precariously on her toes, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and perverse arousal. I wanted to beg for her help, to plead with her to intervene, but the words died in my throat. All I could do was endure, my world narrowing down to the relentless rise and fall of the belt.

And I didn't even use my safeword! Hehe

Sarah Jane 💟

Continued in: Brutal Tenderness